#4

He was hungry.

Okay, he wasn't really starving but it was four o'clock and his mom was still making dinner so it will take a while before anything comes anywhere near his mouth. He walks towards the kitchen quietly and sits himself on the seat by the counter, as silently as humanly possible anyway. His short four year old hands reach towards the nearest jar to his right and unscrews the lid slowly and quietly and slowly until the jar opens soundlessly.

"What do you think you're doing?" His mother asks, in that mysterious, cool voice she always uses, her back still facing him as she washes some vegetables over the sink, her long blonde hair swaying lightly as she moves.

When she finally faces the little daredevil she tries so, so hard not to laugh and keep that stern motherly gaze on him. He's frozen now, doesn't move an inch, mouth slightly open, hand in the jar, fingers not quite long enough to even graze the top cookie. "I'm hungry," he croaks.

"You know you're not allowed to have a cookie before dinner." Her hands are crossed in front of her now.

"But, mom–" he complains. He knows it's pointless to protest but he does anyway even though his hand is well out of the jar now.

She walks over, screws back the lid in place and slides the cookie jar back to its original place. Leaning on the counter, she says, "Dinner's going to be ready in an hour, go finish your homework and it should be done when you are."

He grunts and slumps in his seat, then swivels the chair and leaves to do just that. A while later, when he's doing his homework in the living room on the coffee table (because he finds soothing melody in the sounds coming from the kitchen), his dad comes striding in and sits on the couch next to him, turning on the television before them. He looks at the older man, face scrunched up in question.

His dad looks towards the kitchen warily, a secretive expression on his face, and whispers, "Here you go, buddy." He has a piece of cookie, chocolate chip, wrapped with tissue in his hand, and hands it to the little guy. He lowers his voice further as he says, "Don't go tellin' your mom I gave it to you, okay?" Accepting it gratefully, he whispers a thank you and bites as the sound of his chewing is muted by the television.

Juliet pretends she doesn't know anything.


AN: This one was inspired by a prompt on Tumblr. It was one of those OTP text posts and this one was about if your OTP had a kid who would be the one to sneak their kid a cookie after the other parent said no. I hope you enjoyed reading! Review if you liked/disliked it? :)