Written for the CS movie month on tumblr. It's all in the title, right?

"And then the man thrusts his penis into the woman's vagina and…"

"Please, Henry, stop talking." Emma takes the mail out of the box, closing it with a bit too much strength that has the doorman turning his head – yeah, like having her son loudly talking about sex didn't catch his attention before. "I will literally pay you to stop talking."

Henry freezes for a second, mouth open with whatever he was going to say next, as if evaluating the situation. He closes it then, and Emma is ready to sigh in relief. That is, until he speaks again. "But what I don't understand, Grace said she was an accident. How can you accidentally thrust your penis into…"

"Okay, stop." Putting the mail in her handbag, Emma kneels to be on the same eye-level with her son – not a conversation she wanted to have now, especially not in their building hallway of all places. "It's not the sex that was an accident. It's Grace's mother getting pregnant."

Henry seems to be thinking this through for a minute, little pensive pout on his lips, until the emotions on his face suddenly shift and Emma is surprised to see sadness where there was blatant curiosity only seconds ago. "Am I an accident?"

Emma is suddenly really glad that she lies for a living, because there's no way she could have kept a poker face otherwise – yes, definitely not a conversation she was planning to have any time soon. "No. Come on, kid, of course not. You were very much wanted." The lie rolls almost too easily on her tongue, and she makes a mental note to send a text later in case Henry wants to ask his father the same question. "Now let's go home, okay?"

.

She really expects him to drop the subject there. He obviously doesn't, cornering her in the kitchen when she's cooking, with his puppy eyes and sad pout – too effective for her own good. "I think you should tell me the story of how you and dad met."

"Why are you interested in that all of a sudden?" She keeps staring at the vegetables frying in the pan, more to hide her feelings from Henry than to make sure nothing burns.

He's never been really vocal about it, but Emma knows this is something weighing on him – how his parents are not lovers, only maintaining a semblance of friendship for their kid's well being. New York is full of divorced parents and unusual families, but Henry has always been a romantic at heart, dreaming of his parents getting back together at one point or another.

In his little mind, telling him the story would probably be enough to have something click as she realises they were always meant to be.

"I just want to know. Is it so much to ask?" He trails on the last word of each sentence to draw pity, she knows, and it could work if she wasn't even more stubborn than he is. "Look, mum, I know your story with dad isn't some kind of fairytale but I really want to know."

"And you will."

"When I'm old enough."

She taps the tip of his nose with a smile. "Exactly. Now set the table."

.

He remains silent on the subject for a grand total of one hour, bringing it back with his toothbrush in his mouth while getting ready for bed.

"But like, you met when you were eighteen…"

"Not now, Henry." She can hear the frustration in her own voice, the edge that shouldn't be there – she isn't the kind of mother who snaps at her kid for no reason, thank you very much – and she feels guilty for it. But her early twenties have always been a sensitive subject for her, will always be, and it is not something she wishes to discuss with Henry. Not to mention the fact his father is better at telling stories than she is, so maybe asking him would be a better option than her cynical self.

"How many boyfriends did you have when you were young?"

"None." But she feels her willpower slipping between her fingers, slowly but surely, and she sighs in defeat. "Only three serious ones, including your father."

"All at once?"

"No." And then, "well…"

Henry's eyes widen, and she takes that moment of weakness to push him in his bedroom until he falls face first on his bed.

"Tell meeeeee." The whine is muffled by the blankets, and she snorts lightly.

She waits until he snuggles under the covers, tucks him in carefully, then sits on the edge of his bed, caressing the locks of dark hair on his forehead.

"I just want you to tell me how you fell in love with dad."

His eyes are full of hope and dreams, and she'd feel like the worst mommy in the world if she were to crush them now. She's perfectly aware of the dangerous game she's playing, walking on the edge, but Emma has never been one to say no to her son. So she sighs and throws her arms in the air in sign of defeat.

"Fine." Henry's already jumping back into a sitting position, excited as a kitten with a strand of wool. "But I'm not telling you who your father is, and I'm changing all the names. I decided that just now. You'll have to guess which one he is, okay?"

"Like a detective story, only it's love instead of murder?"

Her son and his comparisons… "Yeah, you could say that."

"Nice!"

Okay so for people who've seen the movie, we roughly have Neal as the mum (obvz), Graham as Summer and Killian as April, so the story will jump between the three but (once again, if you've seen the movie or basically looked at my other fics) you know which one will be endgame.
But the three of them will still be explored so you've been warned