'The law ain't never been a friend of mine

I would kill again to keep from doing time

You should never ever trust my kind

I'm a wanted man'

*SPENCER'S POV*

"Can you put your belt on?"

"I thought you'd be happy if I died? Didn't you try to kill me?" Blade cocked an eyebrow, a taunting smirk on his lips as if there was anything funny about someone trying to kill him. Well, there was surely, since he was still there to mock me, although it didn't mean I hadn't wished for his death.

"It's only for Dorothy. I don't think she would be happy if I came back without you."

"Ditto," he muttered under his breath while thankfully clicking his belt on.

Now, I could only hope he wouldn't drive too recklessly because I was already on edge, and Dorothy wasn't here to soothe my nerves.

Why had I even left her all alone? The pins and needles in my legs were already making me want to run back to her, but I knew it was the safest option because I didn't trust Blade to find ginger – and actually, I didn't trust him in general – while I trusted Dorothy completely.

Despite the knots of worry in my insides, I didn't doubt she was more than able to protect herself, especially with a gun in her hand. If she could hesitate to pull the trigger for herself, she would shoot a bullet straight to the heart of anyone trying to hurt an innocent life, and now, she had that innocent life inside her belly.

The prickling sensations climbed up to my chest upon that thought. Maybe it was myself that I didn't trust either. Of course, I was glad she had chosen to keep the baby, and I wouldn't have wanted it any other way. I'd always pictured having a family with her, mini us running around, and even if this baby wasn't mine, as long as he or she had Dorothy's freckles and bright curls, I knew I would love him or her.

But what if I wasn't good enough to protect Dorothy and the baby? I could learn how to change diapers, prepare baby bottles, and even find a job to provide for them, yet steal for them? Stay undercover?

The closest I'd ever done to this had been when we'd been playing cops and robbers with Dorothy, and she'd always been the one playing the outlaw. So I had no idea what to do, especially in a game where our lives were at stake, and our opponent was Kenneth Thornton, who wasn't playing fair.

I feared he'd alerted the whole country, and not knowing what was waiting for us, I imagined the worst. I had a few hours to imagine the worst, as we'd agreed to go far enough to put the cops off our scent in case we got recognized, and the ride was long, awkward, and silent.

I preferred that to Blade's snide remarks, and it allowed me to plan my moves and regulate the hammerings of my heart. Yet when the car stopped, my heart rate was even more erratic, and my hands so shaky that it took me a moment to grab my things.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Blade was already halfway through the parking lot when I got out of the car, but his sharp glare over his shoulders easily reached me, like his loud curse words reached the few horrified housewives around.

"Shh! Do you want to get us caught?" I asked, though contrary to him, I waited to have joined him, and I whispered, my gaze carefully checking that the people's attention was going back to the daily offers.

"Me, no, but you, do you want a newspaper to look even more suspect?" He sneered, managing to look down at my lifted collar and even at my Homburg hat from his lifted eyebrow, and I fought to not raise my voice.

"I'm trying to stay undercover." That was the plan, even if he was hindering it with his laugh. "The cops use these techniques all the time."

"Yeah, and do you know why I call them the pigs?" He leaned closer, finally lowering his voice like he was about to reveal some big secret. "Because I can smell them from a mile away, even 'undercover'."

And upon those words, he was back to his showy self, pushing the hat off my head with a wide gesture. "If you cover something, people wanna look under. Curiosity is a common human vice."

I didn't doubt he knew a lot about those.

"But if you're the one looking, it's them who'll hide. The secret is to make them look down. First, they don't get the time to recognize you, two, they won't suspect you're 'undercover'." He shrugged, stepping away and giving a nod of his chin. "Try it."

Could I trust him? My eyes traveled from his piercing gaze staring at me under an expectant eyebrow to Grandpa Al's hat on the ground, and to the few people around, passing us by without a second glance, and his arguments strangely sounded reasoned.

If that was what he used with his smug attitude and sharp attacks, it worked. I'd had no desire to get to know him. Only Dorothy was crazy enough for that.

So inhaling a deep breath, I mustered all my confidence and adrenaline, trying to get rid of the shakiness and the lifted collar of the jacket that was starting to suffocate me on the exhale, and I took a step forward, chin lifted, chest puffed – and for the stupid smirk, I passed.  

Then, I only had to walk, but that was the thing; walking was automatic, like breathing, yet from the moment you were thinking about it, it wasn't natural anymore, and when on top of that, I focused my gaze ahead, both my legs and my lungs felt stiff.

