Gifts for alenie
“It’s just a weekend,” Derek says, hoping that saying it out loud will ease the tension that makes his shoulders tight and his nape feel stiff, that helps along the way-too-little-sleep headache pulsing behind his left eye. Having to let Stiles out of his sight for days is a challenge for his self-control, instincts telling him to be on high alert, to protect, to not let Stiles leave. Loneliness is already seeping into his bones, reopening the yawning, empty spaces inside of him; it’s not something Derek can dig his fangs into, can slash apart with his claws. Derek’s had a lot of practice in missing people -- Stiles -- but that doesn’t make it any easier.