Natan 11.' We're actually being silly for once' kiss?
“Please, you’ll like it.”
“I’ve actually never liked a single movie pick of yours, Natalie.”
“Yeah? Well everything you pick has blood in it.”
Lucifer groaned melodramatically and sunk back into the couch, and Natalie counted it as a silent victory and slid the disc in the player. She settled in on the couch next to him as a large, white lettered title decorated the screen, and soft string music played on the main menu.
The movie panned over a grassy field, then dramatically cut to a woman facing a stack of papers and an endless pile of stress assigned by her overbearing boss in an ill-fitting suit. After another round of lighthearted background music as the quirky blonde realized her life wasn’t what she wanted, Lucifer crossed his arms and frowned.
“I swear, girl, if this is another movie where the blonde girls moves away, meets a perfect guy, then contracts a deadly disease, I’m gonna scream.”
Natalie leaned closer to Lucifer and slapped his chest, “Not a disease, amnesia.”
He chewed on the word thoughtfully before nodding slowly, like it made perfect sense, “Oh yes, amnesia. Of course.”
She didn’t move away from him, and he watched her eyes light up as the girl finally motivated herself enough to get away from the big city, and move away to the country. It was a tired plot that he’d seen for decades, but he supposed humans were buying exactly what was being sold.
The onscreen onslaught of rain indicated that something sad was about to happen, and he perked up as Natalie’s lower lip trembled slightly, and the sharp bark of laughter that escaped him startled her.
He bumped his shoulder with hers, “You’re not crying over this, are you, girl?”
Natalie turned her face up towards his, her cheeks shining in the light of the TV, “N-no,” she argued, a sniff making her protest sound pathetic.
Lucifer hummed low in his throat and nodded, “Next time I get to pick the movie.”
“Aren’t even gonna wait until the credits roll to whine,” Natalie teased, shaking her head melodramatically, “typical.”
“Not my fault everything you pick is shitty romance.”
At that, Natalie laughed, “So quick to judge. As if you know real romance.”
“Watch who you’re talking to,” Lucifer said, gesturing broadly to himself, “I’ve been alive long enough to know what real romance is.
The couple on screen was shouting over the pounding rain, confessing their love that they were too afraid to admit, too afraid it would ruin things between them. The indistinguishable main character strode over to the blonde girl and held her face for a brief second before kissing her, and both looked fairly perfect for being rain soaked.
Natalie ignored the playing scene, “Oh yeah? And what’s that old man?”
Lucifer’s eyes flickered up to the TV screen for a flash, and then pressed his lips to Natalie’s in a quick moment that had her gasping against his lips. The shock only lasted a moment before Natalie matched his energy, kissing him like she was starved for his touch.
Her fingers snapped as she raked them through his hair and pulled herself closer, but the pain didn’t distract from the softness of her lips against his, and he tilted his head back to follow her. He would have chased her out in the rain and kissed her until he drowned, but she would never run from him. Natalie had practically climbed into his lap at her insistence, and when she finally broke the kiss, she laughed against his lips.
When he finally spoke again after a few, long breaths, Natalie could taste his words against her skin, “Real romance is nothing involving amnesia, that’s for sure.”