A/N: i rewrote this about three times and this is the version i liked the most. i hope you like it too xoxo
p.s.: i know nothing about flowers so if you do and feel like i committed a terrible crime please let me know!
Stiles is going to cry.
He is going to curl up on the floor and rock himself back and forth as snot and tears runs down his face while all of his friends stare at him.
He's going to break and sob and make a total fucking mess of himself and he doesn't even give a fuck.
And it's all Derek's fault.
Stiles is currently sitting on his favorite place in the entire world.
Derek's dick.
But he's not really enjoying it, and not because of the jizz currently leaking out of him and running down his balls.
He kind of likes that part.
And it's also not because the sex wasn't fucking mind-blowing and dirty and made him think he came his brains out through his dick, it's just that he has a lot on his mind. A lot on his mind that takes his focus away from Derek's dick softening inside of him to other things.
Non-dick related things.
Sad things.
Like the anniversary of his mother's death.
"You've been quiet lately," Derek mumbles, one of his hands currently stroking Stiles' right ass cheek as the other rests on the back of his neck. "You didn't even ask me if you could finish off on my face this time."
Stiles takes a minute to be sad about that, too.
Because he absolutely loves getting to coat any part of Derek's body with his come, watching it as it slides down his chin or neck or past his balls or down his back or from between his legs.
Marking him.
And it's a testament to how much this is affecting him that he passed the opportunity to do just that, making Derek his, even more so than he already is.
"I'm sorry not all of us can be your fucking brand of sunshine every day," Stiles says dryly, because apparently he's an asshole like that. "Really, you should try smiling less. People can't handle all the joy coming from you; it makes them feel depressed about their lives."
Derek doesn't say anything for a few minutes, his hand moving down so the tip of his fingers brush against Stiles' stretched hole and his own dick.
"You know that if you don't tell me what's wrong I'll just sic Laura on you, right?" Derek asks him.
"You wouldn't dare," Stiles gasps, looking up at Derek in horror.
As much as Stiles loved Laura, she is a fucking bitch.
Like Lydia levels of bitch.
Because they are friends and apparently have taken upon themselves to make Stiles' life a living hell.
So of course that Derek, his beautiful-loving-hot-piece-of-ass of a boyfriend who's currently feeling his own dick up Stiles' ass wouldn't fucking dare.
Except for the fact that Derek takes his hand away to remove Stiles from his favorite place in the entire world - Derek's dick - to the cold side of the bed, and Derek suddenly has his phone in hand and is going through his contacts list and just twitching his eyebrows at Stiles in a way that screams, oh, I would.
Stiles sometimes thinks he hates Derek's eyebrows as much as he loves Derek's ass.
And that's a lot.
"I don't think I like you anymore," Stiles says, scowling at Derek.
"That's not what you were saying when my cock was up your ass thirty seconds ago," Derek says flatly, staring at him. "Or when I was rimming you open. Or when you had my dick in your mouth and I was coming down your throat."
Stiles just purse his lips together, because he will not let Derek know how much his words affect him.
The way his dick obviously twitches between them is another story, though.
Not that Derek pays any attention to that, shifting on the bed until he can get a hand on the back of Stiles' neck and pull him closer.
Stiles tries to resist at first, his entire body tense as Derek maneuvers him into position, him lying on his back with Stiles' head against his chest, his arm thrown over Stiles' shoulder as Stiles gets a leg between his.
"Tell me what's wrong," Derek says quietly, breath ghosting over the top of Stiles' head.
"I just," Stiles swallows hard, because no matter how many times he has to do this, it never gets easier. "You know about my mom."
Stiles knows Derek knows about his mom, because he was the one who told him about her on a faithful night involving tequila and lots of puking him guts out in the bathroom while Derek stroke his back.
Kind of like his mom used to do when he was little and sick.
Hence the telling Derek all about how she was sick for a long time and how he misses the fuck out of her.
"Yeah," Derek breathes out, his grip on Stiles tightening.
