Here's a Joceluke one-shot because there are hardly read and review

Disclaimer: All characters belong to one Cassandra Clare and not me.

Luke paced his bedroom, mind darting back and forth even faster than his feet. He hated this, despised it. He couldn't get the issue out of his head. It was eating away at him. He couldn't sleep, couldn't focus. Even Clary had noticed he wasn't himself, and she wasn't particularly perceptive of his feelings.

Lucian Graymark couldn't deny it anymore. He had heard Jocelyn talking to Clary when he was coming in. He shouldn't have eavesdropped. He didn't, not on purpose, but he couldn't stop listening.

"-I know you like him, Mom. I get that. So why don't you tell him?" Clary's voice was loud.

Jocelyn shushed her. "You're too loud. I-yes, you're right. I do love him, Clary. But that doesn't mean I can just tell him."

Luke could almost hear Clary's eye roll. "Why not?"

"Because.." Jocelyn dropped to a whisper. "He could never love me back."

"Honestly? Why do you think he's stayed for so long-" There was a bang from upstairs and he heard Clary's over exaggerated sigh. "Mothers these days…"

Luke shook his head. Jocelyn loved someone. Understandable of course, but it was eating away at him not knowing who it was. All week he'd been contemplating whether or not he should ask Clary. It wasn't exactly something he could just insert into a normal conversation. He could totally see it now, 'Hi Clary, how was your day? Hey, could you by any chance tell me who you and your mother were talking about on Thursday?' Somehow he figured Clary wouldn't take well to that. And he had no doubt that she'd go laughing all the way to Jocelyn and tell her and they would both laugh and tell him all about the guy Jocelyn loves.

Okay, so maybe that wouldn't happen exactly, but that didn't mean he wasn't hesitant to ask. He was startled from his thoughts when a figure burst into the room. There was Clary, her hair flying behind her, a red rivalled only by her current anger. Pausing in his pacing, Luke sighed and sat down on the edge of his bed.

"What's the problem, Clary?" He asked gently, knowing her anger wouldn't be directed towards him if he was calm.

She groaned and threw herself onto her stomach on the bed next to him. "Everything." Luke had to try very hard not to roll his eyes. Had he really sounded that ridiculous as a teen? He could only hope not.

"Ah. And what particular bit of this 'everything' might be bothering you?" he queried, unable to keep the light teasing tone out of his voice.

Clary groaned again. "Mom.."

He tensed; she had his full attention now. "..Oh?" Despite his attempt to sound casual, he knew he had failed when he saw the expression on her face.

"Yes, 'oh'. She's driving me crazy with this nonsense about the guy she likes not liking her back. Honestly, it's not like he could be any more obvious.." She rolled her eyes, obviously disturbed by the thought of her mother having lovers.

He inwardly chuckled at her childishness. Then he realized what she had said. It was now or never. "Clary, I want an honest answer here. Who is it that your mother li-"

He was cut off by none other than Jocelyn herself. She took in the scene, Clary slumped and his rather guilty, deer-in-the-headlights expression and shook her head. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything, but dinner's ready."

Luke cursed under his breath. He had finally plucked the courage to ask and then of course he was stopped by her. Naturally. He honestly had the worst luck when it came to timing.

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"Goodnight Clary, Jocelyn." He said as the two made their way to the guest rooms which were basically theirs now. He sunk into the old sofa, not paying any mind to the old reruns on the TV.

"Night," Clary threw over her shoulder. Jocelyn smiled sweetly at him before heading down the hall.

He punched the pillow beside him in frustration at his rapid heartbeat. Even after all these years, she had the same effect on him. Curling up in a ball somewhere between two and three am, Luke fell asleep shivering with the drafts customary to the living room.

As his eyelids flickered closed, he just remembered seeing an angel standing over him, covering him with a blanket. The angel had red hair.

XxXxXx

Luke awoke to the heavenly aroma of chocolate chip pancakes and bacon. Groggily he awoke, yawning and stretching from his little ball on the couch. Wait..why wasn't he freezing?

