Cookie Thief
He likes to stalk around the kitchen whenever she's there. He's given up on the helping part, because helping always involves some kind of dinner mess or him getting violently thrown out of the kitchen.
So he hovers, popping in and out for random things like juice or a sandwich or anything that can give him enough time to find out what she's doing in there.
She's baking, more often than not. She's taken up the hobby of baking for Beth's class every Friday because it helps the kids unwind from a stressful week. Her words used, not his.
It's torture, too, when they have to drive to school together and he has to walk away from the damn cookies (they're mostly always cookies, though if it's a special occasion they're cupcakes). She saves him one and only one and it's all he ever gets when they meet up at the lounge for lunch.
This routine is starting to drive him insane. So today, he had a plan. He was paying for almost all of the ingredients anyway. Wasn't fair at all that he wasn't getting his fair share.
"You gonna distract her long enough for me to get the cookies?" Puck asks his daughter, taking a quick glance at the kitchen before looking back at her.
"Dad, you're acting like you're five," Beth retorts, looking up at him from her sketchbook. "Just walk in there and grab some cookies. Aren't you the one that's always telling me that a person's got to stand their ground?"
"You ever tried standing your ground to your momma? She's like those old ladies that'd chase you around with their purse, except she's got a spoon and an electric mixer in her hand and it's pretty scary."
Beth rolls her eyes, the same way her mother does, before shouting out for her mother loudly. He makes a mental note to pay her back with that new CD she's been bugging him for this past week.
It's only then, when Quinn slips out of the kitchen to go to Beth's side, that Puck sneaks into the kitchen. The oven's already open, as if she was about to grab the cookies and take them out. So he approaches and, rather stupidly, reaches for the baking sheet without a mitt or towel to protect him.
It's a cross between a howl and a scream that he lets out when he grabs onto the metal sheet, dropping it onto the stovetop afterwards.
"Puck, what are you doing?!" Quinn all but shouts, rushing back into the kitchen.
He's been caught at this point, he realizes, so he goes for the kill and grabs a cookie, popping it into his mouth. The tears that come to his eyes due to the practically scalding hot cookies are too many to say. He doesn't spit it out, instead swallowing the still burning cookie so that he could get his fill.
"My hand!" he tells her after, trying to ignore the burn on the roof of his mouth and tongue. "Touched that thing with my bare hand!"
Quinn's forcefully grabbing his hand then, rushing it over to the sink to run it under some lukewarm water.
"Mom, you married an idiot," Beth says, standing by the entryway.
"I know sweetie," Quinn replies with a nod, trying her best to not reach for that spoon and beat some sense into Puck.
He's got a smirk on his face, however, as he stands by the sink with her. "Cookie was good, though. Worth it, even."
Safe to say, this wasn't the last time it happened. Some people would never learn.