"The anniversary," Stiles forces himself to say. "It's in a couple of weeks."
"You going to spend it with your dad?" Derek asks, his fingers tracing random patters against the skin of Stiles' arm.
"You going to spend it with your dad?" Derek asks, his fingers tracing random patters against the skin of Stiles' arm.
And this is why Stiles likes Derek so much.
Because he gets him.
"I want to," Stiles mumbles. "But I don't have the time with classes and work and just- I don't like leaving him alone to deal with this," Stiles takes a deep breath before continuing. "I don't like being alone to deal with this."
"You're not alone," Derek tells him, turning them on the bed so they're lying side by side and Derek can get a hand on Stiles' cheek. "You have me. You have me and Laura and Lydia and Scott. Erica, Boyd, Isaac. I think you might even have Jackson for this one."
Stiles snorts at that, because as much as him and Jackson have grown up since high school, they still kind of hate each other.
And there's also the fact that Stiles now knows a lot more than he's comfortable with about his and Lydia's sex life.
Stiles is still trying to unhear that Jackson looks good in lacy blue panties.
He has not been successful so far.
"It's just," Stiles tries again. "I've always been there, you know. I always managed to come back and spend some time with my dad and leave her flowers, and this year I won't be able to."
"What kind of flowers?" Derek asks, thumb tracing Stiles' lower lip.
"Nightblooming cereus," Stiles says promptly, lips twitching up when Derek just blinks at him. "Mom used to call them night princesses, because they only bloom at night."
Stiles shuffles closer to Derek, tucking his head under Derek's chin as he starts to remember.
"Dad was the one that found them," Stiles tells him. "Mom and I were in the kitchen. I was helping her make dinner when he walked in and said something about some weird flowers growing beside the house, and asking her if she had anything to do with it," Stiles smiles a little at that, the imagines of his mom making a face at his dad when he said that running through his mind. "She took me by the hand and the three of us went out so dad could show her where they were, and I remember how excited she got when she saw them."
Derek throws a leg over Stiles' hip when his voice cracks, the hand on Stiles' cheek moving to rub wide circles across his naked back.
"She made dad pick up some chairs and tell him to order pizza because we weren't going to be moving for a while," Stiles keeps going, swallowing around the lump in his throat. "I didn't really know what we were doing but I knew it must have been something fun because I got to eat pizza for dinner, and that almost never happened. And when dad came back with the chairs, she picked me up and sat me on her lap and told me that we were going to get to see something beautiful," Stiles voice weavers, but he can't help the small laugh he lets out as he recounts the next part. "I remember being confused and frowning at her and telling her that I already was seeing something beautiful, because I had the prettiest mom in the world."
Stiles can feel Derek's smile against his forehead as he says that, and he can't help but smile a little bit back.
"Dad let me have an extra pizza slice for that one," Stiles sighs, suddenly missing his dad a lot more than he was before. "She explained to me that these types of flowers only bloomed at night, some of them even going as far as only blooming one single night once a year, and that we were really lucky to catch it just as it was it happening," Stiles licks his lips, pulling back so he can stare at Derek in the eye again. "It became sort of a thing for us, even more so after she died. Those flowers; they're short lived, just like mom was."
Derek doesn't say anything for a few seconds, and when he opens his mouth is not to say he's sorry or that he understands, but to ask, "Can you show me a picture of them? The flowers?"
Stiles nods, turning so he can grab his phone by the nightstand and showing Derek the best images he finds on the internet.
"They're pretty," Derek tells him, eyes glued to the screen.
"Mom was prettier," Stiles mumbles, smiling against Derek's lip when he tilts his head down to kiss him.
"You still have us, okay?" Derek says against Stiles' lips, rubbing their noses together. "I know we're not your dad and it's going to suck not having him around, but you have us."
"I know," Stiles kisses the corner of his mouth. "I know."
"You're depressing the clients," Laura says as she flops down next to him on the leather couch.
