"I try so hard," Stiles raised his eyebrows as he gasped for air between words, "so fucking hard to make you want me," squinted eyes, and veins pulsing, he accused, "You fuck me, then you don't come around for weeks. And every time we do start to get close, you turn cold again,"
Derek tried for a reply, "Stiles, I-"
"Don't fucking 'Stiles' me, I want an honest answer, "His arms crossed, and tensed. Derek's throat is tight as if words will never come, "Why, Derek. Why do you keep pushing me away?"
The hurt in Stiles' face was more than Derek could handle. He's a tough guy, tough as nails. He's seen his whole family burned in a house fire, he grew up as an orphan, and watched his sister get murdered. After all of that, it's no wonder he's cold. It's no wonder he has abandonment issues, but Stiles doesn't know this. Derek's never dealt with his traumas, let alone talk to someone about them.
Derek's head was bowed, with his usual scowl. It's slightly different this time, though. Anxious and hurt. "It's just hard, Sty," He sighed, "It doesn't matter though, I can handle it."
"Listen, Derek, I may not have known you very long but I do know you. I know that nothing gets to you, and i can see the vulnerability in your eyes," Stiles bit his lip, "you can trust me. You can tell me anything."
Derek shook his head, smirked painfully, and chuckled a bit, "it's not that easy, I can't just fucking open up like that. I can't just peel back my scars and open old wounds, it'll only give me an infection," His eyes darted from Stiles to the floor, back to Stiles, "and i don't want you susceptible to that kind of thing."
Stiles wrapped his fingers around Derek's bulky knuckles, feeling every vein and bone, every wrinkle and pore, "I've got a pretty good immune system."
He grinned at Derek, and his eyes were full of sarcastic love.