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“CALLISTA NO!”
Stiles uses the broom in his hand like a hockey stick, whacking the basketball-sized ice monster back into the bright portal. The portal, a glowing white light that’s surrounded by light refraction rainbows, surges in brightness before disappearing with a loud whoosh. Stiles sags in relief against the broom before glaring at Callista. She’s sitting on the rug a dozen feet from where the portal opened, looking perfectly composed. She blinks at him with violet eyes before going back to licking her paw. Christ.
Stiles hears the front door open and a moment later, Peter’s walking into the living room, raising his eyebrows and looking between Stiles, the broom, and Callista the cat.
“Well, it smells like ozone in here, so I’m assuming Callista had another incident,” Peter says.
“Yes,” Stiles hisses.
“What is it this time? Another hurricane?” Peter asks.
Stiles shudders at the memory. A portal the size of a Volkswagen Beetle had opened in the kitchen and had blasted wind and water right through it. Stiles had been able to force the sideways rain and gusting wind back toward the portal until it closed again, but it’d left him and the kitchen soaked and horribly windblown.
“No, thankfully. An ice monster,” Stiles says, showing the broom to Peter. There’s a light blue stain on the section of bristles that had hit the monster.
Peter fixes Callista with a very unimpressed look. She jumps onto the windowsill, not seeming to care at all. He turns back to Stiles.
“Any progress on why exactly your cat is opening interdimensional portals in your house?” Peter asks.
“No,” Stiles says with a sigh. “I’m still waiting to hear back from Cleo and Douglas. They reached out to contacts who know more about interdimensional...stuff than I do.”
Peter glances over at where Callista is staring out the window at the crows in Stiles’s backyard. “I hope they’re quick.”
Cleo the witch and Douglas the demon are not quick. Two days later, Peter and Stiles are working on cleaning all the books off Stiles’s dining room table (“You have an entire library. Why are so many books in here?”) when a bright portal opens in the foyer behind them. Lime green gooey beings come flying out, dropping slime everywhere.
“No! Absolutely not!” Stiles yells, waving his hand until they’re all caught in a magical mini tornado, driving them back into the portal. It takes three days for Stiles to get the goo out of the rug.
Later that week, Peter’s reading in Stiles’s office while Stiles does some research when another portal opens and out walks a chicken. Stiles and Peter both stare at it, confused, until it opens its mouth and a loud cluck! is accompanied by a jet of fire.
“A fire-breathing chicken?!” Stiles shouts incredulously.
Peter is closest. He seizes the chicken and hurls it back through the open portal while Stiles stomps out the small fire that had started on the edges of the rug.
“No word still?” Peter asks. Stiles sighs.
“No,” Stiles says. “She may be getting a power upgrade and hasn’t quite mastered it yet...or she’s just being an asshole.”
Peter gets called into work later that night, so it’s just Stiles in bed when a portal opens in the middle of the mattress, right in front of where Callista is sitting. Stiles sits up and pulls his magic into his fist, ready to blast whatever comes out of it, but the only thing that walks out before the portal closes is a cat. A cat that looks like a perfect inverted Callista. Callista’s black with a white left ear, and this cat is white with a black left ear. They stare at each other with deep ocean blue eyes for a few moments before another portal opens. The white cat turns and walks through, the portal closing behind it.
“What the fuck,” Stiles says with a groan.
When Peter shows up the next night with takeout, he barely makes it into the kitchen before a portal opens, and Peter has to punt a round little fuzzy demon back through it.
“What the fuck?” Stiles says, turning to Callista, who’s sitting on the counter looking completely at ease. “Is this magical puberty? Are you mad at me?”
Given how many portals Callista’s opened in the last two weeks, Stiles isn’t at all surprised when he’s in his potions room in the third floor of the turret and a bright white light with light refraction rainbows bursts open in front of him. It’s a bigger portal than he’s seen so far and he absolutely is not expecting a whole-ass person to come tumbling out, the bright portal disappearing right after.
Stiles stares down in shock at the woman sprawled on his floor. She’s sputtering, trying to push her windswept brown hair out of her face and get to her feet at once. She somehow manages, and jumps a bit when she sees Stiles standing in front of her.
“What the fuck?!” Stiles says.
“What the fuck?!” the woman says. She glances around the room, seeing the Monsters, Inc. and Star Wars crock pots, a bunch of dried herbs hanging from the ceiling, and the orbs of light bobbing near the crown molding.
Peter comes barreling in a moment later, claws out, eyes blue, and fangs dropped.
“What the FUCK?” the woman shouts, looking between Stiles and Peter. Callista wanders over, rubbing up against the woman’s legs and looking up with bright red eyes. “Uh, Toto, we definitely aren’t in Asgard anymore.”
“Claws away,” Stiles hisses under his breath to Peter, who immediately complies. The woman looks only slightly less alarmed when Peter’s back to looking like a normal man.
“Can one of you please tell me what the fuck is going on?” she asks. “One second I was with Thor and Jane in the bifrost and the next I’m falling into some wizard’s attic?”
“Uh, witch, actually,” Stiles says. “You said—did you say Thor? And bifrost?”
The woman narrows her eyes. “Yes,” she says slowly. “Why?”
“Um. I don’t know how to tell you this, but I think you traveled to a different dimension,” Stiles says.