Stiles only grunts at her, going back to playing on his phone as he waits for Derek to finish up with his client.
"You're depressing me," Erica informs him as she sits on his other side, plucking his phone from his hands and sitting on top of it.
"Hey," Stiles sputters, looking from Erica's ass and back up to her smirking face about three times before he gives up and leans back against the couch.
As much as he'd like his phone back he does not want to deal with Boyd when he inevitably slides his hand down Erica's ass and ends up copping a feel.
Because Boyd has needles and he knows how to use them in his favor.
Stiles self-consciously rubs his hands over his chest, feeling his nipples rings over the fabric.
"Is Derek not putting out?" Erica asks.
"Do you want us to leave you alone so you can keep touching yourself?" Laura adds, raising an eyebrow at him.
"What?" Stiles frowns at them, following their gazes to see that he's still feeling himself up.
Stiles is pretty proud of himself when he doesn't blush as he stops touching his nipples – messing with his rings feels good, okay? -, slides his hands down his chest and rests them on his stomach.
"Seriously," Laura says, tugging his ear. "Did something happen?"
"Is Derek really not putting out?" Erica asks, and then lowers her voice. "Want me give you guys a hand?"
"Oh my god," Stiles groans, loud enough to get the attention of the guy getting inked by Isaac and the old lady waiting for Boyd to finish up with her granddaughter's navel ring.
"Or maybe two hands?" Erica purrs, resting a hand on Stiles' knee.
"We're not having a threesome, Erica," Stiles says, loudly.
So loud that he really shouldn't be surprised when he hears Derek's voice saying, "We're also not letting you watch or record anything!"
Stiles doesn't know whether to get up and go drag Derek back to his office so they can have hot dirty office sex or smother himself with his shirt when he hears the old lady mutter something that sounds a lot like I'd pay for that under her breath.
"What's got you down, Stiles?" Laura tries again, poking him in the cheek. "Tell Aunt Laura all about it."
"You sound really creepy when you say that, just so you know," Stiles tells her, ignoring her question.
"Stiles," Erica says, and he has to turn and stare at her because Erica sounds serious and she looks worried and she's kind of freaking Stiles out. "What's wrong?"
"It's the anniversary of my mom's death in a few weeks," Stiles answers, ignoring the looks Laura and Erica share. "I won't be able to come back home to spend it with my dad and I just- It got to me a lot more than I thought it would."
"Well," Laura drawls out, bumping her shoulder against Stiles'. "We could do something here if you want?"
"Yeah," Erica nods. "Like cook her favorite dessert or watch a movie or get you shitfaced?"
Stiles snorts at that, feeling a little bit better about this whole thing as Laura and Erica look expectantly at him.
"That's okay," Stiles shakes his head. "I think I'll just stay in and make Derek give me a back rub or something."
"You do know you sound like an old person right now, don't you?" Erica asks him, and when Stiles turns back to look at her he can see the old lady nodding her head as she flips the pages on her magazine and pretends not to eavesdrop.
Stiles wonders when this became his life and if it's acceptable to blame Scott.
The front door opens and a guy comes in, waving a hand at Laura as he spots her on the couch.
"I have to go to work," Laura says as she gets up from the couch, leaning down again to kiss Stiles on the cheek. "If you change your mind just let me know and we'll do something with you."
"Okay," Stiles nods at her, watching as she leads the guy to her work station before turning to Erica. "Don't you have some work to do?"
"Nope," Erica smiles at him. "I'm free to keep bothering you for at least another hour."
"Lucky me," Stiles deadpans, his lips curling up when Erica only snorts and elbows him in the ribs.
"But seriously," Erica says after a few beat of silence. "Why ask Derek to give you a back rub when you can get body chocolate at the store across the street and rub it all over him instead?"
Stiles raises his eyebrows at her, because that's interesting.
"Body chocolate," Stiles repeats. "Across the street."
