Natalie thought it was hilarious, how his distaste for the season was only curbed by the overabundance of sweets that came with it.
"Stop being so bitter," she told him, almost every hour on the hour in the days leading up to Christmas, with no small amount of amusement. He only huffed and turned away from her, and she just laughed to herself.
He was so overdramatic.
He glared at the lights and the trees with disdain. He rolled his eyes when she dragged him shopping so she could pick out presents for her friends. He mocked the people wearing Santa hats or reindeer ears and he would've soured many a child's holiday spirit if Natalie wasn't quick enough to pull him away.
Perhaps the funniest of his aversions to the season, however, was none other than mistletoe. He couldn't leave the poor sprigs alone. Whenever he passed one he'd rip it down and tread over it, as if he had a personal vendetta against the leaves.
So of course, Natalie made it a priority to hang them up around the house in various places, just to mess with him. In the pantry, in the bathroom, over every doorway, in obscure alcoves and shadowed corners. She tucked them in between the pages of his favorite books and in the cookie jar.
Her dad, bless his heart, didn't question the excess of mistletoe he kept finding, but instead would joke with Stan about being caught together under it in passing. Natalie thought these moments in particular made Satan's wrath worth it, without a shadow of a doubt.
The few weeks leading up to the holiday were rocky at best, with Satan's sour mood swings, but Natalie was determined not to let him spoil her own. When Christmas Day rolled around, she was pleasantly surprised at his civility.
Presents and dinner came and went, and as the day wound down, the two of them were found watching some cheesy Hallmark Christmas movie as the clock ticked nearer to the 26th. Alex had retired early and Max had gone to visit a few of his friends from high school, leaving the pair to their own devices.
"Hey," Natalie said, looking over at Lucifer. He grunted in acknowledgement, and nudged him. "Hey," she said again.
This time, he looked over at her.
"What do you want?"
"Is that any way to talk to someone who got you a present?" she asked, a smile tugging at her lips. His brows furrowed as she rose up on her knees.
"You didn't get me a…" His voice trailed off as she reached behind the couch, pulling out a thin, gift wrapped box. She plopped back onto her seat, folding her legs beneath her, and handed it to him.
He took it from her, examining it, testing its weight in his hands.
"Don't psychoanalyze it, just open it, dude." He shot her a glare and shoved his finger through a hole in the wrapping paper, ripping it easily. He made quick work of the rest of the paper and less so of the taped box, but eventually it came open.
He reached inside and pulled out tissue paper. And more tissue paper. And more, and more, until there was nothing left. Incredulous, he turned the box upside down and shook it, just to be sure he wasn't missing anything.
He looked up at her, eyes narrowed.
"You bi—" She cut him off with a laugh, and she wasn't looking at him, but above him. He followed her eyes up, up, up, to the corner where the wall met the ceiling. It took only a beat for the small, dark lump to take shape, but it was all she needed.
On her knees again, Natalie crossed the distance between them in the span of a breath and took his face between her hands, pressing her lips to his.
It was a short, sweet kiss, lasting only long enough for him to realize what had happened before she pulled away again. Her cheeks were flushed but she was wearing that ear-to-ear grin of hers.
"Merry not-Christmas, Lucifer," she whispered, and a quick glance at the clock told him that she was right — it was two minutes after midnight.
He looked back at her, eyes wide, jaw slack, and she giggled, reaching out with her fingertips to close his mouth.
"It's not so bad after all, huh?"
He rose to his feet and she whisper screamed at him not to stand on the couch between her laughter as he reached up and snagged the mistletoe, crumpling it between his fingers and tossing it on the floor.
"That was unnecessary. You didn't like your present?" she asked, attempting a pout as he sat back down. He grabbed her wrist and yanked her hard against him, and the breath left her with an oof!
"I don't need a fuckin' plant to kiss you," he said, now that they were forehead to forehead, nose to nose. Natalie smiled, wrapping her arms around his neck.
"Then what took you so long?" she teased.
"Shut up, girl," he muttered, and kissed her again.