Her eyes widen. “Oh hell no, not again,” she says. She looks up at the ceiling and shouts, “HEIMDALL! Heimdall, you better bring me back right now!” Whatever she seems to be waiting for doesn’t happen, and she slumps with a groan. “I need a drink.”
“I can do that,” Stiles says quickly. “Er, what’s your name.”
“Oh, I’m Darcy,” she says. “And you are…?”
“Stiles. And this is Peter.”
“Okay Stiles and Peter, I need rum.”
Darcy feels like there’s a battering ram in her skull and would kill for a painkiller, but she’s much more interested in looking around the weird house as she follows Stiles and Peter (who has fangs and claws and glowing eyes. The cat with bright red eyes walks beside her, occasionally bumping into her legs, and only experience with her mom’s cat that lives to trip people keeps Darcy upright.
She is trying so hard not to freak out. She’s been dropped into other dimensions twice before, and Jane always managed to get her back, but what if she and Thor don’t realize that’s what happened? What if they think she fell out of the bifrost and assume she’s dead? What if—what if no one is looking for her? What if she’s stuck in a dimension where apparently monsters and magic (floating light balls?!) are real? Actually it sounds pretty baller, but she’d still much rather be home.
Stiles and Peter lead her through a dining room filled with a truly impressive amount of books and into the kitchen. She takes a seat at the island while Stiles and Peter move around the kitchen.
“Do you want some tea with your rum?” Stiles asks as he puts the kettle on.
“Not like mixed together,” Darcy says. “But yes, please.”
Stiles taps the gas stove, a spark at his fingertips igniting the burner. She raises her eyebrows.
“So, interdimensional travel,” Stiles says. The cat jumps up on the island in front of Darcy, shamelessly asking for pets. Well, is Darcy not going to pet a cat?
“Interdimensional travel,” Darcy says. “I have no idea how it happened? We were in the bifrost traveling back to Earth when it felt like I was just...yanked out. Then all the sudden I’m falling into some magic guy’s attic.”
Peter’s lips are pursed, like he’s trying not to laugh.
“Okay, what is the bifrost exactly?” Stiles asks.
“It’s an Einstein-Rosen bridge,” Darcy says. "A wormhole, basically."
“And Thor...you’re friends with a god?”
“Yeah, but his day job is saving the world from alien invasions and robots and all that.”
“Wait,” Stiles says, eyes going wide. “You live in a superhero dimension? Oh my god.” He looks at Peter. “Peter! She lives in a superhero dimension!”
“I heard,” Peter says, looking highly amused.
“I’m sorry it’s just, we do not have world-saving superheroes,” Stiles says. “We have comic books, that’s it.”
“Oh man, rough,” Darcy says. “But you have like magic and,” Darcy looks over at Peter, “...mutants?”
Peter raises an eyebrow. “Excuse me?” he asks, voice chilly. Shit.
“Ohhhkay you don’t have mutants here. In my dimension mutants is the name for a group of people that have genetic mutations that give them superpowers,” Darcy says very quickly, trying to erase that pissed look off his face. “Like Rogue has super strength and can fly, and there’s a woman named Rahne whose power is to turn into a wolf, and you know, the claws and fangs and stuff reminded me of her.”
Thankfully, Peter’s face morphs into something more thoughtful and curious. “I see,” Peter says. “Well no, we don’t have mutants like that here. We do, however, have werewolves.”
Darcy watches in fascination as his fingernails lengthen into claws, his ears morph into points, his eyes turn that electric blue again, and ridges grow on his forehead.
“Wicked,” Darcy breathes.
Stiles sets her cup of tea in front of her, making her jump. He’s grinning.
“I kinda want to see your reality now,” Stiles says, putting the rum bottle next to the tea.
“Absolutely not,” Peter says, face morphing back to usual. “This is enough interdimensional travel.”
“God,” Darcy groans. She grabs the rum bottle and takes a big swig before picking up the tea. It’s a really fantastic chamomile, but it’s not quite how Thor does it, and that makes the fear and worry inside her flare. “Okay, the basics of the bifrost. My boss is the astrophysicist, not me, so you’re going to have to settle for my average person’s explanation. It’s basically a wormhole that moves you from one point to another without the pesky time and distance issues.”
“Whoa,” Stiles says, eyes bright. “That’s just so cool.”
So, a witch who digs science. Stephen Strange would be thrilled.
“I don’t know why it spit me out in your dimension though,” Darcy says.
“I may,” Stiles says, glaring at the cat batting at the rum bottle. “Miss Callista here is...going through a phase. A phase that involves, uh, opening interdimensional portals that spit stuff out all over my rugs.”
Darcy looks down at Callista. Callista looks right back at her, then goes back to pushing the rum bottle toward the end of the island. Stiles waves his finger and the bottle whooshes away to the other side of the kitchen.
“So theoretically, she opened a portal right into the bifrost, which is also basically a portal (don’t tell Jane I said that), and they interacted somehow and brought me here?” Darcy says.
“Probably the best theory we’re going to get,” Stiles says. “I’ve been reaching out to some contacts about Callista’s little phase, but I’ll do some more digging and see what I can find.”
“Magic contacts that understand interdimensional travel?” Darcy asks.
“I mean, yeah, maybe? Just maybe not this type,” he says. “No idea, we’ll find out.”
Peter pinches the bridge of his nose. “God.”
“Does your dimension have Advil? Because my head feels like it got hit by a Doombot,” Darcy says.
