I honestly have no idea what I've just created… I can't even give the excuse of early morning weirdness because it's barely 8:30.

Disclaimer: I don't own Once Upon A Time.

Regina wished that she had brought a paper bag with her. Three first aid kits, five blankets, two suitcases designated for her and Emma, a plastic bag full of granola bars, and two boxes of tissues, but no paper bags. Emma had helped by bringing her collection of classic 80's music cassette tapes. They were driving to find the writer for the book; seemingly an impossible task, but first they were going to find Rumplestiltskin, and, as Emma had put it, "probably beat a confession out of him".

Regina had reluctantly agreed to let Emma drive her yellow beetle, thinking that it would be nice not having to drive for hours on end without any rest.

That had been before she knew how reckless of a driver Emma was. Hence the paper bag.

Emma was one of those stop-signs-are-only-optional, no-one's-around-so-I'll-drive-60-in-a-45, who-needs-to-look-both-ways-when-you-have-faith kind of drivers. It was a surprise Emma had lived this long. Regina hoped she would be able to live just a little longer.

"Do we have to listen to Billy Joel?" Regina complained. "We've been listening to him for four hours. Why do you even have a cassette tape with just Billy Joel on it, anyway? Out of all the artists out there..."

Emma had been humming along to the tune as they cruised down the highway, but she looked at Regina with a glint in her eye. "Could you say…"

"Finish that sentence and I will kill you."

"... that we've been listening to him for the longest time?"

Regina would've smacked Emma on the arm, but her driving skills were already terrible enough without a distraction. She went with a, "You suck," instead.

"Wow," Emma laughed. "I can't believe I heard that coming from you. Am I rubbing off on you?"

"More like you're rubbing off on Henry," mumbled Regina, "who's rubbing off on me."`

"Okay," Emma reassured sarcastically. She continued to hum.

Regina happened to glance at the speedometer. "You're going 75."

"And?"

"The speed limit is 60."

"And?"

"That's against the law, Emma."

"And?"

"Do you have no morals at all?" Regina snapped. "I can barely breathe correctly!"

"Maybe it's my good looks and charming personality that takes your breath away," smirked Emma, her eyebrows raised mischievously.

"Maybe it's your bad driving. You're going to get us arrested."

"I'm a sheriff," Emma said, shaking her shoulders. "I do what I want."

"You can't do what you desire just becau-"

"Shhh….," Emma whispered, putting on of her fingers on Regina's lips to effectively silence her.

It worked, and Regina's cheeks turned as red as her lips.

"You're still at 75," Regina murmured several minutes later, pouting.

"It's called maintaining speed, Regina," scoffed Emma. "It's because I'm a good driver."

"Yeah, you're a good driver. You also don't sneak sugary breakfast cereals to Henry when he's staying with you."

"Hey, what's wrong with Lucky Charms?" Emma asked.

"He's just going to pick out the marshmallows!"

"That's how you're supposed to eat 'em."

"I should've guessed," Regina said. "Of course you'd to it, also."

"It's delicious!"

"It's literally sugar and milk."

Emma turned to Regina and grinned. "Yum."

Regina groaned, and looked around the car, wanting to find something to do. She reached back to one of the multiple blankets in the back and laid it across her legs. She then pressed the 'stop' button on the cassette player installed into the car.

"Hey!" protested Emma. "'Piano Man' is a true classic."

"It is not," Regina argued, turning on the radio and turning it up.

Got a long list of ex-lovers,

They'll tell you I'm insane…

Emma happened to glance at Regina's lips, and looked at them closely (Not for that, though…! Obviously! Okay, maybe a little, but it's always been like that.). "Are you…" Emma tried not to break down into laughter. "Are you mouthing along? You know this song? T-Swift?"

"Well," reasoned Regina. "It plays on the radio quite frequently… I memorized the words…"

"As you blasted it in your room and sang into a hairbrush?" Emma playfully questioned.

"I did no such thing!" Regina's cheeks were red again, and she crossed her arms.

"Whatever makes you sleep at night," Emma joked.

Their conversations were interrupted by the 'wop-wop!' of a police siren. The red and blue lights flashed in Emma's rearview mirror.

"Oh shit," Emma cursed, while Regina said at the same time, "Emma you complete imbecile, look what you've done."

"You're my pregnant girlfriend and we're rushing to the hospital, okay? I know relatively where we are. We're like, ten minutes away from one."

"What?" screeched Regina. "Why do I have to be pregnant?"

"Because I'm the one driving!" Emma shouted. She was slowing down (for once), and started to pull over on the side of the highway. "Do you want a ticket or not? Take my sweatshirt from the back and make a belly! Quick!"

