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Sam has no words when he first walks into the kitchen.
Lucifer’s standing at the stove, clad in nothing more than ragged cutoffs and pristine white sneakers, stirring something red and tomato-y in a pot and drumming his free fingers on the stovetop. His left foot taps on the floor occasionally; clearly, he’s gotten a new song stuck in his head. The few strands of his hair long enough to tuck away are tucked away behind his ears or brushed out of his forehead, and his chest and stomach are splattered in red.
He looks up when Sam comes in, eyes expectant and full of achieving pride. Sam can’t help laughing out loud; Lucifer looks ridiculous.
“Luce, what’re you doing?” he asks, smiling. Lucifer sets the spoon into the pot, tilts his head, and runs a hand through his hair.
“Lasagna,” he says as way of explanation. “Don’t you smell it?”
“Not really,” Sam admits, grinning. “It smells more like… well, just tomatoes, to be honest. Look, I’ll help you.”
And with that, he takes his place beside Lucifer and gently takes the spoon back out of the blonde’s hand. Surprise registers on Lucifer’s face as Sam places the lid on the pot and turns the stove off.
“I thought Lasagna was cooked food,” he complains. Sam nods.
“It is,” he explains gently. Lucifer’s looking more and more confused by the second, so Sam carefully pushes him aside and digs a packet of noodle sheets from the cupboard. He opens it, puts another pot on the stove, fills it with water, and places the noodles into the pot. Then he heats the pot, and turns to face Lucifer again.
“You have to cook the noodles, too. The meat goes on afterward.”
Lucifer nods and leans against the counter, watching Sam stir and occasionally prod the noodles to test how well-cooked they are. Finally, Sam turns the stove off, divides the noodle sheets between two plates, and spoons tomato sauce onto them. He takes a packet of ground beef from the cupboard, empties the packet into the pot he used for the noodles, and patiently lets it fry to a pale brown. Lucifer looks fascinated by his every move.
“Okay, see? Now you put the meat on, like this. In layers,” Sam continues and follows through on his own words. “And some people put special sauce on their lasagna, but I’ll just leave it. It tastes better like this.”
When he’s finished, he tops the final layer of meat with more tomato sauce and another noodle, and hands Lucifer the plate. The blonde accepts it, sits at the table, and experimentally nibbles a corner he’s cut with his fork. For a while, he simply sits and eats, taking his time, and by the time he’s finished half of his meal, he looks up at Sam and sets his fork down.
“This is rather good, Sam,” he praises. Sam smiles warmly.
“Lucifer?” he asks after several moments of comfortable silence. Lucifer glances up.
“Why’re you almost naked?” Sam asks and raises and eyebrow. “You don’t have to, you know, stand around me in booty shorts, sweetheart. I know full well that you’re attractive.”
Lucifer glowers, his eyes burning with offended malice, and Sam laughs and sits beside him, and kisses his cheek.
“I was hot, Sam,” Lucifer whines and folds his arms across his chest. “I can’t always be freezing.”
“You’re still hot,” Sam replies, grinning. “And if you want, we’ll improve your cooking skills, too, so that way you’ll literally be the perfect home-grown man. Mkay?”
Lucifer’s face brightens. “Sounds like a plan.”