“I have no idea what that is,” Peter says, striding toward her. She doesn’t have time to say anything before he’s touching her wrist. The pain in her head immediately evaporates as she watches black flow up the veins in Peter’s hand from where he’s touching her.
“Whoa,” Darcy says. “That is cool as hell.”
Stiles feels so, so bad for Peter. He had enough on his hands dealing with Stiles and the magic craziness that comes with him, but now Stiles is pretty sure Peter’s going to lose his mind trying to keep track of what Stiles, Callista, and Darcy get up to.
Stiles had set Darcy up in the guest room on the second floor next to his office and meditation room while he researches how to get her home. He’d emailed Cleo and Douglas with an urgent update that his cat committed an interdimensional kidnapping and do they please, please, have any information? They still don’t, but they’re reaching out to their contacts again to explain the urgency of the situation.
Stiles lets Darcy use a spare laptop because she’s so curious about the differences between their dimensions and since this isn’t time travel he doesn’t need to guard secrets about his world.
“I knew my Spotify password wouldn’t work in this dimension but I had to try anyway,” Darcy says. She’s sitting cross-legged on an emerald green overstuffed chair in Stiles’s office, the spare laptop on her lap. “Which got me curious and led me to Googling myself, and it turns out I don’t even exist in this dimension, which is some bullshit. I definitely deserve to live in the werewolf dimension.”
Stiles snorts. “It sounds like you probably have werewolves in your dimension too in all honesty,” Stiles says. “I’m envious you’re in a superhero dimension and you’re buddy buddy with Thor. And Iron Man! Peter’s gonna have a job trying to keep me from hopping back into your dimension with you.”
“You’d get sick of it quick, probably as soon as Doctor Strange popped in and lectured you about the appropriate use of magic,” Darcy says.
“Sounds like a dick,” Stiles says.
Darcy shrugs. “Not arguing that.”
Darcy’s fiddling with her phone, which thankfully takes the same kind of charger as Stiles has, though the cell network doesn’t recognize it. She’d shown him pictures of herself with Thor and Jane, with Iron Man, with others, and Stiles’s mind had been completely blown. Now she’s glaring down at it, as if it’s personally responsible for keeping her from her music.
“You know…” Darcy says slowly. “Doctor Strange put some kind of spell thing on a phone at the tower so that it’ll always be able to call him if we need help, even if cell service is down.”
“Really?” Stiles says, leaning forward. He’s been fascinated with fusing magic and technology but in general has had limited success.
“Yeah, we were able to call him even when there was a complete blackout and all phone lines were down,” Darcy says. “So, in theory, would it be possible to magic a phone to play as much music as we want?”
A slow grin spreads across Stiles’s face. He’s hit a research block anyway. “We can find out.”
A couple hours later, when Peter gets back from work, he finds Stiles and Darcy standing in the attic, looking up at an impressive hole in the ceiling.
“What the hell happened?” Peter asks, making Darcy jump. Stiles forgets that just because he can feel Peter coming onto the property, doesn’t mean that everyone can. Whoops.
“Uh, well we were complaining about music streaming services and how it’s such a pain that good music is spread across like five of them and it’s bullshit to have to pay for so many, and we figured if I magicked the phone a certain way we could get unlimited music,” Stiles says, his words coming very fast.
Peter’s used to Stiles spitting out words as fast as possible, so this doesn’t even make him blink. “Okay, so why is there a hole in the roof?”
“We miscalculated?”
Peter sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “All right. Do we need to call a contractor or can you,” Peter pauses, waggling his fingers the way Stiles does when he’s indiciating magic, “deal with it?”
“I can deal with it,” Stiles says. “We were just debating if we should do a skylight, or maybe a rooftop garden?”
“You’re already working on expanding the greenhouse,” Peter says. “Is it really time for another project?”
Stiles sighs, knowing Peter’s right. “Fine. But when the greenhouse is done I’m revisiting this. I want a widow’s walk,” Stiles says.
“As long as you don’t push me off it, I support you,” Peter says.
“I would never push you off it,” Stiles says, then pauses for a moment. “Your sister, on the other hand.”
Darcy makes a surprised noise and looks between the two of them, like she’s trying to figure out if they’re kidding.
“My sister is the leader of my pack,” Peter explains. “And she’s a bit bratty when it comes to our relationship.”
“Also she’s super strong and heals,” Stiles says. “She’d just bounce all the way down, shove her arm back into its socket, and be on her merry way.”
“Well, that’s certainly one way to deal with annoying in-laws,” Darcy says. “Odin was very disapproving of Thor being with Jane at first because we’re such lower lifeform Midgardians. When she saved the universe from an evil elf takeover he kind of shut up about it.”
“God I wish Callista had snapped you up with a history book or something,” Stiles says, fascinated.
“Or my laptop,” Darcy says. “I keep all the cool footage of shit they do and how many polititians they’ve saved because I’m making a supercut for when the government tries to stick their nose in our business every few years.”
“Smart,” Stiles says. “Have you threatened senators?”
Darcy grins. “Maybe.”
Peter sighs and turns around, walking back down the stairs. “You two are going to make me prematurely grey,” Peter says.
“He already had a few greys when I met him,” Stiles mock whispers to Darcy.
“Hush your mouth or I’m giving Callista all your pizza!” Peter calls back.
