I SHALL NEVER GET SICK OF THINKING THESE THOUGHTS
*
“You’ve been drinking my milk,” Jensen says.
Jared’s sat at the kitchen table, eating Cheerios in nothing but his boxers, an open shirt and a pair of socks Jensen’s almost certain are his, with someone’s milk slurping down his chin. He waggles his eyebrows; Jensen’s pretty sure he’s trying to
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LOLing at Jared eating his shirt. You should make a longer they're living together fic. I don't care that it's been ages.
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