Laura's bag is by the front door. Derek doesn't notice straight away, sleep-fuzzed and squinty in the bright morning light, grunting a pre-verbal greeting at his sister. He pours a bowl of Cheerios and grabs milk and OJ out of the refrigerator, then perches on a stool and is halfway through his cereal before he notices that Laura is fully dressed and, like, blow-dried, which at seven in the morning is highly uncharacteristic. That's when he notices the bag.
"Coffee?" asks Laura, which again is uncharacteristic, since she has made it patently clear that she is not there to cook and clean for him (patently, jeez, he only wanted lasagne that one time, does that really make him a misogynist?). Derek lets his eyes narrow as he watches her pour out.
"You going somewhere?"
Laura hums an agreement. Derek scowls. He has the most annoying sister in the world.
"And?"
"And what?" Laura asks brightly.
"Where. Are. You. Going?"
"Out of town for a few days," Laura says, like it's no big deal. Here's the thing: it's a big deal, and Derek knows Laura knows it's a big deal, which is probably why this is the first he's hearing about it. Since the fire, since the hunters (Kate), they stick together; Laura and Derek against the world.
"I'm coming too," Derek says, abandoning his coffee and heading for his bedroom. "Ten minutes," he says over his shoulder. He can hear Laura sigh.
"No," she says. She sounds apologetic, but he's pretty sure she's not. "I'm getting a flight out to California. Ticket's already booked. I need you to stay put, Derek, ok?"
Derek doesn't really want to ask. "You're going back?" he says anyway. "To Beacon Hills?"
Laura nods. "Yeah." She's looking at him in that way she does when she's feeling like the Responsible Older Sister/Alpha. "I need to see Peter," she says. "And there's a few loose ends that need tying up. Y'know. From the fire."
Derek does know, and he's pretty sure the only loose end left is finding out who the fuck Kate was. Kate. It always came back to her, and him, and what he'd let her do, and…
"Derek. Derek!" Laura's in his space now, but he can't meet her eyes. "It's going to be ok," she says softly, and Derek hates, he truly hates the way Laura always thinks she has to protect him, and hates even more the way he needs her to be like that. "Look, I'm going to be there three days, tops. I've got a couple of things I need to follow up, and then I'll be straight back. You don't need to worry." She bobs her knees so she can make eye contact, and grins at him. "It's going to be fine," she says again, and steps back.
She's business-like, now, and Derek watches her gather her things together. "Don't forget to go to work," she advises him briskly, because apparently he's twelve, "and, y'know, actually talk to people. With words. And try not to do that constipated-looking brooding thing, because Mrs Sanchez downstairs already thinks you might be a serial killer."
"I do not brood," retorts Derek, offended. Laura just rolls her eyes at him as she slings her bag over one shoulder.
"Whatever, don't make that face." Because Derek is a mature adult, he makes that face, then relaxes into a grin when Laura laughs at him.
"You are such a dork," she says, hugging him with her free arm. "I'll be back soon."
"Call me when you get there," Derek says.
Laura nods, and smiles at him, and heads for the door. "Later, little brother," she says, and then she's gone.
Derek sighs, and returns to his coffee, switching on the TV for the morning news. He tries not to think about Beacon Hills. He never wants to go back there again.
Ever.