"Yes," Erica smirks, licking her lips. "And it's a really good brand, too. Boyd and I use it sometimes."
"Of course you do," Stiles says, trying to hide the fact that he's impressed that Erica and Boyd manage to be even more kinky than he and Derek are.
And they're really fucking kinky.
"But really," Erica nudges him with a foot. "You should try it. It's better than a back rub, anyway."
Stiles is about to open his mouth and say no, thanks when he hears the old lady mutter yes, it is as she flips another page of her magazine.
And really, who's he to argue with that?
"So," Derek says as he snakes his arms around Stiles' middle and hooks his chin over Stiles' shoulder. "Do I want to know why Erica told you to have fun with dessert when we were leaving the shop?"
Stiles makes a noise at the back of his throat, eyes focused as he tries to serve two bowls of spaghetti without burning himself.
"She might have said something about how the store across the street sold chocolate body paint," Stiles explains, shrugging one shoulder.
"And now we might be the owners of how many bottles of chocolate paint?" Derek asks, hands sliding under Stiles' shirt to palm at his flat stomach.
"One," Stiles squeaks out as Derek's hands slip lower, wiggling his ass against Derek's crotch because he doesn't have to play fair if Derek's not going to. "Maybe two."
"We know what we're having after dinner, then," Derek says, biting lightly at Stiles' shoulder before letting go of him and grabbing his bowl from the counter.
Stiles looks over his shoulder at Derek's retreating for and then down to his dick, sighing.
"It's like he enjoys making us suffer," Stiles tells his jeans-covered crotch. "But don't worry, buddy. I'll have his mouth on you by the end of the night."
"Are you really talking to your dick again?" Derek asks from behind him.
Stiles is not particularly proud of the high-pitched sound that comes out of his mouth at that, or at the way he startles so bad that half of his spaghetti ends up on his shirt and on the floor.
"Why are you the way you are?" Stiles whines, picking pasta from his shirt.
"I came here to get drinks," Derek says, lips twitching in amusement. "I didn't mean to interrupt you two."
Stiles just glares at him, getting a hand on the collar of his shirt and pulling it up and off.
He doesn't really want to admit that Derek catching him giving his dick pep-talks is something that happens quite often.
"That's gonna stain," Stiles complains as he flips the shirt inside out and throws it in the sink, turning on the cold water.
"Sorry," Derek says, coming to rest against the counter beside Stiles. "I really didn't mean for it to happen."
Stiles presses his lips in a thin line, "Just go get the laundry detergent."
"Liquid?"
"Yeah," Stiles nods, trying to get the worst of the tomato sauce off.
When Derek comes back he hands the detergent to Stiles, kissing the back of his neck before saying, "I'll clear out the floor."
It takes them about twenty minutes to get everything spaghetti and tomato sauce free, and by then Derek has to reheat both their bowls in the microwave so they can have dinner.
It feels oddly domestic in a way that tugs at Stiles' heart.
He thinks he might even get a little bit teary eyed, if it isn't for the fact that Derek takes one look at Stiles naked chest and licks his lips.
He also doesn't let Stiles put another shirt on.
"I like you like this," Derek shrugs, eyes going from Stiles' nipple rings to his ink as they eat.
"You mean you like my jewelry," Stiles snorts. "And your mark on me."
Stiles sounds a lot more annoyed than he actually is.
Because knowing that his ink and rings turn Derek on only serves to get him even more worked up than he already is whenever he's around Derek.
Stiles doesn't know whether to be proud or sad at himself that ever since he started dating Derek he learned how to not draw attention to the semi he sports every time Derek bends over to pick something up or licks his lips or smirks at Stiles like he knows exactly how much he's affecting him.
Kind of like now, with the way Derek's eyes go a dark, zeroing on the wolf inked on Stiles' side.
"Yeah," Derek breathes out, and suddenly Stiles is not interested in dinner anymore.
Because Derek has that look on his face that means he wants to spread Stiles out and eat him up.
