The late afternoon sunlight filtered through the windows of Lucifer's kitchen, casting a warm glow on the sleek marble countertops. Sunday was perched on a barstool, legs swinging as she casually scrolled through her phone. Lucifer was leaning against the counter, sipping water from a tall glass. His broad shoulders and towering frame made him look effortlessly imposing, but the playful smirk tugging at his lips softened the effect.

Sunday glanced up, squinting at the cabinet above the sink. She tilted her head slightly, realizing she couldn't reach what she needed. With a sigh, she set her phone down and pointed toward the cabinet.

"Hey, can you grab that for me?" she asked, gesturing vaguely.

Lucifer turned to look at her, one brow arched. "That? What's that, mama? Be specific."

She rolled her eyes dramatically, pointing again. "The jar of honey! It's on the top shelf. You know, the shelf I can't reach because you insist on putting everything at skyscraper height."

Lucifer chuckled, setting his glass down. "Maybe if you wasn't so short, you wouldn't have this problem."

Sunday's jaw dropped, her face a mixture of mock offense and amusement. "Excuse me? Not all of us are built like basketball players, Mr. 6'2" with legs for days!"

He smirked as he crossed the kitchen, his strides long and deliberate. Stopping in front of the cabinet, he reached up effortlessly and grabbed the jar. Instead of handing it to her, though, he held it just out of her reach, his teasing nature fully activated.

"Say please," he teased, holding the jar high above her head like a prize.

Sunday narrowed her eyes, standing up on the barstool to try and grab it. "Lucifer, I swear-"

"Say it," he insisted, his grin widening.

"Please," she grumbled, crossing her arms like a pouty child.

"Good girl," he said with a wink, finally handing her the jar.

Sunday snatched it from him, her cheeks warming at the subtle rasp in his voice when he said those two words. She quickly shook off the feeling, determined to stay on her toes. As she hopped down from the barstool, she glanced up at him, her lips quirking into a mischievous smile.

"You know," she began, setting the jar on the counter. "You should really invest in a stepping stool for your house."

Lucifer leaned against the counter again, crossing his arms as he stared down at her. "Mhm, or you could just ask me to grab stuff for you. I like feeling useful, princess."

Sunday rolled her eyes but couldn't hide her grin. "Oh, you love lording your height over me. Admit it."

"Maybe a little," he admitted with a chuckle.

She tilted her head, pretending to think for a moment before her mischievous grin returned. "You should some inches in me then."

Lucifer froze mid-laugh, his expression shifting to one of wide-eyed disbelief. "Huh?"

Sunday's face mirrored his for a split second as she realized what she'd just said. "Huh?" she echoed, her voice slightly higher.

There was a moment of silence before they both burst out laughing, the kind of uncontrollable laughter that made their stomachs ache. Sunday leaned against the counter for support, tears forming in the corners of her eyes as she gasped for breath.

Lucifer shook his head, his deep baritone laugh filling the kitchen. "Nah, mama, what was that? You wanna run that back for me?"

"Nope! Nope, we're not talking about it!" Sunday said quickly, covering her face with her hands.

"Oh, we definitely talkin' about it," he teased, stepping closer to her. "Put some inches in you? For real?"

"It slipped out!" she whined, still laughing. "I didn't mean it like that!"

"Mhm, sure you didn't," he said, his grin absolutely smug.

Sunday peeked at him from between her fingers, her cheeks flushed. "Can we please forget this ever happened?"

"Not a chance," he said, leaning down so they were eye level. "This one's goin' in the memory bank, princess."

Sunday groaned, burying her face in her hands again. "You're the worst."

"And yet, you love me," he quipped, his voice teasing but warm.

"Unfortunately," she muttered, but the smile on her face gave her away.

Lucifer reached out, gently tugging her hands away from her face. "C'mon, don't hide that pretty face from me," he said softly, his tone shifting to something more tender.

She looked up at him, her heart doing a little flip at the way he was looking at her-like she was the only thing in the room that mattered.

"Fine," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "But you owe me for all the teasing."

"Oh yeah? What you want, mama?"

"Hmm," she pretended to think, tapping her chin dramatically. "How about a foot massage?"

Lucifer chuckled, shaking his head. "You wild for that one, but okay. Go sit down, I got you."

Sunday grinned triumphantly as she made her way to the couch, flopping down and stretching her legs out. Lucifer followed, grabbing a pillow to prop up her feet before sitting down beside her.

"I love you," he said as he started massaging her feet.

"And don't you forget it," she replied with a smirk, leaning back against the cushions.

As they sat there, the earlier awkwardness forgotten, Sunday couldn't help but think about how easy it was to be around him. Whether they were teasing each other or sharing quiet moments, being with Lucifer always felt like home.