There was no one in front of me, but staring down at the large building was a greater challenge. The neon sign wouldn't blink away, and although the fairly new beige facade and bright window displays were welcoming, it was what it was covering that made my breath waver: the security guards near the entrance, the eyes in every aisle, and the many price tags that showed numbers we wouldn't be able to afford all.

"That's all you can do, Romeo?"

I jumped out of my stare at the sound of Blade's voice, his tone a mix of sharp disdain and mocking sarcasm. That way, you could never know if he was about to laugh at your face or throw a punch, but either way, it was the last straw for my strained nerves.

"A grandma with her walking stick looks scarier!"

"Not everyone is a professional criminal, and I have other hobbies than scaring people!" I stepped up at his face, my fists balled and ready to take down his stupid smirk and disdainful gaze.

"Better. We're not fully there, but it'll do." He tilted his head before walking away with that same unaffected stance and smug smile, leaving me dumbfounded.

Yet as I was looking daggers at his back, my gaze was indeed ahead and unblinking, and my gait determined as I followed him. His techniques may have been dubious and rude, but he was a great criminal.

As we grabbed two shopping carts and passed the entrance, the neon from the sign above even flickered, sending a shot of adrenaline through my veins, and it pumped faster at the sight appearing behind the glass doors.

I narrowed my eyes at the many alleys spreading in front of us, my chin lifting to take in the three tall pyramids of canned food, and I didn't blink away from the cardboard signs all around as my hand slowly slid to my pants pocket.

"Let's the fun begin!" Blade announced as if it was some kind of game, and from his large grin, as he jumped on the bottom part of his cart, it surely was for him.

I understood why Dorothy had insisted we went together because I was the sensible one here, while he was careless, impulsive, and... so much like her.

"Ooh... cherry gums." He stopped by the second stand, the most colorful, and he completely overlooked the toilet paper of the first aisle, not following any logic or list, just his instincts as he grabbed two packs, like Dorothy would have. "My favorite!"

"We can't buy this. We need to keep our money for real, filling food." I pushed my cart, which was already filled with canned food and toilet paper, next to his.

"Who's said I was buying it?"

Yes, he was so much like Dorothy... except he had no morals, and he slipped the two small packs into his pocket.

"Okay, I'll go get the ginger and some fresh products." I focused on the list in my hand and not on the emptiness in his, which he was waving proudly. "You, go get the rice, pasta, and other dry food."

He should have been fine with recognizing those, but I still tore half of my piece of paper to give him, which made him stare at me with wide eyes and a cocked eyebrow.

"Wow, like a real housewife! You make grocery lists, cook... Do you iron the laundry too?"

I wasn't sure if he was still trying to make me murderous to make people look down or if he was just having fun because he, contrary to me, had probably slept in the past two nights, but I chose to ignore him once again.

"We'll meet in the middle." My hands tightened around the cart handle, and my feet quickened, determined... to get away from his sneer.

I didn't worry about my gait, nor my breaths, and with my bloodshot eyes, I did manage to make the few people I passed avert their gazes down, although the women did it with a blush. I didn't know if it was a good thing, but I was already relieved to arrive at the produce section, quickly spotting the ginger.

That was easy, at least until my fingers wrapped around the knobby root.

'Don't forget the five fingers discount.'

It had been one of the few words Blade had uttered through the ride when we'd agreed that we couldn't use all of Dorothy's savings at once.

'One, if it's small...' I looked down at the beige root that fitted easily in my palm.

'Two, when no one's looking...' My gaze scanned the whole area, and there was no one around.

'Three, if you've got large clothes and pockets...' I was currently suffocating in my jacket.

'Four, you discreetly slip it in your pocket, making sure it doesn't show...' The inside pocket of my jacket was perfect for it.

'And five, your hand's empty. That's the five fingers discount!'

Yet my hand didn't resemble Blade's, which he'd opened like in some magical trick. Mine was shaking, almost tetanized as I took in what I'd just done, and a battle started between my conscience and Blade's advice in the back of my head, both fighting for the control of my hand's movements: going back or continuing?

Stealing was bad. It was against all my principles. That ginger was here thanks to the hard work of the supermarket's employees and the farmers. They deserved that money, maybe even needed it.

