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She waited until after he’d called Scott; watching him fidget with a loose string on his shirt then with a crack in the loft step while they spoke. It wasn’t until after he’d hung up and stared at Derek’s loft that she asked, “And how do you think talking to Derek will go?”
Stiles flicked her a glance and stood, then rolled his shoulders, “I don’t know. Not well?” He turned away, then back. “Really not well? I’m thinking claws will come into play.”
“Or teeth,” she nodded with a grin, baring her own at him. She liked when his breath caught like that; like he felt the need for a response but he wasn’t afraid. She leaned back on her elbows and looked up at him, tapped her feet in a steady beat against the air. She liked watching him.
“We already did the teeth one,” he ticked a finger then another, “And the whole shoving into walls. Not,” he raised his hand and pointed at her, “a purely werewolf threat, by the way.”
“No,” Cora agreed slowly. “Who--”
“We’ve done head-to-steering-wheel. Not fun,” he continued over her, raising a third finger.
“But deserved?” she cut in then stood and walked around him, dragging her fingers over the base of his skull. Pleased, when he didn’t flinch. She finished her circle around him then looked up, waiting.
“Depends,” he cleared his throat and smiled, “Depends on whose story you believe.”
“Interesting.” She took a step backwards and filed that line of questioning for later. Right now she wanted to see all of him; see his fingertips and eyes, see where his tells came. Right now, she had bigger concerns. “Stiles, why do you care about what happens to my brother?”
“I told you.”
She stopped him and tilted her head to the side, watching. “You gave Peter and me a list of crappy things that have happened recently in Beacon Hills but nothing that was Derek-specific.”
Stiles twisted his mouth and crossed his arms, dropped them to his side, then crossed them again. His beartbeat sped faster momentarily, then slowed when he glared at her. “Maybe I feel for the guy.”
Cora nodded and stepped towards him; when Stiles took a step back she took the bait and stepped forward. “Maybe.”
“Maybe I get his whole guilt complex.”
Another step forward, another back.
“Maybe.”
Stiles took another step back, then froze when the backs of his thighs hit the table and Cora dropped her hands on either side of him. His pupils dilated, his pulse quickened, and she waited. He sighed and relaxed against the edge of the table, but he picked at his thumbnail and avoided looking at her which only made her want to press him more.
“Maybe because it sounds like the guy has never had someone he could count on. You know, without expecting something or trying to double-cross him.”
“He has family.”
“What?” Stiles looked up and dropped his hands onto the table, fisting them. “A sociopathic uncle and an absentee sister?”
She ignored the jab with a slight nod; now wasn’t that time for that conversation. “And you.”
“And Scott. And Isaac,” Stiles rolled his eyes. She took his hand and felt the sense of security settle around her when he opened his mouth, shut it, then obediently followed. It had been a long time since she trusted a human - a long time since one had trusted her - and she desperately wanted to trust this one.
“Okay,” Stiles laughed weakly and glanced from her to the bed then back, “Not that I’m not one hundred percent o--”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” Cora snorted. She turned them so she could push him back, perhaps using slightly more force than necessary, and watched him bounce on the bed. “This’ll help.”
“What? Finding us in his bed?” Interestingly, his heartbeat stuttered over the final word and the room felt hotter as he crawled backwards.
“Scents, sense.” She answered and crawled towards him, slithered against him until her back was flush against his chest and stomach. Then bit her cheek when he swallowed audibly and froze in place. A girl had to have some pleasure, she thought. “I’m not saying it will but this might help. For when he comes back.”
He lay his head on Derek’s pillow, sputtered and pushed Cora’s hair from his face. “Or he could get super creeped out that his sister and the kid he barely stands slept in his bed.”
Cora rolled over and looked Stiles in the eye. She wanted to say, This is so important, but saw the fear and denial already creeping into his eyes. Instead she nodded, “If you’re right and Peter made a point of lying to you, Derek must trust you and Peter must know that otherwise he would have saved that lie for someone else. Us being here, our scents and our feelings of fa...trust, will make it easier for him.”
Stiles frowned, his eyebrows furrowing, “How?”
“It’s a werewolf thing,” she touched a hand to his chest, “It’s family, pack, security.” She fisted her hand in his shirt. “I can’t explain it. It just is. And it will help.”
Stiles stared at her, then nodded and slid his arm under her waist. He mumbled something, twisted, then whispered, “Fine. But roll over, I don’t want your creepy werewolf eyes glowing at me while I sleep.”
“All the better to see you with,” she grinned and bumped her nose against his, then rolled back so her back was once again to his chest.
“He’ll come back,” she whispered, not sure if it was for his benefit or hers; but when he tightened his hold around her waist, she relaxed against him and slept in the scent of her brother and their human.