Chapter Text
The IKEA looms on the horizon like a hulking cyclops, its singular yellow eye turned unblinking on its next two victims. Mercy stares as it rises closer against the sky, bright blue and massive even from the farthest distance. As Matt pulls their little car into a space that is only about two days' walking distance from the entrance, Mercy reaches over to touch his partner's sleeve. It's the soft grey baseball shirt that they both love, and take turns wearing.
“We- We could still order online...”
Matt has plenty of arguments both against, and for, this statement. He's been prepared since Mercy first, haltingly, agreed to this adventure. They absolutely could have shopped online. Could have shopped in a smaller store. Could have done many things- but he knows a truth about their situation that he is trying to get Mercy to see. He lays one broad hand over the pale, freckled one that holds his forearm.
“You can do this. I believe in you."
“Oh,” Mercy flushes, so prettily, and drops his chin so that he can hide a moment behind his hair.
“I won't leave you. I'll be right there with you, just hold my hand,” Matt has been working, for years now, on pulling Mercy out of his shell. They have made leaps and bounds, and Matt is shocked at how much he, himself, has also grown.
Mercy gives a little nod and drifts out of the car, with his eyes still down. Matt comes up alongside him, brings Mercy's little hand up to thread it alongside his bicep, and leads them into the IKEA's maw. They spend the first hour wandering along the most obvious path, looking at artistic imaginings of living room and bedroom spaces. Of futuristic and homey kitchens. Mercy grips Matt's arm, hand, sometimes the closest belt loop of his jeans. As a teenager, Matt hated to be in other people's space, hated to be touched for too long; had felt smothered. Now, he can't imagine shopping trips in new places without Mercy surgically sewn to his side, never far, never alone.
Gradually, they get more and more comfortable in the space, to the point that Mercy will step away when something catches his eye, tugging Matt along and then showing off what wonderful thing he had found. He finds that he loves the system of shopping for large things, with order forms and pencils, and quickly appoints himself Boss of Paperwork, which Matt finds disgustingly cute and can't help but preen to himself at how it is his support, in part, that has raised up this funny little ginger man.
Their adventure winds down with Matt carrying two large IKEA bags of throw pillows, and Mercy leading the way down the giant warehouse aisles where the build-able furniture lives. He seems now to barely notice the other customers milling around, though he avoids direct encounters. Matt drives the industrial pallet cart to check-out, the bags hung from the side, while Mercy hovers alongside, keeping an eye on the stacked boxes.
Though Matt still handles the payment and the awkward small talk, he is still bursting with pride at how well Mercy handled the overwhelming corridors and maps and humans milling. They make it to the car, work together to pack the trunk- bungee cords are involved, and geometric physics- and get settled in the front seats with plenty of sunlight left in the day.
“Mattie,” the redhead mumbles, covered in throw pillows due to the folded backseat and two hundred pounds of compressed furniture, looking over at his partner with such open affection that if not already sitting, Matt thinks his knees might have gone out from under him. “Thank you for today.”
“I didn't do anything,” but he smiles, because he knows he did.
“You know what I mean,” Mercy argues, voice going low with the gentle admonishment that Matt lives for. They pull away from the gravitational force that IKEA exerts, drawing in more and more victims, but none of them as soft and sweet and inured against outside forces as the two young men leaving now. One levering himself against fancy pillows to kiss the driver's cheek, one driving single-handed so he can hold, even now, the hand of his favorite person in the whole world.
By silent agreement, Matt drives them through a fast food joint for burgers and fries, and then they head home to their first apartment that is all theirs: no roommates, no dorm-mates, no one at all but each other. And the cat.
And likely, they are the only two people on earth looking forward to lunch and then five hours of assembling furniture together- for both the science of it, and the excuse to be together, even after all this time.