Derek snaps his fingers and glares into Stiles' eyes. “You say you're not the same, but – there you fucking go, acting just like yourself.”
Stiles bristles. “Oh, right. Because you know me so fucking well, don't you?”
“Better than you seem to think,” he mutters under his breath in response, and Stiles gets even more incensed.
“Pushing me up against walls, shoving my head into steering wheels,” he shrugs his shoulders, glares, “some real heart to hearts we've had!”
“Holding me up in eight feet of water when I was paralyzed, nearly cutting my arm off for me to save my life. Doesn't seem so fucking shallow to me, Stiles.”