And Stiles is totally and completely a hundred percent on board with that.
He's so on board with that that Derek barely has any time to put his bowl down on the coffee table before Stiles is throwing himself at him and mashing their lips together.
They kiss, open-mouthed and wet and with no finesse, their teeth knocking together as Stiles gets his hands on Derek's hair and adjusts the angle.
He loves this.
He loves fucking Derek's mouth with his tongue, loves Derek nipping at his lips, loves the taste of him, the feel of him, the little grunts and choked-up gasps he makes every time Stiles pulls away, as if asking for more.
"Wanna mark me up some more?" Stiles asks, sitting himself more firmly on Derek's lap and grinding his ass down on the firm line of Derek's half-hard dick. "Paint me? Put your name on my skin and lick it clean?"
"Yes," Derek says, and Stiles loves that he's the one that gets to make Derek sound like this, hoarse and desperate and like he's going completely out of his mind.
Stiles can't help but feel a little bit proud of himself for that, still slowly rolling his hips and watching as Derek's eyelids flutter, as his breathing becomes more erratic, and feeling as he keeps getting harder and harder under Stiles' ass.
It's kind of fascinating, really.
So fascinating, in fact, that Stiles forgets all about chocolate body sauce until Derek pulls back from licking and biting at his neck to stare at him from under his lashes and ask, "Where's the chocolate?"
It still takes Stiles a good ten seconds to get his brain to cooperate and form the words, "Bag on the coffee table."
Derek secures a hand around Stiles' waist to keep him in place as he turns to the coffee table, grabbing the plastic bag Stiles left on top of it and dumping the two bottles of chocolate body paint on the floor.
"Do we even know if this tastes okay?" Derek asks him, taking both of the bottles in hand and eyeing them dubiously.
"Erica said so," Stiles nods, taking advantage of Derek's distraction to bite down at his earlobe and suck it into his mouth.
Derek's breath catches as he tilts his head to the side, giving Stiles room to move to suck at the spot right behind his ear, down his neck, and bite down at his pulse point.
"Last time Erica convinced you of something, you ended up with these," and one of Derek's hands comes to flick one of Stiles' nipple rings to make his point. "So I guess I'll trust her with this one."
"Now that that's settled," Stiles mumbles against the skin of Derek's neck, dipping his tongue on the hollow of Derek's throat. "How about we go to bed?"
"Aren't we full of great ideas today?" Derek says flatly, hissing when Stiles bites at his chin in retaliation.
"You know it," Stiles says, tracing his tongue over the stubble. "You'll be particularly fond of my great ideas when you have me all spread out in front of you covered in chocolate and up for the taking," Stiles pauses at that, shrugging. "Or licking."
"Or eating," Derek adds, smirking when Stiles gives a whole body shudder.
"Promise?" Stiles asks, and he thinks he should be a little embarrassed at how breathless he sounds.
Not that he gives a fuck when all Derek does is smirk at him, and then next thing he knows Derek is shoving two bottles of chocolate sauce at him, and then he's being hoisted up with Derek's hands firmly on his ass and his legs wrapped around Derek's waist.
He thanks the heavens for the day he found out Derek was strong enough to hold him up like this.
And for all the wall sex they had.
Good times.
And this is about to be the best of times, judging by the way Derek drops him on the bed and immediately goes to work on getting all of their clothes off.
This is also one of Stiles' favorite things about Derek, how fucking eager he is all the times they have sex, like he can't wait to have his hands, tongue, and dick in and out and all over Stiles.
How Derek likes to play with him, bring him to the edge, make him fall apart only to put him back together again.
Stiles doesn't even really notices that he's going on and on poetically in his head about Derek's ability to sex him up until he feels the drop of something cold on his stomach.
He props himself on his elbows and watches as Derek writes his name on Stiles' belly with chocolate paint, staring at it with a smug smile on his face once he's finished.
"Proud of yourself?" Stiles raises an eyebrow at him, fighting a shiver when Derek just locks eyes with him and lowers his head slowly.