“Mama’s Pizza?” Stiles asks, perking up. He turns back to the hole in the ceiling and pulls up his magic, the materials weaving back into place until the hole is completely gone. “Okay, done, you have to try this pizza.”
Callista, eyes vivid green today, has already made off with a slice of Hawaiian by the time Darcy and Stiles get downstairs. The dining room is even more of a mess than before Darcy arrived. Stiles has about two dozen open books strewn across the dining table for his research, so they take their plates of pizza into the living room. Darcy takes one of the bright pink wingback chairs while Stiles and Peter sit next to each other on the black Victorian sofa. Callista sits on the coffee table, eyes sharp, waiting to pounce on any unattended plate.
“Oh my god,” Darcy says after she takes her first bite. “Can I bring a pizza home with me whenever I’m sent back? Holy shit. I’m going to have to look up Beacon Hills and see if it exists back in my dimension. I’d fly to California for this pizza.”
“Please do. And bring Thor if you can. Minister Carson is a big asshole, and she’ll probably shit her pants if an actual god came to town,” Stiles says. “Assuming she exists in your dimension, which I’m guessing she does because cockroaches thrive.”
Later that night, while curled up in bed across the hall from Darcy’s guest room, Peter trails fingers over Stiles’s shoulder while they watch Callista’s eyes tracking one of the floating light orbs, her tail flicking.
“Still no luck with Douglas and Cleo?” Peter asks.
“No,” Stiles says with a sigh. “I’ve reached out to Marin, Gabriela, Yves, even Angele to see if they know anyone who knows anything. They also said they’ll reach out and see.”
“So Marin, a fallen druid; Gabriela and Yves, both psychics; and Angele the naiad,” Peter says. “Any witches other than Cleo?”
“Yeah, Julie in Michigan and Frankie in Boston,” Stiles says. “They have no idea. Esmée got back to New Orleans today so I’m going to call her tomorrow.”
“Mm, good. The sooner she’s back, the better,” Peter says.
Stiles kicks him before snuggling closer. “Be nice. She’s sweet, and it’s not her fault she’s here.”
“I’m not saying I dislike her,” Peter says, running fingers lightly down the column of Stiles’s throat. “I’m saying herding the two of you is worse than babysitting my werewolf nieces and nephews on a sugar high.”
“We are not that bad!” Stiles says.
“Really? I don’t remember having a hole in my roof while watching Derek, Laura, and Cora,” Peter says.
“No, but I know for a fact that Jackie put a huge hole in the side of Talia’s house,” Stiles says. “And they can’t magically fix it like I can. Count your blessings, buddy.”
Darcy wakes up the next morning to Callista lying on the pillow next to her, her face buried in Darcy’s hair. Callista opens her eyes slowly, blinking ice blue at Darcy.
“You’re a strange kitty, yes you are,” Darcy says, scratching under Callista’s chin. Callista purrs, then her blue eyes flash white before a glowing white portal opens on the bed, and a dog with two heads and ruby red eyes walks out. “Oh my god!” Darcy shouts, scrambling back until she’s standing at the head of the bed, the lamp from the nightstand clutched in her hands.
Peter bursts into the guest room a second later, taking in the two-headed dog growling at Darcy and Darcy with the lamp held out in front of her as if she’s going to push it back into the portal. The dog turns to Peter, growls rumbling in its throats. Peter’s eyes flash blue and he lets out a truly impressive roar. The two-headed dog immediately turns and scampers back into the swirling portal, which closes with a flash of rainbow light.
“What...the fuck…,” Darcy says, slowly setting the lamp down and climbing off the bed. She looks at Callista. “I thought we were bros!”
Callista just curls into a ball on Darcy’s pillows and closes her eyes. Darcy turns her attention to Peter instead.
“Thank you,” Darcy says. “I’m usually a dog person, but interdimensional dogs with two heads and glowing red eyes are apparently where I draw the line.”
Peter snorts. “You’re welcome,” he says, then glares at Callista’s sleeping form. “If this is magical puberty, it’s the truly worst kind. And I went through puberty as a werewolf.”
“Was it bad?” Darcy asks, curious despite her still slightly racing heart.
“Not for me, luckily,” Peter says, then wrinkles his nose. “The smell of the entire school’s hormones raging, on the other hand…”
“Ugh, no thanks,” Darcy says. She runs a hand through her messy, tangled hair, and god she needs a shower.
Either she stinks or Peter can tell what she’s thinking. He scoops up Callista, who makes an angry hissing noise until Peter lets her stand on his shoulders, and says, “I’ll take the hellbeast so you can shower in peace.”
“God, yes, thank you,” Darcy says.
She showers quickly and pulls on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt Stiles had lent her. Luckily Stiles has a lot of women friends that stay over, so he was able to magically alter some left behind clothes to fit her while she’s stuck in this dimension. She’s so grateful. It would’ve sucked so bad to wear the same underwear for the last three days in a row.
When Darcy makes it downstairs, Peter’s in the kitchen flipping pancakes while trying to keep Callista away from the stove. He curses under his breath when she snatches a pancake from the stack of finished pancakes, running out the room before he can even put the spatula down.
“She’s very food motivated,” Stiles says, slipping past her and into the kitchen. She manages not to jump, but only just.
“Same, honestly,” Darcy says.
“Peter says she opened a portal on your bed,” Stiles says, leaning against the island with a grimace. “I’m really sorry about that. We try to keep her out of certain rooms but uh, with a magic cat, doors aren’t huge barriers.”
