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Stiles did not imagine himself spending his Saturday in an IKEA. But, Stiles also never imagined his best friend would become a werewolf, or that he’d have a crush on someone who wasn’t Lydia Martin, or that he’d cuddle with Derek Hale, but, all of those things had happened, so, hey, why not?
He leaned against the shopping cart as Derek glowered at curtains like he wanted to set them on fire. “You know, you could have let Lydia do this. She offered.” Stiles mused, and Derek turned to glare at him instead.
“No.” he growled, and Stiles put his hands up in defeat.
“Okay, okay, maybe not.” he muttered, and Derek turned back to the curtains. “I like the brown ones.” Stiles offered after five more minutes of silent scowling. “They match the rest of the stuff we picked out-” He gestured to the dark wood table and shelves. “- and they’ll block out the light at night since you’re an idiot and let Isaac convince you to move into the apartments closest to the club district.”
Derek grimaced, but grabbed the curtains, and Stiles checks them off of Lydia’s List of Required Furnishings (it’s a long list, because Derek literally owns nothing but a ratty arm chair and a mattress.) “Okay, we’ve got night stand, area rug, and actual bed with a new mattress left to get.”
“There isn’t anything wrong with my old mattress.” Derek protested. Stiles raised an eyebrow.
“There are blood stains on it, and you ripped part of it.”
“Nothing wrong.”
“Risk of tetanus!”
Derek snorted. “I can’t get tetanus.”
“Your sexual partners can!” Stiles argued. Derek blinked dumbly at him. “Oh, come on, you’re attractive and likeable when you aren’t acting like someone pissed in your Cheerios. You have to be getting some somewhere!”
“Stiles, I’m not- I haven’t-” Derek looked like a deer caught in the headlights of an eighteen wheeler. “I don’t have a sexual partner.” he finally spluttered. “I haven’t in years, Jesus Christ!” Now it was Stiles turn to gape.
Stiles shook his head. “You haven’t- that’s insane! That cannot be true.”
“It’s not like- there have been offers.” Derek mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just… haven’t.”
“Why not?” Stiles asked. Derek shrugged.
“I was never the one night stand kind of guy, and relationships mean trust. There aren’t that many people I trust.”
Stiles nodded, pushing the cart and trying not to look excited, because Derek’s lack of relationship really shouldn’t make him this happy- well, not happy. Relieved. “Fair enough,” he said. “But, you’re still getting a new mattress.”
Derek groaned, but fell in behind him.
Half an hour later (most of which was spent arguing whether or not an area rug was really necessary (it was), they made it to the bedding section, where Stiles flopped down onto the first mattress he came to. Derek, who’d taken to pushing the cart since Stiles had gotten distracted in the lighting section, abandoned it in favor of looming over him. “I’m tired” Stiles harrumphed at his questioning eyebrow. “And, you need to test the mattresses, anyway. I’m just helping.”
Derek just rolled his eyes and laid down next to him, staring up at the ceiling. After a few minutes he got up, loomed over Stiles again, and shook his head. “No.”
Stiles blinked, but just sighed and chalked it up to Weird Werewolf Stuff Stiles Will Never Understand. Derek had already lain down on the next bed, so he got up and followed suit. Once again, Derek laid there for a few moments before getting up, staring at Stiles, saying “no”, and walking away. Lay down, get up, stare, rinse, repeat. They went through half of the mattress section like this before Stiles finally asked: “Derek, what the hell?”
Derek just blinked dumbly at him again. “What?”
“Why do you keep getting up and staring at me?” Stiles bit out. Derek actually blushed.
“I- um…” He muttered something incomprehensible under his breath.
Stiles blinked. “What was that?”
“I’m seeing which one looks best.” Derek said slowly.
“Which mattress looks best?” Stiles pulled a face. “Okay, a) they’re mattresses; they all look the same, and b) what does that have to do with me?”
“Because I want you to be comfortable in it.” Derek said, shifting awkwardly.
“Dude, it’s your bed. I’m not sleeping in it.” Stiles said.
“But I want you to be.” Derek said quietly.
“What the fuck are you talking abo-” Stiles cut himself off, something clicking in his mind. Derek wanted him in his bed. Derek had spooned with him and made him breakfast.
Derek had ice skated with him. Derek had taken him to IKEA. “Do you want to date me?” he spluttered.
“I- well, yes.” Derek stared at his feet and shrugged. “I do.”
“Oh my god.” Stiles breathed. “Oh my god!”
Derek looked like someone had punched him in the gut. “I’m sor-”
“No! No, do not say you’re sorry because this is the best thing ever.” Stiles scrambled up off of the bed and over to Derek, grabbing his hands. Derek looked up at him.
“It’s… how?” Derek asked, looking utterly baffled that Stiles may actually like him.
“Because you’re awesome!” Stiles replied, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “You’re hot and an amazing person when you aren’t being an asshole, and you’re fucking brave, and oh my god I cannot even believe you !”
Derek just squinted at him for a long time. “You actually… oh. Um. Okay.”
“You completely suck at feelings.” Stiles laughed.
“Sort of, yeah.” Derek snorted.
“We’ll work on it.” promised Stiles, pressing a quick kiss to Derek’s cheek. Derek raised an eyebrow.
“Will we?”
Stiles nodded. “At length, Sourwolf. But, first- headboards and bedframes. Since my opinion matters, I was thinking something leathery; goes with the whole greaser vibe you have going on…”