I'd always been told to follow the right way. I could still hear my dad grumbling against the street kids stealing at the candy shop and the outlaws holding the banks up, preaching that being honest and upright was always paying off more in the end. But that same man had also resigned to keep silent on the Thorntons' crooked ways because the mayor was the one paying his checks. That same man had warned me that the police were coming after Dorothy and that even if she was on the right way, she would pay the cost.

Dorothy... in this battle between right and wrong, it was the images of her soft eyes blurred with tears and her pale body shuddering in front of the toilet that pulled my hand into movement, and for her, I stole again.

No matter which side she was on, my scales would always tip toward her.

For Dorothy, she was the only thing on my mind, her and the baby, as I stopped by the plums stall. The baby surely needed vitamins to grow healthily; at least, that was what I guessed, as I realized there were so many things I had no idea about to take care of a baby, and my list maybe wasn't enough. Dorothy had to eat for two now, and if the nausea calmed, she would surely have cravings.

Finally, I grabbed twice as much as what was written on my list, and my cart and pockets were full when I went back to the middle of the supermarket, where there was still no trace of Blade.

My first thought was that he'd got caught, my second that he'd got scared by the responsibilities of having a baby, and that he'd ditched me in the middle of nowhere with no way to go back to Dorothy. Both were possible, and my mind and heartbeat were already reeling about what to do, almost as fast as my gaze all over the empty area, before the third possibility came to me: he could be slow, as he wasn't used to this kind of tasks and grocery list.

I decided to settle for this one for a few more minutes, trying to slow down my thoughts, my heart, and my eyes as I finished my investigation of the two empty aisles by my sides, and I caught sight of the stall in front of me. It was exactly what I needed. Books always held the answer.

Yet as my fingers skimmed the two rows of spines in search of some kind of guidebook, they drifted to the next shelf, landing on a different kind of paper, thinner and coarser. It was surely some sort of conditioning from my past job, or because newspapers too carried answers, even if not the ones I wanted.

One word, and it was saying it all, along with the picture under.

I'd always known Dorothy would end up on the front page of a newspaper, yet I'd imagined it would have been for flying to the moon or something like that, not as a wanted 'murderer'.

It might have only been in the footer, but the word was a reminder glaring enough to make me avert my eyes down. Of course, the journalists had to make attention-catcher titles, though I didn't dare to read the lead text, as the 'WANTED' in big bold letters surely wasn't far from the truth. Kenneth must have put a bounty over our heads, our three heads.

At first, I'd only seen Dorothy's photo as it was the biggest one, and we were almost unrecognizable, but we were all here. 'Three dangerous young people: Dorothy Duncan, Blade Sayer, and Spencer Colt.'

I could have almost believed the inscription myself, as the 'wanted' seemed to cast dark shadows over our pictures – except for Dorothy, as not even the black and white photo could darken her colorful aura and soft features, and with her curls a little wilder than usual and frowning face, she just looked like a pirate princess.

But Blade... well, he looked more dangerous than usual, and he wouldn't like that an ink drip was deforming his nose.

As for me, I barely recognized myself in a picture that had probably been taken at the end of a football game, from what I glimpsed of the black shade around my right eye, and I resembled a real criminal. I was one.

It was surely the strongest hit of reality, the concrete paper in my shaky hands making it too real.

I could try to convince myself that it was a subjective article, not portraying the whole truth, like the photos, yet my pockets were full of proofs of the contrary, and as a gasp echoed on the next aisle, only an outlaw would have had his hair standing on end.

Only an outlaw would have had their fight or flight instincts kicking in through a shot of adrenaline that pulled their muscles into movements, and I could already feel that rush tickling my hands and my legs as I listened carefully for any noise: police sirens, gunshots, or other sounds that were becoming too familiar.

However, there was nothing other than a faint and nerve-wracking hubbub and the echo of the curse word, which left me no doubt that it was Blade, and it was surely serious because he wasn't the kind to lose his breath easily.

What if someone had recognized him? What if he'd got caught stealing? All the possibilities were spinning with the adrenaline in my veins as I pondered what was the safest to do as an outlaw.

Everything seemed to point at the large exit sign, but we were a team – I'd promised Dorothy, and even if I was an outlaw now, I was still a man of word. I couldn't abandon him, nor the food, and he was the only one knowing how to hotwire the car.

So I opted for the fight option, pushing the cart in front of me and grabbing a large can as a weapon in my hand, and I hoped I wouldn't regret it.

