“I need you to send me to an alternate dimension!”
Alan Deaton looks up from his patient - a stray yorkie mix with big brown eyes that could only be rivaled by his apprentice Scott McCall. The dog seemed relieved for a distraction from the procedure Deaton was about to perform and pointed its nose so the vet would focus on the intruder and not the dog’s junk.
“Perceptive little thing, aren’t you?” The dog whined as Deaton set down the syringe full of anesthetic and finally acknowledged the young man, panting in his doorway.
“Hello Mr. Stilinski.”
“No time for pleasantries, Alan! Stop trying to take all the fun out of that stray and send me to an alternate dimension!” The boy pouts and stamps his foot. He’d been running, but what Deaton knew better than anyone was that the only true threat to Stuart Stilinski was ~feelings.
He’d been noticing lately that Stu has slowly been allowing space for emotion in his life. His twin brother, Stiles, finally started dating Derek Hale and the three of them lived together in Derek’s loft downtown. It wasn’t the most conventional arrangement, but Deaton knew that it worked for all three of them.
It did, at least, until ~feelings became involved. No, this wasn’t the first time Stuart showed up at Deaton’s door, demanding some sort of magic to reverse his insistent caring. Everyone knew Stu and Stiles were a package deal; they needed to be in close proximity with one another to even function and shared a bond that still boggles scientists to this day. They can carry each other’s emotions and sense when the other is hurt or in danger. They even had a bond when it came to romance, but made sure not to cause drama between them over boys and girls. According to Stu, even though their twinsense was “on fleek”, Stu knew that Derek wasn’t his type and he’d find some “daddy motherfucker” to tide him over when Derek and Stiles got freaky.
They’d been living together for almost a year when something changed.
“He got me a fucking anniversary gift, Alan!” Stu yelled out one day as Alan was placing a cast on a long legged greyhound. “And it was perfect. You remember when Aunt Clare took me and Stiles to Egypt that summer and we got the picture with both of us on the hump?”
Alan didn’t remember, but he was also sure that this was Stu’s backwards way of telling him the story.
“Well we thought it was lost in the fire, but this motherfucker found it and had it restored and framed and he gave Stiles a crystal camel figurine and me the picture to put in my room. I nearly fucking cried, I mean, what the fuck!?”
“He’s clearly an asshole and deserving of the… what was it? The uglifying spell you’ve asked me for before?”
Stuart sighed and the greyhound turned to Deaton, clearly amused at the shenanigans of the exasperated human in the room. Deaton found himself sympathizing as Stu began to pace.
“Not an uglifying spell, per se, but more like- I mean, come on! You know that pretty bitch has a rotting portrait in an attic somewhere!” the beleaguered boy offers for explanation. Deaton (and the greyhound) simply stared at him until he continued.
“So, show me where that portrait is so I can destroy it! Maybe if he looks like fart breath, it’ll be easier to not want to provide for him and hold and pet him while I tell him about my day!” Even the greyhound raises an eye at Stu who’d gone glossy eyed as he stared into a corner. Alan sighed.
“Stuart, have you tried talking to him?” He asked, already knowing the answer. Stu shrugged and took off his glasses which had started to steam up. He cleaned them thoughtfully as he answered.
“Talking to him is like talking to a brick wall. A beautifully sculpted, Grecian brick wall. Besides, I know it’s just because of the bond, but I don’t do romance and I don’t do relationships and after that picture stunt, just being in his presence makes me want to… you know, do those things.”
“What did you say when he gave it to you?” Deaton asked, trying to think of a way to lead Stu to the obvious conclusion.
“The picture, what did you say after you opened it?”
Stu just shrugged again and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “I mean, I said thank you, I am a decent human being, Alan.”
Deaton narrowed his eyes suspiciously turning back to the greyhound who confirms there was indeed some missing information.
“When you said thank you, was it with your mouth on his cock?”
His suspicions were confirmed by the red that spread through Stu’s exterior. Stu rolled his eyes.
“Well, yeah, of course, Alan! I am a decent human being!”
“Stuart, did you tell him the gift was too much? That it wasn’t your anniversary, but instead his and Stiles?”
“Yeah, about that. So like, I guess I kind of got caught up in the thing, and after the thank you blowjob-” Stu then made a motion to indicate something more, “-it just didn’t feel right.”
“Didn’t feel right to tell him you wanted to be casual after you fucked him?”
“Alan, language, please!”
“I apologize for offending your sensibilities, Stuart. After you made love.” Deaton offered as Stuart bristled even harder at the implication.
“Well, okay, but that’s… that’s not what-”
Deaton put a hand up, pointing at the door.
“Stuart, go home and talk to Stiles and Derek. I’m sure the answer is simple so long as you can keep your dick in your pants.”
Stuart sighs, “Fine! I’ll go home and deal with it like I don’t have a shaman at my disposal.”
“You most certainly don’t.”
“Sure, Jan!” Stuart yelled before turning on his heels and taking his leave. He’d be back dozens more times in the next six months demanding magical services to deal with the myriad of sizes his heart was growing due to affection for and from Derek Hale.
Normally there would be complaints of extra touches and languid make out sessions on the couch while Stiles worked on his masters nearby.
One time there was even an impromptu picnic in the park that segued into Stu and Derek going to a concert by Stu’s favorite band.
“It's like he fucking planned it!” Stu had spat out on that particular occasion.
“It sounds like he did, Stu. It sounds a lot like a date.”
“Jesus, Alan!” Stu sat up quickly from where he was lying on Deaton’s couch. “That's fucking crazy talk! Why would it be a date?”
Deaton shrugged from across the room where he was putting the final touches on his famous dip. He hummed to himself lightly; it was fun for him to create magic in the kitchen.
