"What have you done?" Both bags of groceries crashed to the floor with a thump. The cylindrical container of oatmeal rolled out of the bag and across the floor until it smacked into the refrigerator. "What were you thinking?" Quinn stared at Puck as if he had crashed their shared, ancient vehicle into the side of the tiny guest house they were renting out, or – even worse – as if he had eaten a bacon cheeseburger in front of her very eyes without sharing and breaking kosher. "Relax, sweets," he assured her with his trademark smile, wiggling both eyebrows upward. Both of her fists started to clench at her sides. His attempt to soothe her with seduction failed, miserably so.

"I—" her lower lip began to quiver, and she reached upward to press both palms into her cheeks. "Why?" she inquired once more, her speech even shorter and snippier the second time around. The icy glare she sent his way was enough to start freaking him out. Only then did he begin to look panicked, eyes growing wide as he looked from one corner of the room to the other with his jaw slightly ajar and vocabulary temporarily vanished. Boy, did he look guilty. His arms spread to both sides and he shrugged helplessly, though he didn't dare look her in the eye.

"I thought it would be cute," he muttered finally, his whole face scrunching up in disdain.

It was silly, Quinn realized, to sob over the bits of pale blonde hair scattered over their worn-out kitchen floor.

It was stupid, Puck realized, to continue holding the electric razor in his hand.

Awkwardly, he side-stepped toward the counter to settle the implement on top, inwardly hoping Quinn hadn't already thought up creative ways to destroy it. He knew better than anyone that when one Quinn Fabray is upset, she is pissed. The gesture didn't go unnoticed. There may as well have been sharpened daggers flying from her eyes, because he cringed and realized that maybe he fucked up too far this time.

Giggles broke the tense silence, accompanied by light applause. While her mother may have been traumatized, baby Beth was incredibly amused. Perched up in her high chair, a chubby little hand lifted upward to rub over both the smooth skin of her head and ruffle through the wide strip of blonde hair left. Mohawks now outnumbered any other hairstyle in the Fabray-Puckerman residence (more like a shack, but it was their home, theirs) 2-to-1.

Exhaling a soft sigh, Quinn leaned against the counter as she reached out to haul Beth up and into her arms. That precious little laugh was enough to melt even her heart, one she had spent her whole life protecting behind brick walls. Slowly, ever so slowly, a small smile started to tug at the corners of her lips. Her head turned to face the window, because she didn't want him to have the satisfaction of knowing too quickly that he wasn't in hot water after all. But he knew. He always knew.

Puck was loathe to interrupt the moment, too distracted watching the mother of his child bounce their daughter on her hip. He did, however, inch closer and closer until he hovered behind his two favorite girls, looking down upon them with a grin of happiness that simply could not be contained. Beth beamed and crinkled her tiny nose at him, and he responded with a wink. Father and daughter were totally on the same wavelength.

"That was her first hair-cut, you idiot," Quinn finally hissed out in a low and disapproving tone, jabbing him in the shoulder with her free hand clenched lightly into a fist. Oh. That's why she was so angry. "You can't just do these first-step-important things without me. Now I don't even have a pic-"

"Did someone say picture?" Sam peeked through the screen door, waving enthusiastically with a dopey grin plastered on his face and a camera in his hand. Kurt narrowed his eyes and sighed, bumping the blond quarterback with his hip. "Way to eavesdrop, Samuel." Poor Sam hung his head a little in shame, but Kurt's winning smile promptly cheered him back up. With a smirk, Puck shuffled over the few steps it took to grab the handle of the door and crack it open so the pair could enter their humble abode.

"We were wondering if we could take Beth to the park fo—" The slender brunet promptly cut himself off once he saw the travesty that was Beth's hair. Kurt was never the biggest fan of children, but Beth was one of the few exceptions and no one deserved to have their hair butchered involuntarily. "You didn't," he breathed, staring at Puck for a long moment before giving Quinn the most sympathetic of expressions. "I'm so sorry."

"I think it's adorable," Sam didn't see what the big deal was. He never saw what the big deal was. "It's just hair. It'll grow back. She's a baby." Pause. "And look, she likes it." Beth really couldn't stop stroking the fuzzy top of her head. It felt like one of her favorite stuffed animals. Puck lifted a hand to clap Sam on the back. At least someone agreed.

A few moments later, Puck realized that the groceries Quinn dropped were still scattered all over the floor, and they certainly did not have the money to buy another gallon of milk. He crouched down to gather it all up in his arms and tuck everything into its proper place, playing the very perfect and helpful gentleman. Quinn wasn't sure what to say, so she hesitantly handed little Beth over to Sam after kissing the top of her head. She so uncomfortable with relinquishing her hold on Beth every single time, no matter who it was, Especially after going through the strenuous ordeal of getting her back.

"Maybe we'll stop by the mall and grab her a hat first…" Kurt mused with a cringe, waving goodbye before slipping his arm about Sam's waist and accompanying little Beth out for a short adventure. "We'll be back in a few hours!" he added breezily.

Puck pretended like he was fascinated by the process of organizing cans of soup in the cupboard. He wasn't, and Quinn was not fooled. "Seriously?" The blonde wriggled underneath his arms stretched upward to place herself between him and the counter. They were close, incredibly close, with her body trapped against his. He could feel her warm breath on his neck, though she wasn't trying to be as sensual as she was attempting to get the extent of her anger across. "I'm sorry," he murmured finally and sincerely. His hands slid downward to settle on her hips, and hoist her up to sit on the edge of the counter. Leaning in to make dangerously close eye contact, he whispered: "I'll let you use the razor next time."

Barking out a laugh, Quinn grabbed both of his shoulders and gripped him so hard that her fingernails came close to tearing through the fabric of his t-shirt. "Tomorrow is Easter," she began, glaring at him steadily. "You're going with us," she added. He tried to pretend like he was disappointed but honestly, he would have gone anyway even if she had demanded he stay at home. "And she's wearing the costume."

"Can't we just get her a tiny, frilly hat from the thrift store or something?" he wondered, cringing at the thought.

"She's wearing the bunny costume. Deal with it, Puckerman." They stared at each other for another minute or so; to anyone else it may have appeared as if they were about to rip each other to shreds, but in actuality they were about to rip each other's clothes to shreds. It was a game they liked to play, staring at each other so intensely before one of them broke and gave into temptation.

Puck lost. As usual. "Fine, Fabray. Fine. You win." He always technically lost, but they were both winners no matter what. He leaned in to bite the sensitive spot where shoulder met neck. Quinn sighed and wrapped her arms around him just as her legs encircled his waist. "I hate you," she mumbled shakily into his ear before her teeth nipped at his earlobe. "I hate you too," he chuckled and slapped her ass before carrying her off to their bedroom to enjoy their short time off-duty.