“It’s okay, I know you didn’t send her in there to commit a murder,” Darcy says.
“I called a voodoo practitioner I know and asked if she’s ever dealt with interdimensional shit like this,” Stiles says. “She hasn’t, but she knows someone who has. She’s going to get back to me as soon as she can.”
“Good,” Darcy says, taking a seat at the island. A few moments later, Peter sets a plate with pancakes down in front of her. “God, thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Peter says, before going back to the stove. Callista is trying to sneak in from around the fridge, though Darcy’s reasonably sure Peter knows she’s there.
“Esmée gave me a couple book recommendations to look through, so at least we can do something,” Stiles says.
“Sounds good,” Darcy says through a mouthful of pancake.
Stiles hums under his breath, head tilted slightly to the side. “Peter, Jackie’s here,” he says. He sees Darcy’s confused look and says, “I have wards up that let me know when someone crosses my property boundaries. Peter’s going with his niece to a family thing, but he’ll be back later to help.”
“Oh, okay,” Darcy says. “Have fun?”
“My sister will be there, so we’ll see,” Peter says with a grimace. He gives Stiles a kiss, says goodbye to Darcy, and heads out.
“His sister is a brat,” Stiles says, making Darcy let out a surprised snort of laughter. “I know she’s the alpha of a super powerful pack, but she’s just such a spoiled brat. Her aura is just abrasive. Like sandpaper.”
“You can feel auras?” Darcy asks, leaning forward eagerly. “Doctor Strange refuses to answer whenever I ask if he can see auras.”
“I guess aura is the wrong word. I can see the auras around people if I try, but everyone also has a...feeling about them. Peter’s aura is a hazy blue, but he feels like warmth,” Stiles says, cheeks pinking a bit. It makes Darcy wonder what exactly he’s leaving out.
“What do I feel like?” she asks.
“Bright sunshine on your skin,” Stiles says. “Not the melanoma kind!”
“Oh my god,” Darcy says, laughing. “Thank you for clarifying that I’m not skin cancer.”
They head up to the potion room on the third floor of the turret after breakfast. Stiles has a potion that he needs to stir every fifteen minutes (just so wild to Darcy) so they bring the laptops and books Esmée pointed them to that Stiles already has. Apparently three others are being overnighted from all across the country.
Darcy doesn’t help much with research, honestly. She’s not magic, she doesn’t know what little details Stiles is looking for, so she’s just reading through scanned pages of magic books Stiles’s contacts have sent, occasionally highlighting something she thinks might be helpful.
Darcy stands when they’ve been up in the turret for a few hours, stretching her arms over her head, when a translucent woman in a dark Victorian dress rises from the ground right in front of her. Darcy screams, jumping backwards and knocking over the Monsters, Inc. crockpot and the inky black potion inside it.
“Shit!” Stiles jumps up and waves a hand, and suddenly Darcy is perched on top of a coffee table near the window, away from the spilled potion that’s growing and hardening on the floor to the point where it looks like bulbous, cooled lava right where she was standing. The Victorian woman is gone and Stiles is using his magic to corral the potion and pry it up from the floor.
“I’m sorry!” Darcy calls, that familiar sinking feeling of fucking up settling in her gut.
“No, it’s not your fault. And this wasn’t the important potion, I can remake this in like ten minutes” Stiles says, getting the ruined potion completely off the floor. The floorboards look charred where it had been sitting. He looks up at her with a grimace. “We forgot to mention the ghosts, didn’t we?”
“Yes,” Darcy says, her heart still racing in her chest. “Yes, you forgot to mention the ghosts.”
“Oops?”
Stiles is exhausted. It’s been a hell of a day. After Amelia had scared the shit out of Darcy and he’d cleaned up the potion mess, Stiles and Darcy had decided to take a break and go for a walk in in the preserve to clear their heads. Stiles’s head had felt stuffed with cotton from all the research he’s been doing, and he could still feel the anxiety coming off Darcy in waves since she knocked over the crockpot, despite him promising her it’s fine. He gets it, though. His anxiety is just like that too.
It was a gorgeous day for a walk, and apparently the dryads thought so too and came out to say hello, as they sometimes do. They had chatted for a while, and Darcy had been fascinated, but one of the dryads had liked her just a bit too much and said she wanted to marry her. Stiles had yanked her out of there by the hand, shouting, “NO! We do not marry the fae!”
After that, they’d retreated into the kitchen for a tea break, when Peter’d come home with Thai food. One of the crows that plays tag with the pixies in the garden had followed him in and for some reason homed right in on Darcy. Poor Darcy had to hide in the bathroom off the kitchen until they got the crow outside.
Stiles thinks that perhaps his dimension isn’t thrilled to have a traveler from another reality here.
“Come on, Callista,” Peter says from the other room, voice cajoling.
Stiles pulls himself up from the couch, where he’s been lying with a warm, damp washcloth over his eyes. He follows Peter’s voice into the living room where he has a hunk of salmon held out toward Callista.
“Come on, just one little portal,” Peter says, shaking the salmon a little. “Just a little portal back to her home.”
Callista, though, is immune to bribery. She sits regally with her head tilted to the side, like she’s thinking it over, and as soon as Peter scents a hint of a victory, Callista darts forward, snatching the salmon right out of his hand. In seconds, she’s disappearing into the kitchen, probably into one of her favorite nooks to enjoy one of her favorite foods.
