I don't think the couch minds. [ An absent bit of teasing, but Derek figures Stiles probably needs that first, before he says what else came to mind. For a moment, he looks down at the familiar image of Stiles on his couch, looking maybe less than attractive by most standards. But there's something endearing about it. That his sons are comfortable enough to join him at times, that Stiles himself feels safe in the wolf's den. That he's somehow weaseled his way in to the point that said wolf even finds him drooling on his couch endearing in the first place.

He shrugs, angling his head a little to catch Stiles' eye. ]

And it's not exactly like it's a huge chore to move you to a bed. [ Both of his brows raise. ] Which I'm pretty sure doesn't mind, either.