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Summary
It’s then that it happens—the cross swings down, off Jean’s chest, and comes to rest in the hollow of Jeremy’s throat. Jeremy makes a small sound at the contact, so small he’s not sure he didn’t hallucinate it, but Jean pulls back immediately.
“Sorry,” Jean says. He pushes up to his knees, reaches around his neck to take it off. Jeremy fists a hand in the thigh of his sweats, and tugs a little insistently.
“Leave it.”