"But I-"

"Do you have a better idea?" Emma looked at Regina pointedly, and Regina sighed. She couldn't believe she was doing this. Reaching back and grabbing Emma's sweatshirt, not paying any attention to what it looked like, she quickly stuffed it up her shirt and rounded out her new and pretend belly. It made contact with her skin and she shivered. At least it was soft.

"Go into heavy breathing labor sounds if things get bad," Emma hissed, and before Regina could bite back with a retort, a police officer tapped his finger on the window of Emma's car door, and Regina shut her mouth. The police officer seemed like one that would come out of a cheesy 90's movie: thick and bushy mustache, balding head, aviators, and she wouldn't be surprised if there were donut crumbs on his uniform.

Emma held up a finger to mean 'one second' and started cranking her window down. The officer silently stood there until Emma was done rolling down the window. Regina looked out of the windshield, trying to not get more into the awkward moment than she already was.

"Yes, sir?" Emma asked, a nervous tone to her voice.

"Miss…" the man started. "I'm going to need your license."

Emma started rummaging in the console of her car and grab her wallet. She looked at him innocently. "Okay, sir, but… What did I do?"

Emma was pretty sure she saw his eyes narrow, even through the sunglasses. "You were going more than twenty over the speed limit."

"Sir, my wife is in labor and I was trying to drive to the hospital. I probably wasn't thinking. Sorry."

Regina tried to look at the cop convincingly enough and nodded.

Emma glanced at Regina. "She's, like, incredibly pregnant."

Regina nodded again.

"As in, she's really out of breath, sir, and we don't have much time left." Oh. Regina, who took the signal, tried to seem winded, breathing long and deep breaths. She put protective arms around her stomach and tried to make it look like she was clutching it tightly without crushing the clothes underneath. Is that how a pregnant woman in labor was supposed to sound? She didn't want to make it too dramatic and make the cop suspicious. But what if she didn't sound dramatic enough and the cop got suspicious from that?

Why was she contemplating how to sound pregnant?

"She doesn't look pregnant," the cop mumbled, "she just looks fat."

That caught Regina's attention. She whipped her head up and looked in the police officer's direction, spitting out an, "Excuse me?!"

"Please, sir, don't make her mad, she might give birth even earlier!" Emma said, sounding panicked. "I can't have my wife giving birth in a car! Our child deserves more!"

"I'm going to rip those five dollar sunglasses from your ugly face and shove them up your-"

"Sir, she's really emotional and hormonal at the moment," Emma said, petting Regina's shoulder. "Please don't stress her out even more!"

"I-I'm…." The cop stuttered and pushed up his sunglasses. "I'll just… leave you off with a warning. Drive more carefully, though."

Emma nodded vigorously. "Yes, sir, thank you. Have a good day, sir."

"... You too." And with that, the cop walked off. Emma quickly rolled her window back up, and started the car again.

The car ride was silent for the next five minutes.

Emma broke the silence by sighed loudly. "Thank god!" she said exasperatedly. "I didn't think that would work!"

"And you made me put your clothes under my shirt anyway?" Regina questioned, horrified. She took the sweatshirt our of her shirt and unfolded it, getting a good look at it.

"Emma," she asked. "Why does your sweatshirt say 'Fuck Bitches Get Money'? What kind of influence do you have on Henry?"

"Hey!" Emma grabbed her sweatshirt out of Regina's grasp and put it in her lap. "It wa a Christmas gift."

Regina narrowed her eyes.

"Okay," Emma amended, "so it was a Christmas present from myself. What? It looked funny."

Regina raised an eyebrow.

"I was also slightly inebriated and at Walmart. It was years ago. You honestly don't want to know."

"I cannot believe you," sighed Regina.

"You can not believe me all you want, but my plan worked." Emma tapped her fingers to the beat of whatever pop tune was playing on the radio, and she gave her blinker as she merged lanes.

"How did you even come up with such a ridiculous plan so quickly?" Regina asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Because I'm a quick thinker," answered Emma, in a 'duh' tone that reminded Regina of Henry when he was explaining the plot of his comic books. She smiled.

"I don't know if the word 'thinker' would be the correct word to use…" Regina teased.

"Hey! I'm super smart," protested Emma, and for emphasis, she took a hand off the wheel and pointed at her temple. "I've got the brains."

"Maybe. Maybe not."

"Well, you love me anyway!" Emma said. She looked at Regina and smiled, her eyes sparkling.

Regina looked at her, and hoped Emma didn't see the blush that Regina could feel coming up. Emma's grin became wider as Regina didn't answer her, taking it as a positive, until Regina snorted, turned her head to look out the window, and said, "In your dreams, Swan."

Emma just smiled harder.