Stiles gets up from his place on the couch and puts all the albums away. He walks back to where Derek is still sketching and taps his fingers on the counter to get his attention. When Derek looks up at him with those ridiculous light green eyes, Stiles blurts, “I want you to do me.”
Derek looks stricken for a moment before letting his eyebrows climb up almost to his hairline. He doesn’t say anything, and it takes about three seconds for Stiles to realize what he said.
“Oh my God. No. That’s not what I meant,” he sputters, feeling his cheeks redden. It really wasn’t what he meant, expect that he totally did. “I meant I want you to tattoo me. Not do me. I went through your stuff and I’m seriously impressed, and it’d be an honor to have your art somewhere on my body. Yeah. Right.”