For a second there Stiles thinks Derek is going for his dick, lying hard and flushed and leaking against his stomach, and biting down on his bottom lip not to let out a whine when Derek bypasses it completely to trace his name over Stiles' skin with his tongue.
When he pulls back is to have chocolate smudged over his chin and lips, and Stiles can't really help it when he gets a hand on the back of Derek's neck and pulls him in for a kiss, licking his way into his mouth.
"This does tastes kind of awesome," Stiles muses when he pulls back, sucking at the paint left of Derek's chin.
"It tastes better on you," Derek says in return, pushing at Stiles chest with his hands until Stiles is lying flat on the bed again.
Stiles is just about to open his mouth and say something like you know what tastes even better? my dick when Derek grabs the bottle and starts drawing again, this time doing swirls around Stiles' nipples and chest.
Derek doesn't even bother looking back at Stiles this time, latching to suck the chocolate off of him, teeth catching against the bar across his nipple and pulling it when he feels Stiles trying to buck his hips up, looking for friction.
He lets go, going for the bottle again, and Stiles absolutely does not keen at the first touch of paint on his dick.
Or when Derek thumbs at the slit and spreads precome and chocolate all over him.
And also not when Derek brings his hand up and places his fingers against Stiles' lips.
Stiles can taste himself and chocolate as he opens up and sucks Derek's fingers into his mouth, coating them with saliva and biting at the digits when Derek pulls his hands back.
He thinks about complaining, the words dying on his lips as Derek wraps his hand around Stiles' dick and starts jerking him off, rolling his hips so that his own cock slides against Stiles' chocolate covered stomach.
Stiles brings his own hand up to cup Derek's jaw, angling his head so Derek can fuck his tongue into Stiles' mouth, teeth catching at his bottom lip when Derek tries to pull away.
"Wanna taste you," Derek pants against Stiles' lips, kissing him one more time before pulling back completely and sliding down on the bed.
Stiles swallows hard at the imagine Derek makes, with chocolate smudges over his face, lips swollen and red and spit-slicked, and pupils blown.
He gets a hand on himself, guiding his dick so it bumps against Derek's chin, adding precome to the mess already there.
Derek looks back up at him, licking his lips before letting his mouth drop open, staring at Stiles expectantly.
Stiles is pretty sure this is the night he'll die.
Because Derek with his mouth opened waiting patiently for Stiles to slide his cock in and fuck his mouth is about the hottest thing Stiles has ever seen in his life.
And he has Derek Hale for a boyfriend.
The role reversal is also doing things to Stiles' ability to form proper thought or get on with the program, because as much as Derek loves getting his mouth on Stiles, Stiles is usually the one opened for letting Derek fuck his face like it's the last thing he'll do for as long as he lives.
So it's not until Derek rolls his eyes and shapes his lips to probably say something sassy and mean, Stiles gets a hand on Derek's hair and guide his face where he wants it.
Right on his crotch.
And cue flashbacks of the first time they met and Derek sucked him off on the back office of the tattoo shop.
Or as Stiles likes to call it: the day all of his dreams came true.
Stiles rocks his hips with no rhythm at all, too lost in the feel of warm and hot and wet to control himself while Derek moans around him, his hands resting against Stiles' thighs and feeling the muscles twitching as Stiles keeps getting closer and closer to the edge.
It's not until Derek gets his hands under Stiles' ass, lifting his hips up on the bed and spreading his cheeks apart, one of his fingers ghosting over Stiles' hole as he takes him impossibly further down his throat and swallows that Stiles comes with Derek's name on his lips, grip tightening on Derek's hair.
He barely registers Derek releasing him and spitting a mouthful of jizz on his hand, moving lower to trace his tongue over Stiles' hole and lick the chocolate smudges on his ass and crack clean.
When Stiles comes back up online is to almost black out again out of the sheer fucking perfection that is Derek.