***

*DOROTHY'S POV*

I was regretting it. Each tick of the clock was making me regret it, adding more seconds, minutes, hours, and more knots in my stomach as I counted that it had been too long. Just staring at that clock on the shelf was proof that it had been too long because I'd had the time to wind it and put it back in its rightful place, like every item that had been laying in the boxes.

It had taken me hours, but the cabin finally resembled the outlaws' refuge from my memories. Even if it still lacked a few items that had been taken away, the typewriter was back on the desk, the trinkets on the mantel; the carpets had replaced the layer of dust, and mostly, there was no more haunting white sheet on any furniture. I'd even got rid of the musty smell with a few drafts and fresh bouquets of wildflowers in every room.

Yet something was missing for these stripped beige walls to feel like a cozy home... a hint of soapy spice and smokey vanilla. It missed Spencer and Blade.

I'd done all of this to surprise them, and by now, I should have already seen their wide eyes and heard Blade's raspy chuckle and Spencer's soft praises, or even their bickerings. But there were only the maddening ticking of the clock and more regrets.

I regretted having let them go. I regretted having pulled them into all those dangers. I regretted having put up that clock. I was thinking about taking it down, but then, there would only be my spiraling thoughts.

Besides, it may not have been the only tick-tock echoing around, as my fingers were spinning Blade's fidget toy to ease the restlessness, and I wished I could have the same for the rest of my body, my tired legs that were treading the wooden floor again and again, my gaze going back and forth between the clock and the window, and my brain, which was spinning in circles too. All of this was starting to make me dizzy, and before ending once more in the bathroom, I decided to sit down on the armchair that had been waiting for me all these hours.

"It was Grandpa's favorite..." I whispered, a hand over my stomach as the memories of sitting on Grandpa's lap engulfed me with the smooth velvet.

It was often when I'd begged him to go outside and teach me new tricks, and although he would have always given in, he'd also argued that this armchair was magical. It was where he'd found most of the keys to his mysteries because we could glimpse the infinite sky and the inspiring nature from the side window, but also see the crime board above his desk.

I surely should have tried to find the solution to my own mysteries, yet with the vegetation that had grown, I couldn't see more than a dot of blue sky, and his empty board wouldn't have been enough to write down the clutters of crimes and lies I needed to get out of, not even for all the reasons why I loved Blade and Spencer, and I already didn't have Grandpa's calm wisdom in general, so here... it seemed impossible.

"We'll do something else that Grandpa loved to do here: reading the newspaper." Not the current ones, as we didn't have them, and it was surely for the better. Yet there were Grandpa's, the ones with articles he'd written.

That way, we would have his words with us. I definitely wanted this baby to know about Grandpa when she or he would come into this world, and I too needed his wise words. Maybe it could guide me like he would have done if he'd been here, or at least, it would distract me a little because what he'd been writing wasn't boring pieces of news like other articles; it was real mysteries and adventures.

So stopping the swing of the fidget toy, I grabbed a newspaper from the coffee table.

'An unlikely team of outlaws' – okay, maybe not this one.

My hand reached for the next: 'Dismantled ring.' Another one...

'Mysterious cargo found in New Port', it sounded better, at least until I read the first line about 'guns and category one weapons', bringing me back to my crimes.

'Knife in the back.' It seemed impossible to distract my mind, as it traveled back to Blade and his knife. Had he taken it with him? Surely, because he always carried it in his pockets. But what other weapons had they to defend themselves? A pen and their powers?

For me, they were invincible, my evil genie and my prince charming... However, we were in no fairytale, and the butterflies and sparks they created in my insides, as strong as they were, would be of no use there. I should have given them the gun. It could have helped them in case, instead of laying at my waist, useless, like me in this armchair as my thoughts swirled with possible scenarios, and my fingers flipped another newspaper. 

'Settling of scores at Tuscon' – Had I told them to not rip each other's throat? No, they wouldn't, would they? But they could fight and pull attention on themselves, dropping their guards...

We were back to those same regrets. I shouldn't have let them go together, alone. I trusted them with all my heart, but maybe it was the problem. I could have overestimated them, or more exactly, underestimated Kenneth Thornton.

He would stop at nothing...

Just as a shiver of powerlessness surged down my spine, a crunch echoed outside, sending the freezing chills throughout my whole body. Could my thoughts have made him appear? No, or else, Blade and Spencer would have been there for long already.