Stiles tries very hard to swallow his laughter, but doesn’t quite manage. Peter sighs, standing and wiping his salmony hand on a napkin from the dining table.
“Trying to bribe a familiar is never going to go in your favor,” Stiles says, grinning.
“I was hoping she liked me enough to consider it,” Peter says. He wraps an arm around Stiles, pulling him close. “Is Darcy upstairs?”
“Yeah, I gave her a bit of the sleeping draught I brewed for Lydia so she could get some sleep,” Stiles says. “She didn’t say it, but I think she’s a bit overwhelmed.”
“A ghost jumped out in front of her, a fae in another dimension wanted to marry her and drag her into yet another dimension, then she gets attacked by a pixie-chasing crow,” Peter says. “I think it’s fair to say that’s a rough day.”
“We really are just terrible, terrible hosts,” Stiles says, resting his head on Peter’s chest.
Peter snorts. “Maybe she’s a terrible houseguest,” Peter says.
Stiles mock gasps, putting a hand over his heart. “How dare you talk about our new daughter that way?”
“If we ever have a daughter, we are not naming her Darcy,” Peter says.
“I happen to know your middle name,” Stiles reminds him. “People in Palmerston-shaped houses shouldn’t throw name stones.”
Peter glares. “How dare you.”
Stiles had been hoping for a full night of sleep after such a ridiculous day, but those hopes don’t last long. Stiles’s phone ringing wakes him up at four in the blessed morning, and the only reason he answers is because it’s Esmée.
“It’s four a.m., Esmée,” Stiles rasps. Peter groans next to him, stuffing his head under his pillow.
“It’s six here,” Esmée says, her voice bright and cheery.
“Wonderful,” Stiles says, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Does that mean you don’t want a solution to your little problem?” Esmée sing-songs.
Peter pushes the pillow off his head. Stiles opens his eyes. “You found something?”
“Henri’s husband’s cousin’s mother-in-law’s sister is a practitioner and has some experience with dimension-jumping beings,” Esmée says. Stiles’s brain hurts even thinking about that. “She has a spell designed to send them back to their place of origin, but it only works because dimension jumping is a natural ability of theirs, so you’ll probably have to tweak it a bit.”
“That’s perfect!” Stiles says. “I can absolutely work with that. Esmée, as always, you’re a goddess of a human being.”
“So good of you to notice,” she says.
“I’m sending you a gift basket,” Stiles says. “Expect fruit and charms.”
“Oh good! Charlotte loves that emerald alligator you sent. She never takes it out of her pocket.”
Stiles grins. “I’ve been working on an amethyst nutria she might enjoy.”
“You’re a doll.”
Stiles hangs up with a sigh, his brain whirling.
“I’m assuming you have an idea?” Peter asks. He has pillow crease lines on his cheek. Stiles grins and reaches out, tracing one of them.
“I do,” Stiles says. “Depending on what the spell is, I think I can modify it to intercept the bifrost. Since Darcy doesn’t have natural dimension-jumping abilities but the bifrost helped her get here, I think we can send her back that way.”
“Thank god,” Peter says.
Stiles flicks his chest. “She’s nice,” he says.
“She is,” Peter says, catching Stiles’s fingers before he can flick him again. “But in four days the two of you blew a hole in the roof, almost had a fae wedding, and nearly melted the floor. I look forward to sleeping in again.”
Stiles snorts. “Smartass,” he says. He leans over, kissing Peter’s cheek (neither are fans of morning breath) before rolling out of bed. Now that he has a potential spell, there’s no way he’ll be able to get back to sleep, not with the ideas chasing each other around in his mind.
Peter groans. “If only Esmée had called a couple hours later,” he says, sitting up.
“You don’t have to get up,” Stiles says.
“I know,” Peter says, pulling on his pretentious silky bathrobe. “But I like starting my mornings with you.”
Stiles can’t fight the wide grin on his face. He’s coming up on a year with Peter, and it’s been the best year of a relationship he’s ever had, but Peter still manages to make the butterflies in his stomach flutter. Stiles’s scent must be clueing Peter in on what he’s thinking, because Peter’s face softens as he tugs Stiles to him, running a hand gently up the side of his throat.
“Yes, I love you enough to brave four in the morning for you,” Peter says, pressing a kiss to his temple. “Don’t tell anyone. I have an image to maintain.”
Stiles still has to wait for Esmée to email her friend’s husband’s cousin’s mother-in-law’s sister’s spell (he can’t imagine how annoying it was for magic users to share information before the internet), so he brews Peter’s favorite coffee while Peter’s in the shower. Stiles usually doesn’t eat until he’s been up for a few hours, but he has the feeling it’s about to be a research-heavy day, so he scrambles some eggs with whatever veggies he has in the fridge. They really need to grocery shop soon.
The eggs are only halfway done when Stiles’s phone buzzes. He grabs his phone and opens up the email from Esmée, absentmindedly stirring the eggs as he reads. Yeah, it’ll take some effort, but he can totally work with this. He sets the phone aside and goes back to the eggs, putting them on a deep blue plate with a chipped corner because he knows it makes Peter’s eye twitch.
Darcy wakes up after ten in the morning, which feels fantastic. (She wonders if she’d be able to take some of Stiles’s sleeping draught back with her.) Even better, Callista isn’t in here this morning, so Darcy doesn’t have to immediately defend against some demon bullshit coming through a magic portal.