Because he's getting up on his knees on top of the bed, settling between Stiles' spread legs and jerking himself off.
Jerking himself off while using Stiles' come and chocolate body paint as lube, and then Stiles is turning a little on his side just in time for Derek to throw his head back and come all over Stiles' wolf tattoo.
And this is why Stiles' life is awesome.
And why sometimes he can't even believe his own fucking luck.
And why he wishes he could get hard again, because this is quality porn right here.
Derek like this, with his throat bared and mouth opened and eyes closed, hand on his cock and he finishes coating Stiles' ink with his come.
Stiles knows this is exactly what he'll be thinking about when he decides to run one off later in the shower.
That or the way Derek looks as he flops down on the bed by his side and tries to catch his breath, hands and dick covered in come and chocolate.
He looks absolutely delectable.
And Stiles would totally be up for cleaning him up his mouth and tongue if it wasn't for the fact that Derek is now busy dirtying Stiles up even more so than he was a second ago.
Not that Stiles minds, really.
It's just that he feels sticky, and not necessarily in a good way.
He tells Derek that much.
"I feel sticky," Stiles scrunches up his nose, staring down at the mess on his stomach and chest. "I don't know if I like it."
"You are sticky," Derek answers, mouthing at Stiles' jaw. "And you do like it."
"I know I like your hands on me," Stiles looks pointedly at Derek's hand on him, spreading come and chocolate all over his chest and belly and down to the wolf on his side. "Not sure about all the chocolate sauce and jizz, though."
Derek makes a noise at the back of his throat, not stopping his movements or raking his teeth over the sensitive skin of Stiles' neck.
"We should probably take a shower," Stiles says after a while, grabbing Derek's wrist and moving his hand from its place lying flat on top of Stiles' stomach.
Or at least trying to.
Because he's pretty sure Derek's hand is glued to him with body paint and come.
It's kind of disgusting.
"Yeah," Derek nods in agreement, scowling at his hand like it personally offended him.
"Oh, don't look so sour," Stiles pats Derek's cheek with his free hand. "We had fun before this got all…," Stiles waves a hand in front of him, making a face.
"Filthy," Derek offers, lips twitching in amusement.
"Yes, that," Stiles nods, turning so he can kiss the corner of Derek's mouth. "And not in the way we like it."
He smirks at himself when Derek licks his lips at that, eyes going from Stiles' own to his lips.
"Yeah," Derek says, licking his lips. "I should probably thank Erica next time I see her."
Stiles snorts at that, because yeah, right, "She doesn't need encouragement."
"Still," Derek shrugs, leaning in to brush his lips against Stiles'. "It was fun."
"Yeah," Stiles mumbles. "It really was."
"Why don't you get a tattoo for her?" Isaac asks, tilting his head to the side.
"What?" Stiles blinks at him, because he has no idea what he's talking about.
Isaac is on cash register duty again, and Stiles is perched on top of the counter as Boyd sits on the stool by Isaac's side waiting for his next client.
"Erica told us about your mom," Boyd tells him, voice low.
Stiles purses his lips together.
He knows it's useless to be mad at her about it, because as meddling and sometimes infuriating as they all are, they still somehow became his… his family.
And now Stiles is trying not to choke up, because he hadn't realized it before.
Because as much as they tease him and try to drive him insane and somehow have this weird fascination about his and Derek's sex life, they still care about him. They still stepped up when they realized something wasn't right and thought of ways that could make him feel better.
Laura and Erica with offering to do something with him, Derek making sure he knew he wasn't alone, and now Isaac and Boyd talking quietly and telling him to ink a part of her on his skin.
And suddenly that's all Stiles can think about.
Doing something like this for his mom and getting something to honor her, to remind himself and her that he didn't forget, that he still loves her even though she's not here anymore, and that he misses her every day.
"I got one for my brother," Isaac says, staring down at his hands. "In remembrance."
Stiles clasps a hand over his shoulder, squeezing it.