Yet there was a presence coming behind the front door; I was sure, and there was no other sound, no engine roar, no quarrel. Even the bird chirpings and the tick-tock sounded farther away as I quietly walked to the door.

When I glimpsed an unfamiliar and growing shadow through the frosted glass of the door's sidelight, those same instincts that had led me to kill Douglas were spreading in my veins with the fast thumps of my heart. Protective instincts, I realized as my hands moved, one going over my stomach, and the other switching off the safety of the gun.

I surely should have checked at the turret window to see who was approaching, but when the handle moved, I didn't have the time anymore.

Army coming to catch me, haunting ghost, mythical monster of the wood, or smart bear, I wouldn't let anyone hurt my baby, and I let the trail of shivers lift my hand as I inhaled a steady breath and pushed myself against the wall.

It was the best position to slide my armed hand behind a possible shield, hide, and attack, all at the same time, or in wiser words, 'catch before being caught'.

As soon as the slit of the door was wide enough, I was jumping forward, catching the intruder off guard. Yet it was my breath that was caught, along with my heart, freezing the rush of adrenaline in my veins that had been about to move my fingers on the trigger, when I took in the design at the muzzle of my gun.

There was no insignia, no ferocious teeth. No, it was another kind of magical creature.

"Glad to see you too, Shooting star." Blade offered me his Cheshire cat's smile, completely unaffected, while I stared, breathless, at the snake ink by his jugular, where my gun was aiming, and at the soft skin I loved to kiss so much.

I'd been so close to shooting him. How could I have? For my defense, I could barely glimpse his smirk with the overfilled bags in his arms, and it was the same for the rest of his tall figure.

"Can you put it down? It's the second time today I get attacked, and it's starting to be a lot."

"Oh yes, I'm sorry." I pulled out of my trance, quickly putting the revolver away and switching the safety back on, while my other hand reached for his neck, brushing gently to feel the precious thuds under my fingertips. "Wait, someone else attacked you today?!"

"Yeah, him, right there." He nodded to Spencer who was joining us, well, what I could recognize of him behind as many bags as Blade was holding.

"I was coming to your rescue! That will teach me to help you..."

"With canned food? And from what were you 'rescuing' me? A jar of apple sauce?" Blade taunted with a lifted eyebrow, making Spencer's ones lower in a frown like every time they bickered.

It felt good to hear them, and even if I didn't understand everything, I let my heart settle into a steadier rhythm, swinging between the two men.

They were safe and here with me, though I was still curious about that canned food story.

"It's not my fault you gasped like you were in distress, and we've already talked enough about it during the ride. Can we focus on Dorothy now?" Spencer turned back to me, his annoyed frown shifting to worry, yet I still noted that he was trying to change the subject, and I definitely had to hear the whole story later. "How are you feeling? Did you rest?"

"Um, yes... a little..." It was my turn to dodge the questions. "By the way, you took longer than I thought. What did you get in all those bags? Isn't it a little too much?"

"No, we can't go every day, so we need some stocks," Blade explained, putting down the bags and going back to the car, where more were waiting in the backseat, and Spencer probably caught my wide stare as he added, placing his own bags on the floor, and thus, filling the other half of the entrance,

"And you'll need most of this: vitamins, minerals... I've found a few books about pregnancy and becoming parents, and they say it's really important for you and the baby."

"You've bought books?!" This sounded like Spencer, sweet and foresighted, and it brought those familiar butterflies to tickle a smile on my lips. Yet the pressure of reality was still tensing the rest of my body.

As much as we needed guidebooks, we needed to clear up our situation more, and money was as important as vitamins for this.

"No, don't worry. I've stolen them, like we did for most of the things we have here." He shrugged, as if it was the most normal thing in the world, as if honesty wasn't one of his most valued principles, as if he hadn't always been the one playing the cop in our games because he was unable to steal.

That didn't sound like the guy I knew. What had Blade done to my Spencer? My large eyes shot up to the evil genie as he walked back to us with his confident gait. Yet the words and the breath were stolen from my parted lips when he announced,

"By the way, I have a little surprise for the baby."

'Little surprise'? 'The baby'?! I blinked several times, but the words were indeed coming out of Blade's lips in his unmistakable sharp velvet voice, and it was more serious than I'd thought.

They'd switched personalities. Either I was dreaming – but Douglas's ghost was more realistic than that – or they'd been abducted by aliens... It seemed plausible as Spencer searched casually through some stolen products, and Blade looked at me with expectant eyes, handing me a light paper bag, which I grabbed with unsure hands.