It was then he remembered his strange dream from the night before and realized that it hadn't been a dream at all. He was halfway into the kitchen when he realized he didn't have a shirt to feel even more self-conscious in front of her.

She spoke without turning around. "Good morning Luke."

He cleared his throat, still groggy with sleep. "Morning sunshine." He immediately went red. What was he saying? And...was that a blush on her cheeks?

"You seem to be in a good mood," she said with a smile evident in her voice. She turned to face him fully and he realized that she was blushing.

"Only because I didn't freeze on the couch last night." His statement was teasing but his tone was grateful.

Her dazzling smile left him weak at the knees. "Well I couldn't sleep and you seemed cold," she dismissed his thanks with an airy gesture.

Clary walked into the kitchen yawning, her sweatpants and messy bun evidence that she just woke up. "Morning," she said amidst a stretch.

Rolling his eyes at her, Luke ruffled her hair affectionately. "Morning. I like that bedhead. It's a good look for you."

It was her turn to roll her eyes while Jocelyn giggled. Luke felt the all-too familiar smile on his lips that only she could put there. Clary slumped down at the table.

"What's for breakfast?"

XxXxXxXxXx

It was later that day when Luke decided to do the unthinkable. He decided to ask Jocelyn who she had been talking about. Not directly, of course. He was going to use his inept people skills to worm it out of her. Er, at least, that was his plan.. Perhaps he should rethink this..Luke shook his head. He had committed to going through with this.

Clary had left for Simon's about a half hour ago and Jocelyn was in the kitchen cleaning up from lunch.

"Er..Jocelyn?" He heard the water shut off as he walked in.

"Yes Luke?"

"Well. I um, wanted to talk to you about something.." he trailed off as he absentmindedly grabbed the dish towel and dried the plates handed to him.

She gave him no more than a minute before she questioned him. "Well? What did you want to ask me?" Her tone was soft and slightly amused, hands on her slender hips.

Luke ran a hand through his prematurely graying hair. "Right. I was just wondering if..you had a particular dream guy. I mean-" he paused and then continued with a sudden thought, "I was just reading a magazine and it said that all women have an ideal dream guy. I wanted to see if the article was true."

She covered her mouth with dainty fingers. "So let me get this straight. One. You're reading a magazine on what girls like?" She paused to giggle, then continued, "and two you're testing it on me?"

Luke's face was impossibly red. "Erm, yes I suppose I am."

With another giggle, she stepped forward to look up at him. "Hmm. I think I like guys that are tall and ruggedly built but not too brawny. They have to have a smart side. They need to be caring, supportive, and have undeniable wit and charm. He should be brave enough to look after me but also know I can fend for myself. He should appreciate Clary and be willing to treat her like she was his own."

Luke blinked. He was some of that, sure, but much of it was unattainable. Jocelyn wasn't finished yet. "My ideal guy would be someone who isn't perfect. Someone who's made mistakes and can accept the ones I make too."

If Luke hadn't been a werewolf, he wouldn't have heard a whispery mumble. "What was that last bit?"

She sighed and looked down at her feet. "I said, my ideal guy is someone like...you." ….What? It felt like his brain was in a thick fog bank. He stood staring with his mouth open, gaping.

"I….you..me...we..wha-"

The rest of his jumbled and incoherent speech was cut off by a pair of lips, a pair he had been dreaming of for so long. He was startled from his fog bank and found clarity in those lips, the lips of his red haired angel.

They moved in unison with eyes closed and mouths desperate. It wasn't messy, just frenzied but soft at the same time. They moved in sync as if in perfect clockwork. His heart raced and he decided right then and there that if this was another dream then he was never waking up.

It was only when they pulled away for air that he remembered what she had said that got them to the kiss. He figured he should confess too.

"Jocelyn?"

She nodded at him, cheeks flushed, chest rising and falling rapidly.

"I suppose I should tell you. There was no magazine."

She looked at him for a moment, and then burst into a peal of laughter. She stopped and pecked him both cheeks. Looking him straight in the eye, she said solemnly, "I know."

fin.

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