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Summary
Stiles opens his mouth, but doesn't actually say anything. Derek…well, he does look tired, but he always does, that's nothing new. Stiles has always privately thought that the dude needs to get some proper, uninterrupted sleep, maybe, or take up yoga, start meditating-- anything to blur away the pretty much permanent, etched-in shadows under his eyes, to fill out his hollow-looking cheeks, so at odds with the heavily-muscled, carefully-honed rest of him. He just never thought Derek would actually admit to it, much less do anything about it.
