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“He trusts you.”
He choked out a laugh because he thought he’d shut his window and he was positive he was home alone. Stiles kept his arm over his eyes and said as much, then felt the bed dip slightly beside him. He took a shallow breath then continued, “My dad is interviewing Deaton and Scott, trying to find out who would kidnap the vet and how Scott knew where to look. You know, without telling him about the whole werewolf thing. In case you were wondering.”
“He trusts you,” Cora repeated, more firmly. Like she couldn’t wrap her head around those three words. Stiles sighed and sat up, wiped his face with his hands then looked expectantly at her. She wasn’t what he expected, or what he expected the dead sister (that he knew nothing about, by the way, so, ouch) of his frienemy-sometimes-cuddle-buddy-and-late-night-confidante-but-usually-sass-partner to be like. Or look like. Seriously, Hale genes - and cheek bones - were hella strong.
“Yeah, well, we’ve been through a lot.” He opened his mouth, ready to tell her exactly what she’d missed then promptly shut it. He wasn’t sure how much Derek had told her of the past year; hell, he wasn’t sure how much he wanted to tell her.
“You don’t get it,” Cora growled and she stood then paced the length of his bed. “You’re human. You touched him and he didn’t flinch. You’re human and he had just killed his beta. You’re. Human.” She rounded on him, one fist bunched at her side and pointing a finger at him with the other, “He should have killed you.”
Stiles let that sink in and pushed himself to the edge of the bed, he looked up at her and raised his shoulders slightly then let them fall. “What can I say? I defy werewolf expectation.”
Cora shook her head, disbelief and annoyance clear. She stepped closer, took his face in her hands and tilted it up until his eyes met hers. Her eyes glowed yellow and Stiles purposely kept his breathing calm. “He had just fought an alpha. He killed his pack. I couldn’t have touched him, you shouldn’t have been able to.”
Stiles pulled free then stood, took her wrists in his hands and squeezed. It was the act, not the strength, that spoke and he knew it. He watched something rise in her eyes and knew she knew it as well.
“You don’t know me and you don’t know Derek, so don’t put your wolfy rules on us,” he tightened his hold until he felt the bones in his fingers slide over the bones of her wrists, “and don’t put some crappy expectation on the human who has saved more werewolves in this town than you have, on the human who has risked his life more times for your brother than he can count.”
He let her go, stalked to the window and waved his hand in front of him; a clear invitation for her to leave. Cora raked her eyes down his body then back up and it took all of his willpower not to flinch back or cover himself. Then she smiled, cocked her head to the side and walked over to him, and Stiles kept his eyes on hers.
She laid a light hand on his chest, directly over his heart and smirked. “I can hear your heartbeat, Stiles. You’re scared,” the smile dropped, “or stupid.”
“A ... a little of both,” he swung his arm slightly to the side and rolled his head, “Well, a lot of one and a little of the other.”
Cora shook her head and stepped closer, kissed his jaw, then stood on her toes and angled her head to the side. She rested one hand on his hip, let her fingers brush over his skin, and kept the other flat over his heart. “If you hurt him,” she whispered, “I’ll rip you apart. Piece by piece.”
Stiles swallowed, wanted to step back. Instead he looked down at her, one hand still held the window open and with his other he purposely pulled her hand from waist and dropped it. Did the same with the hand on his chest. “The same thing goes for you. Hurt him, or Scott or Isaac, and you’ll need more than werewolf healing to survive it. I don’t trust werewolves who come out of nowhere; family or not.”
“Big words, Human.”
“I watched a friend die tonight,” he thought back to Boyd’s body, to Derek’s shock, “I won’t do it again. Now, leave.”
Cora stepped back and shook her head slowly, and Stiles wondered if he was about to die. She lifted her hand towards him, then dropped it and climbed out the window. She landed softly and turned, saluted him, before sauntering into the shadows.
He closed his eyes and pulled back, pulled the window shut and locked it. Cora Hale just made it to the top of his Darach list, and just beat out Peter as the last likely Hale he would trust.