She takes a long shower because she can before dressing and opening the bedroom door, nearly shrieking in surprise. There's a sheet of printer paper being held up by one of the bobbing light orbs, a message written in Stiles's messy handwriting. She gently plucks it from the orb, which lightly bumps into her shoulder before drifting back to the ceiling.
The note is written in Sharpie and says Come into the office when you're up and ready. I have french toast, orange juice, and a spell that might send you home.
Darcy nearly trips over her own feet running down the hall to the entrance of Stiles's office. The door's open, Stiles sitting criss-cross on the floor in front of the couch. He has open books spread around him and his laptop on his knees. He looks up with a grin when she bounces off the doorframe in her haste to get in.
"You found something?" Darcy asks.
"My voodoo friend did," Stiles says. "It's not perfect, but I can adapt it. It's just taking some research and tinkering."
"Not gonna lie, the use of 'tinkering' is making me nervous," Darcy says.
Stiles winces. "Poor word choice," he says. "Adjusting. It takes some adjusting."
"Less anxiety inducing," Darcy says.
"You should eat. There's french toast on the desk," he says, nodding toward the turret.
Darcy walks over to the desk, and sure enough there's a steaming stack of french toast and a bottle of syrup. Callista, with neon yellow eyes today, is sitting on the desk and glaring at the plate.
"It's warded to keep it hot and keep Callista from getting at it," Stiles calls from the couch.
Darcy snorts, pouring on the syrup before picking up the plate and walking back, settling in the corner of the couch Stiles is sitting against.
"I've met a lot of cats, and she is the absolute best at stealing food," Darcy says.
Stiles laughs. "Yeah, she's kind of an asshole like that," he says.
"Can I do anything to help, or just stay out of the way?" Darcy asks.
"Nothing for now, I will need some details from you at some point though if you don't mind hanging around."
"Not at all," Darcy says, then moans at the first bite of french toast. "This is so fucking good, oh my god."
Stiles grins. "I can cook like three things, and one of those is french toast," he says. "I'm lucky to have Peter or I'd probably live on cereal and takeout."
Stiles goes back to bouncing between books, using magic to float three in front of his face at once while taking notes on his laptop. He gives Darcy permission to read from the books he isn't using, and she gets sucked into a fascinating essay from a 19th century witch about the ethics of love potions, basically chewing out everyone who still thought they were acceptable.
"Bifrost question," Stiles says, interrupting an anecdote about the witch threatening to curse a detractor into oblivion. "You made it sound like bifrost travel isn't instantaneous. How long does it take?"
Darcy hums as she considers it. "It depends a bit on distance, but usually somewhere between twenty seconds to a minute," Darcy says. "Why?"
"Because this spell will intercept the bifrost when it's being used and send you back," Stiles says, making her heart leap. "I needed to make sure it wasn't, like, a split second thing or it'd be really hard to navigate, but I can work with twenty to sixty seconds."
Stiles's voice trails off as he gets sucked back into his notes, and Darcy doesn't interrupt. She tries to swallow down her excitement and hope. As fun as magic and werewolves are, she really doesn't want to stay in this dimension permanently. She really misses Jane. She misses Thor, and Bucky, and even Tony.
Stiles asks her questions every half hour or so, either verifying his understanding of something she said or asking for more bifrost details. They break for a late lunch around 2:00 in the afternoon, which is also when Peter comes back from work.
"Hello love," Peter says, kissing Stiles's temple as he moves past him to set down his briefcase on the dining table. "Any progress?"
"Yeah," Stiles says, swallowing the last bite of his sandwich. "I actually should be done by the end of the day."
"Thank god," Peter says.
"Hey!" Darcy says, not thrilled with his tone.
"Be nice," Stiles says, flicking Peter's hip.
"It's nothing against you," Peter says. "I'm just looking forward to less Callista-induced chaos."
"I resent being called chaos, for the record," Darcy says, taking a bite of her sandwich. "Though I'm glad you're blaming the right party."
They all look up at Callista, perched on top of one of the large stacks of books on the dining table. She just blinks her yellow eyes at them.
"Speaking of," Darcy says. "What are the odds she opens a portal in my living room and sucks me right back here in like a week?"
"Long odds. She's never opened a portal to the same thing twice as far as we know," Peter says.
"Plus we'll know how to send you back," Stiles says. "So you wouldn't be stranded here for days again."
"Good," Darcy says. "I hope Jane's watering my plants…"
They get back to work, this time with Peter on the other side of the couch. It takes a few more hours before Stiles claps his hands, some sparks jumping from his hands as he does.
"Done! One spell for sending Darcy Lewis back to her own dimension," Stiles says. "Well, technically it's going to send you back to where you're from, and since magic can be wonky, you might be sent back to whenever you were born."
"That's fine with me," Darcy says. Virginia isn't that far from New York. "I can call a flying friend or Tony for a jet or something."
"God, that's so cool," Stiles mutters. "Okay, so this spell intercepts the bifrost to get you back to your dimension, then sends you home. I'll need to paint the ritual circle, which is what you'll step into to get back. In order for it to work, the bifrost needs to be active. I'll set up an alarm so we'll know when the bifrost is in use and can hustle you to the circle."
"This is gonna work?" Darcy says, unable to hide the excitement in her voice.
