Nick's POV
Humming contently Nick ran his fingers down the soft slope of Stiles' arm, the teen mumbling in his sleep before snuggling deeper into Nick's chest, head tucked perfectly into the space underneath the Warlock's chin. The teen was tired, and honestly Nick couldn't blame him, he had pulled out all the tricks he'd learned over the years to keep Stiles moaning and writhing underneath his touch. Every little gasp and shudder he pulled from those lips, even the stinging pleasure of Stiles' nails clawing deep lines down the lean muscles of Nick's back was a victory. A victory made even sweeter with the knowledge that he was Stiles' first.
Glancing at the digital clock on his bedside table Nick decided to get up and shower quickly before starting on making Stiles a late dinner, the time was pushing close to 8 pm and Nick had no doubt that his boy would be hungry once he woke up from his post-coital nap.
Grabbing a fresh pair of underwear and pants Nick headed into the bathroom grinning like a cat who caught the canary.
~#~#~#~#~ Derek's POV
He was wallowing.
Wallowing in self-pity with a bottle of specially laced bourbon in hand and his face smushed into the pillows of his sofa where nobody could see him cry. Oh god, Laura was probably laughing at him now from whatever afterlife she was in, he could hear her in his head already with her annoying 'I'm right and you fucked up' tone of voice and an insult that made no sense like;
"Derek Stuart Hale, you absolute, no good emotionally stunted cabbage patch kid!"
Oh, wow, that was actually really realistic. Lifting his head Derek squinted in confusion at the blurry figure lounging on his wall like an old friend. "Laurs?" the Alpha slurred blinking a few times to make the picture in front of his eyes stop swimming, it worked, at least a little bit, familiar green eyes and black hair solidifying with a snap.
"Holy shit I'm drunk" Derek mumbled glancing down at the bottle still clutched between his fingers accusingly, he should have known better than to trust anything Peter bought him it was probably poisoned.
"Yeah, you're drunk and you fucked up big time baby bro"
Whining low in his throat Derek buried his face back into the safe suffocating confines of the sofa, desperate to escape the judgment. "Go away, Laura".
A loud snort followed his words accompanied by a snappy retort "yeah, I would like to trust me because seeing you wallow like a sad little 14-year-old girl who got her heart broken by Justin Bieber is giving me ghost-hives. But I can't, because the Nemeton dragged my ass all the way back from the afterlife to give you a good old bitch slap".
It took a while for the words to sink into Derek's brain, like a solid mass trying to move through thick treacle, but it happened and Derek dragged himself up into sitting position to scowl at the apparition "why would the Nemeton bring you back?". Rolling her eyes Laura pushed herself forward and cocked her eyebrow "well believe it or not it isn't because you're running your love life like a bad romantic comedy with a low budget and a shitty script".
Groaning Derek hit his head against the back of the sofa "nice to know being dead hasn't stopped you from being a total bitch".
"Nice to see me being dead hasn't stopped you from being a total nerd, now get up go shower and have some coffee, I need you sober to talk and I have a limited time frame before I'm tugged back" Laura clapped her hands in a chop-chop motion. Derek groaned again, this time louder before deciding it was probably best to listen to his sister, even if she did turn out to be an alcohol-induced hallucination, she was right about him needing to sober up.
He needed to call Stiles and apologize. Again.
-time skip-
To say Derek was surprised to see the apparition of his dead older sister still hanging about after his shower was an understatement. Gripping the wrought metal staircase which lead up towards the second level of the loft, Derek blew out a long shuddering breath as he spotted Laura perched on the kitchen counter her legs swinging back and forth, phasing in and out of the cupboards like it was nothing.
"I was really really hoping you wouldn't still be here when I got back" the Alpha admitted somewhat shamefully as his sister just grinned. "Damn Derek, what took you so long? Were you cutting each individual chest hair with a pair of nail scissors?". Biting his tongue Derek descended the stairs keeping a firm and weary eye on his sister as he approached. Maintaining a cautious distance between himself and the specter Derek began to make himself a strong cup of black coffee, the sound of the machine bubbling filling in the silence.
After pouring himself out a large mug Derek walked back into the living room area and slumped back down onto the sofa. Lifting the rim of the cup to his lips he took a large swig, ignoring the sharp pain as the boiling liquid burnt his mouth and throat raw for a few seconds before his healing started to kick in. Pressing a palm to his forehead Derek glanced at his sister through the corner of his eye and grunted rudely.
"Alright, so why did the Nemeton bring you back to talk to me?"
Jumping down from the counter with a huff Laura made her way towards one of the armchairs closest to where Derek sat. "Simple, because it's scared," she said shrugging nonchalantly as she sat down. Eyebrows springing upwards in disbelief Derek curled his lip "an ancient magical tree is scared?".
Rolling her eyes Laura crossed her arms "when you put it like that it sounds dumb Der-bear, but it's the truth. Although I wouldn't exactly say the tree itself is scared because the tree is just a physical representation of magic itself".
"So magic is scared?" Derek amended with the same amount of skepticism in his tone and facial expression causing Laura to glare at him in exasperation. "Magic is all about balance Derek, and in order to prevent anything from tipping the scales too far in one direction, there are measured in place. Unfortunately for you, the best thing the Nemeton could come up with was to force-project my ass like some Obi-wan rip-off to your twunk Luke Skywalker".
Blinking furiously Derek chugged more of his coffee, his brain still nowhere ready on any level to deal with his sister's weird language whilst he was still trying to sober himself up.
"Please stop talking like this, you're giving me a headache"
Folding her legs up onto the chair buddha style Laura ignored Derek's petulant moaning and continued talking. "You have a headache cause you chugged the werewolf equivalent of rubbing alcohol now quit whining like a baby and let me warn you of your fate like a good ghost of Christmas future. And I'm only going to say this once, so listen carefully; Something big is going to go down on Saturday night and you and your pack need to stop it, because if you don't… then you're all going to lose Stiles, and a lot of innocent people are going to die".
Lurching upwards at the mention of Stiles, Derek just avoided spilling the coffee all over himself as he demanded answers from the now somber looking ghost. "Is this to do with the Warlock? It is, isn't it? Fuck! I told Deaton! I told him that Stiles should know he was in danger! What's going to happen on Saturday? Laura, you need to tell me everything you know, right now!".
Shrugging helplessly Laura frowned "I'm sorry Derek, that's all I know" looking down she sighed softly as her body started to flicker like an out of tune television. "I've already been here too long…". Throwing his coffee to the side carelessly Derek propelled himself off of the sofa, falling onto his knees in front of the armchair Laura sat in as his hands swiped uselessly through his sister's translucent body, desperately trying to cling onto the phantom which continued to fade more and more before his eyes.
"Laura! Laura stay please!"
Laura smiled sadly "I'm proud of you Der-bear. We all are, please remember that".
Shoulders slumped in defeat Derek watched as his big sister flickered out of existence once more, tears cascading down his cheeks and left only with the stench of strong coffee permeating the air from the shattered remains of his cup scattered across the hardwood floor.