There. There it is, the reaction she wants. She lets go immediately, breathing a little shaky, pulse pounding. The way he fought — maybe she should have picked something else. Someone else. She presses her lips together, looks down and away, then back up. “I’m sorry,” she says softly. “I shouldn’t have — I’m sorry. I couldn’t think what — you … ” She straggles off, drags in a deep breath, and finishes, “You should use yours on me, now. Turnabout is fair play.”
He feels the pressure come off of him and he stops crying immediately. His regular emotions return back to his body, a hand straying up to wipe his tears before she gets a chance to look at them too clearly. Stiles wipes his tears from his eyes, frustrated that there’s a wetness on his hands. “I mean, I don’t really see why I have to use it on you. There’s nothing I really want you to do.”
He’s just a little miffed from his emotions being toyed with.
Summer doesn’t try to shield him out again, right now. She deserves his anger, really; only she doesn’t know what else she might have used. She turns out her hands, and says, “I made you do something you didn’t want, so you should get to do the same, that’s all.”