He knows a little about Isaac's life before all of this, and none of it is good.
"Do you think Derek would draw something for me?" Stiles asks, biting down on his lower lip.
"Yeah," Isaac nods, the ghost of a smile on his lips. "He would."
"And he wouldn't even ask for blowjob in return," Boyd says flatly.
And this is when life starts to get scary.
Because Boyd sounds exactly like Erica, and Stiles doesn't even want to think about what this will mean for his sanity.
And by the look of horror on Isaac's face, he's thinking the same thing.
"I'm not so sure about that," comes Derek's voice from behind Stiles, and a second later he has two arms wrapped around his shoulders and Derek's chin resting against the top of his head.
"I don't want to know," Isaac shudders, turning his back to them so he's facing the front door.
Boyd merely raises an eyebrow at them, and Stiles is almost positive he can see the faint traces of a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips.
Like he said, scary.
"Come to the back with me?" Derek asks him, arms tightening around Stiles before letting him go.
"For a blowjob?" Stiles can't help but ask as he turns around, ignoring the sound Isaac lets out.
If Stiles didn't know better he'd think he was hurt.
Or possibly dying.
But he does know better, so he just continues to stare at Derek expectantly.
He tries not to feel too disappointed when Derek shakes his head at him, extending a hand for Stiles to hold on to.
Stiles nods at Boyd as he gets up and follows Derek to the office, ignoring the knowing smirk Erica sends their way and Laura's contorted face as they walk past her station.
Derek goes to his desk as soon as they step inside, getting one of his sketchpads, flipping a few pages before he finds what he's looking for and hands it to Stiles.
Stiles frowns at him, taking the pad and letting his eyes roam over the page, his heart constricting in his chest as he realizes what Derek drew for him.
There are three nightblooming cereus staring back at him, all in black and white, and Stiles thinks his heart is going to leap out of his chest and onto the table and beg Derek to never let them go ever again.
"I thought it might be something you'd want someday," Derek says, voice low and soft. "I was going to mention it to you later, but I guess Isaac got there first."
"It's beautiful," Stiles whispers, tracing his fingers over the drawing.
"I bet your mom was prettier," Derek offers him a sad smile, coming to stand beside Stiles so he can drop a kiss to his temple.
"When can I get it done?" Stiles licks his lips, and he really fucking hopes Derek says now.
Because he can't wait to get it.
He can't wait to do this, to have this part of her permanently in his skin.
"We can do it tonight after closing time," Derek says, kissing Stiles' cheek.
"Can we ask the others to be here?" Stiles asks, thinking that this might be the perfect way to mourn his mom.
In his favorite place in the world, with five of his favorite people by his side.
"We'd be honored," and Stiles turns to look at the door is to find Isaac, Boyd, Erica, and Laura all standing there and smiling at him.
So it's no fucking surprise to anyone when Stiles burst into tears right there and then.
And later that night, after he's calmed down enough to move on to the front of the shop, Stiles spends the time Derek is busy inking the flowers to the soft skin of his inner left arm sharing stories about his mom.
Part of it is to keep himself from getting a hard on, because the feel of Derek's hands on him and the sharp pain of the needle going through his skin will never not get him turned on.
He tells them stories and they listen to him and laugh with him and grieve with him.
And when Derek pecks him lightly on the lips before patting his shoulder and saying he's done, Stiles goes to stare at his new tattoo - his eyes getting watery as he takes in the fresh ink and blood and red skin and the three perfect flowers there –, and they all huddle close and touch him somehow, offering silent support.
And Stiles can't really help but think that yeah, this is perfect.
Two weeks later Stiles comes to the shop at closing time, watching as everyone's face soften as he brings out the rainbow cake and sets it on top of the shop counter – the words "you're nosy but you're family" written on it with chocolate syrup –, and he thinks that his mom would be proud of his little makeshift family.
That is until Erica opens her mouth and asks, "This is not written in chocolate body sauce, is it?"