the shortest distance between two points (is the line from me to you)
“You—I—” Stiles splutters for a second, scrutinizing Derek’s face. He huffs in frustration. “I take it all back. You haven’t changed at all, you’re still acting like a petulant ten-year-old who unleashes his bad mood on others. You know, all Unleash the Derek style.”
“‘Unleash the Derek’?” Derek asks, dubiously.
“Yeah,” Stiles nods, gazing out the window again. “You know, the thing where you dump your bad mood on others, pour your suffocating attitude over everyone around you, twist everything that is said to you into some sort of—insult or whatever. It’s what I used to call it back in high school.”
“Sometimes I get the feeling you were dropped on your head an awful lot as a child,” Derek says appraisingly, eyebrows furrowed.
Stiles snorts. “Yeah, right back at you.”
Derek’s lips quirk in amusement, he arches his eyebrows. “I was, actually. But unlike you I regained full health.”