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For the owner of a bookstore and a freelance painter, mornings tended to be exceedingly lazy.
Clary would often make fun of them. She was the teenager, and yet she was up before her parents, already dressed and being productive while they were still making coffee. Luke would ruffle her hair and laugh, never happier to be made fun of.
One cold, winter's morning, Luke was drifting awake from a comfortable sleep. Light was pouring into the master bedroom, a crisp, white light, telling the werewolf it had finally started snowing. Turning his head slightly, he saw Jocelyn sitting at her desk, idly combing out her hair. Her wild wisps of red were a sight to behold in the morning, hence her morning routine.
Jocelyn noticed as her husband shifted in their bed and smiled at him, an easy, genuine smile that came without thinking. She gazed at him, lying just a few feet away, and wondered how she could ever have denied her love for him for all these years. Last night, however, Luke had gone to bed shirtless, a sight Jocelyn had just about gotten used to, but would never get over. His head of thick brown hair was pushed back and she could still see the bold strands of grey, even from where she was sitting. She adored every sign of his age, it reminded her of how long they'd known each other.
Luke sat up, squinting slightly because of the light. "Come back to bed." He sighed, holding out a hand to her, wanting nothing more then to just lie awake with her, warm and safe in their room.
Jocelyn was thinking for a reason to protest before she realized there was no reason, really. She knew that Clary had already gone out for breakfast with Jace and a few others and wouldn't be home until late that night. It was Saturday, and they had nothing planned; nothing to get out of bed for.
She put down the brush and got up from her seat. Luke pulled her into his arms as she slid back into bed, determined to warm her back up, she tended to get cold easily.
Jocelyn hummed her appreciation, pulling him as close as she could and kissing him just at the crook of his neck. He'd told her once, during his recovery of being stabbed with demonic metal, that he wasn't used to her loving him. She hadn't been either, admittedly, but it felt natural. This all felt natural, lying with him, kissing him, loving him, worrying, being protective, being married, it all felt right. Before, when they had hidden truths, from Clary and each other, that was what had felt wrong.
But they didn’t need to think about any of that anymore. Especially not when Luke was kissing her like this.
He'd started by kissing her hair and traveling down to her nose, her lips, her neck. He'd eventually made it to her clavicle and ended up lying on top of her, arms around her middle, head resting on her chest. He could hear her heartbeat, so it was one of his favorite places to be. Her fingers were in his hair, her toes cold against his.
"I love you." Luke said, his breath hot against her skin. He sounded like he was nearly asleep again.
"I love you, too." Jocelyn mirrored, her fingers pleasantly pressing into the back of his neck.
"I used to think about saying that to you." Luke said, the grumble in his low voice slowly going away the more he spoke. "I used to dream about telling you just how much you meant to me."
Jocelyn kept quiet, feeling a small pang of guilt, even after everything. He'd told her countless times that the past was in the past and to stop blaming herself for things that weren't her fault--
And at that, her thoughts were silenced, replaced with the feeling of her husband pulling himself up. He leaned down and captured her lips in his, and she wondered how he'd gotten so good at kissing.
She pulled him closer and bent a knee, keeping him there, trapping him in her embrace. She wanted to tell him how happy she was that neither of them had to hold back anymore, but he already knew, they were already celebrating their freedom together in lazy kisses and muffled sighs. Her eyes were closed, and as much as she loved the feeling of Luke pressed so close to her, she longed to see his bright smile. Every morning, she was greeted with it, wide and honest, his eyes filled with nothing but love.
For hours it seemed, they continued like this, tangled together, shielded from the cold, though completely open to one another. In moments like these, everything in their lives seemed far away, everything that had happened, everything that will happen. It was mundane, it was simple, and it was love, so it was all they needed