“Well, Stuart, it's typical for members in a relationship to want to spend time together- and before you start to rant about that-” Deaton pointed his spoon at Stuart, stopping the rant that clearly traveled from boy’s soul to the tip of his tongue. Stuart swallowed and waited, “-tell me this: did he get a goodnight kiss at the end of the night?”
Stu opens his mouth presumably to lie, before eyeing Deaton’s dip and oddly deciding otherwise.
“I was gonna say no, but it was only because our mouths were otherwise occupied, I could rim that feral bastard for hours. I know because I did that night.” Stu offered as explanation as he reached for a pita chip and dug into the dip. “I couldn't lie in front of the dip, Alan, this shit is like truth serum; so good and pure.”
This was how most of their impromptu therapy sessions unfolded. Stu would come by to rant about how sweet and perfect Derek was,
He actually wore the male panties I got him! I swear it was a joke! He was hotter than the fucking sun and then he and Stiles performed some sort of dance number?
And Deaton would ask him leading questions to get him to realize he was head over heels for the wolf,
What did you do?
I prayed that they were edible, otherwise I'm going to be shitting pink frilly lace for a week with how fast I sunk my teeth into that wereass.
What else did you give him?
A leather jacket that he'd been eyeing for a while? What? It didn't mean anything! Well, until he showed up wearing nothing but that and the panties…
Dammit, Alan, what the fuck is wrong with me?!
Deaton kept to himself that it sounded like love, but he knew Stuart had already considered and dismissed (and considered again) the implication.
Today seemed to be different, as though Stu had reached his breaking point.
“I need you to send me to an alternate dimension!” the boy yells again, waiting for Deaton to react appropriately. Deaton sighs the heavy sigh of those endeared to the Stilinskis and puts the Yorkie back in its kennel.
“Stuart… whet?” Deaton asks plainly, foregoing his usual deference and trying to get Stuart to get to the fucking point.
“The way I see it is this,” Stuart starts, “I’m in…. I’m falling, I’m… whatever with Derek, right? But that can’t happen, you know? Because of twinsense. I can’t fall into.. whatever with Derek, so I figure that I go into some alternate reality where there are no Stileses, but there are Dereks! Then I find one that’s perfect for me, convince him to come back and that’s that! Problem solved!”
“I’m better equipped to give worm shots.” Deaton offers, fecund with sarcasm. Stuart flails violently before crowding Deaton against the door poking him in the nose.
“Look here, you druid piece of shit!” Deaton raises an eyebrow, but it’s completely ignored by the steaming young man in front of him, “You might scare everyone else with your aloofness and craftiness, but you don’t fool me. I see through you, old man! Now cut the shit!” Stuart holds his ground until Deaton lowers his eyebrow and exhales, placing a sedate hand on Stu’s chest and pushing him back gently.
“While your display of aggression is adorable-”
“I’ll kick your ass, Deaton!” Stu yells, obviously trying to muster up the courage to not bare his neck in submission, which doesn’t even make sense for the current situation. Deaton smirks.
“Alan, c’mon!” Stuart scrunches his nose while Deaton reaches out and massages his shoulder.
“Tell me again why you want to travel to different universes? Have a seat there.” Deaton points Stu to one of the chairs and heads to his counter, flipping on the electric kettle for tea. He digs in one of his drawers before coming up with an envelope full of herbs and capsules.
“I’m… fuck it, I’m… in love with Derek, but I’m nobody’s third wheel!” Stu is quick to explain as he takes the steaming mug from Deaton and sips, humming pleasantly at the warmth. “They love each other and don’t have room for me!”
“They told you this?” Deaton asks as he sits across from Stu, offering a plate of homemade madeleines. Stu takes one and nibbles thoughtfully.
“Well, no… exactly opposite in fact, but like, it can’t be real, right? It’s just the twinsense!” Before Deaton can answer, Stu continues. “So anyhow, the way I figure there’s got to be some spare Dereks out there, right? Ha, some Spareks!” Stu lifts his hand for a high five and beams when Deaton doesn’t leave him hanging.
“So I’m sure I can convince one to fall in love with me back and then we all live happily ever after.”
Deaton blinks and watches Stu as he focuses his attention on dunking the madeleine into the tea. Stu finally grows uncomfortable in the silence and looks back at the stoic presence in front of him.
“Don’t blink at me, Alan, just fucking make it happen!”
The vet (for all intents and purposes) sighs and rubs his hand over his face. The McCall-Hale pack always did push his limits, but this was absurd.
“Stuart, even if I had the knowledge and capabilities to-”
“Blah, blah, blah- with great power comes great responsibility- got it!” Stuart protests as he forms one of his hands into a duckbill and start quacking it in Deaton’s face. “Alan, I know and I give less of a fuck than even you do about the short-bus butterfly effect ramifications. Fuck social morality, my heart is starting to ache with fucking love and I can’t handle it so magick me up a solution!” Stuart throws his hands out before crossing them resolutely over his chest. Deaton shakes his head and sighs.
“Fine, Stuart.” Stuart breaks out into a grin as Deaton motions to the door, “Go back to the storage room and I’ll be right there.”
Twenty minutes later, Stuart is strapped into a chair, hooked up to a harmless IV. Deaton gives him 4 round pellets that look like candy. Stuart swallows them and hums; they taste like orange.
“Stuart, you’re going to experience-”
“Side effects, got it!” Stuart says, waving at Deaton as best he can with his arm strapped down. “If I don’t die, I’ll be truly amazed, wish me luck! Other dimensions here I come!”
“Safe travels, Mr. Stilinski.”
Alan watches as Stu’s eyes roll to the back of his head. He sees the boy start to convulse, but shows that everything is fine on the monitors that Stu is hooked up to. He sits down and pulls out a magazine as Stu goes under.