I was expecting it to explode as I resigned myself to open it, still confused, and there was indeed an explosion, an explosion of sparks in my chest when I pulled out a piece of black leather. That was my evil genie.

"A leather jacket... for the baby?" I whispered in front of the small jacket, so dark and precious, a lot like the man standing behind it.

"I know it's early, but I couldn't resist. It's so cool for this little badass." His gaze flickered to my belly with that same enigmatic and piercing look, yet I was starting to understand that it was like when I stared at the stars in the sky. "I hope it'll fit. I didn't find bigger, but it looks so fucking tiny."

Now it was the jacket that he was eyeing like a mystery, his fingers holding the little sleeves like he was trying to picture the baby's tiny arms in them.

"It will. A newborn is between 6 or 7 pounds and 20 inches from what they say here."

My attention was pulled back to Spencer and the book in his hands. They were back to normal. It was my Spen and my Evil genie.

"Only 20 inches?! Fuck..." Blade tried to picture the height between his hands, and I bit down the giggle climbing up my lips, the sensation so much sweeter than the bile of the past days.

"The jacket will be perfect." You'll both be perfect; that was what my heart was actually echoing as flutters of butterfly wings and sparking powder warmed my whole chest, and I realized the overwhelming warmth had reached my eyes when an inked finger grazed my wet cheek.

"Don't cry," Blade whispered quietly as more tears were slipping out, and his fingers wouldn't be enough.

"It's good tears." Happy tears. Hopeful tears.

I put a hand over my stomach, smiling as Spencer pulled a tissue out of nowhere to wipe my other cheek.

I knew that whatever happened, this baby would have the best dads. In their own, unique and opposite ways, Blade and Spencer had so much care and love to give.

It wasn't helping for my cornelian choice, but anyway, I was determined to choose the one my heart wanted before the nine months deadline. It would only be fair to everyone: Spencer, Blade, me, and this baby. I couldn't leave this to fate.

"Thank you for everything you're doing." I sniffled from my tissue, pointing at the jacket, the book, the grocery, and so much more my fingers could never touch as they walked me back to the family room, and Blade replied with one of his low chuckles,

"It's nothing. No need to cry for that."

"I think you need some chocolate for the m–" Spencer stopped dead in his tracks as soon as he stepped inside the room, leading to a chain reaction where I bumped into his back, and Blade in mine.

"Who's gasping now? Are you in 'distress'?" Blade mocked, and as he was right above my shoulder, I could hear the smirk on his lips, though maybe it was just obvious as Spencer threw him a narrowed glance.

"I'm not undercover here, and I have a real reason to gasp." He advanced further into the room, his grin widening with each step, as he was finding back the cabin he'd known and the memories going with it, and also because Blade was breathless too.

"Fuck, it looks good, and it smells good!"

I inhaled deeply like Blade did, and indeed, now, I found the scents that had been missing. "I wanted to make you a little surprise too."

"Are you sure you didn't want to convince us to stay here forever?" Spencer asked, his twinkling eyes and lifted eyebrows telling me he was half-joking, and perhaps, a tiny, little, mischievous part of me had whispered about it, a lot like the devil over my shoulder murmuring,

"It's working..."

"No.. no." I stepped away to shake off any echo of the thought and the dangerous sparks Blade was trailing on my skin. "We can't get away forever. But we'll be better to think and find solutions, and we can savor the cozy refuge... just for a few days."

'Just for a few days', do you think they'll find a solution? And will she be able to choose between Spencer and Blade?

It's hard because they're both so cute and perfect daddies 😉😍

Also, we need to talk about their improbable duo. I hope you listened to the song while reading to picture the scene like I did when I wrote it: badass, hot, and so fun for their grocery mission 😂😈🔥 They didn't kill each other finally, and they're working well!

This scene made me think of one of the last chapters of Love Bug, where Ana and Hadi are also on a mission together (If you've read Love Bug, you know what I'm talking about 😉🤫). I think there's something so powerful when 2 people so different and not getting along are coming together on a badass mission, united for Love! 🔥

I hope you liked it too! And if so, don't forget to vote ⭐ and comment!

Keep shining, my little Shooting stars! 😘🌠💕

PS: I hope you also caught the wink at Tangled and Flynn Rider with the nose deformed on the Wanted picture 😉 (You know it's my favorite Disney movie)