"I'm one hundred percent sure," Stiles says. "You'll be back to superhero friends and genius scientists in no time."
Except that's not quite how it goes. Stiles gets the circle painted with a bunch of runes Darcy has no hope of remembering, and gets the alarm set up (a loud chime and flash of light when the bifrost is in use), but actually getting there in time is a challenge.
The first time the loud chime goes off, Darcy's in the middle of peeing. She curses, flushing and dashing out of the bathroom. She has the clothes she came with and a bottle of Stiles's sleeping draught ready in a tote he'd given her, and by the time she grabs it and runs to Stiles's office, the light from the circle has faded, signaling the bifrost is no longer in use. She sighs long and loudly, then jumps when Stiles slides into the room on socked feet.
“Damn it!” he says. “Oh well. We’ll try next time.”
“Yeah,” Darcy says. “Maybe we shouldn’t have put it on the second floor if we’re making dinner on the first.”
“...Good point. Okay, takeout in the office it is!” Stiles says.
They order from Mama’s Pizza because Darcy also wants to take leftovers back with her (Jane needs to try this pizza) and bring it back to Stiles’s office on the second floor. They eat on the couch, staring across the room at the rune circle painted on the floor.
“Is that gonna come off?” Darcy asks between bites.
“Yeah, I’ve got a magic scrub thing that’ll take it off,” Stiles says. Darcy nods, taking another bite, then snorts. “What?” Stiles asks.
“I was just thinking about how Jane’s head is going to explode when I tell her magic cats can create the portals in like two seconds when she’s been struggling for years,” Darcy says, making Stiles laugh. “It’s probably good this is a one-way trip only. She’d try to get back and interrogate Callista.”
“Peter would develop a permanent eye twitch,” Stiles says, grinning.
“Oh so that’s a new, Darcy-related addition?” she says.
“Nah, it’s a Callista thing,” Stiles says. “I don’t think he really grasped how chaotic it would be dating me.”
“He seems to handle it well,” Darcy says. “And it’s obvious he just loves the shit outta you.”
Stiles blushes, which Darcy thinks is just adorable. A man with magic that can literally span dimensions, and he blushes because his boyfriend is so infatuated with him.
“I lucked out with him. You wouldn’t believe the kind of weirdos who are attracted to powerful witches for all the wrong reasons,” he says, scrunching up his nose.
Darcy’s about to answer when the chime goes off again, the circle lighting up. Darcy jumps up, grabs the tote and the pizza box, and then the light dims again.
“What the fuck?” Darcy says. “That was like four seconds! Heimdall, if you’re fucking with me, I swear to god…”
Peter joins them a few hours later, bringing up a bottle of wine.
“It pairs well with pepperoni,” he says seriously, then winks when she stares a bit too long trying to figure out if he’s kidding.
“You joke but I’ll have you know that boxed wine is perfect with take-and-bake pizza,” Darcy says. Peter looks physically pained at that, making Stiles laugh.
“Oh, I forgot!” Stiles says, dashing out of the room. He’s back in just a few seconds, which really is another point for her theory that Stiles can apparate like Harry Potter. “Here,” he says, handing over a cell phone.
“A phone?” she asks, looking at him blankly.
Stiles looks a bit sheepish, rubbing the back of his head. “I got the idea from the Doctor Strange phone you talked about,” he says. “This should be like a two-way interdimensional phone. If I did it right, we can text and maybe even call. If, you know, you’re interested in keeping in touch.”
Darcy gapes for a second, then jumps up to give him a hug. He sags against her like he’s relieved, hugging her back.
“Dude, you are so cool. Doctor Strange is going to be so jealous,” Darcy says. Stiles beams at that.
The third time the circle lights up, a little after midnight, they’re actually ready, but Callista digs her claws into Darcy’s thigh and absolutely refuses to let go. Stiles eventually pries her off but by the time that’s done, the circle is once again dormant.
Stiles glares down at Callista, who looks completely unrepentant. “You’re acting really fucking bratty, you know that?” Callista just licks her paw and starts grooming herself. Darcy really hopes Callista doesn’t kidnap her again as soon as she gets home.
Eventually it gets late enough that Darcy dozes off, curled up in the corner of the couch. She’s dreaming about flying through the bifrost with Callista strapped to her chest in a baby bjorn, when she hears the chime. She jerks awake, Stiles and Peter doing the same next to her. She scrambles up and grabs the tote, then the pizza box Stiles shoves her way, and runs into the center of the circle.
“Text me when you get there!” Stiles says. “Feel free to visit!”
“Do not,” Peter says, but he’s smiling. “Fly safe.”
“Thanks for housing me and helping me get back!” Darcy says.
“Anytime, superhero girl,” Stiles says.
Stiles looks down at the sheet of paper in front of him and starts reading the spell. It’s in a language Darcy’s never heard before and can’t even guess at, but the light from the ritual circle grows brighter as he speaks, little spots of rainbows dancing at the edges. By the time he’s done, she’s surrounded by it and can’t even see them. Then there’s a jerking feeling, like she’s being yanked upwards. Darcy can’t help the surprised yelp she lets out, but it’s like the sound dies right in front of her.
The feeling of being yanked upwards very quickly lasts for ten nauseating seconds, then she’s in what looks exactly like the bifrost, bright light all around her. Barely a moment later she hits the ground, toppling over onto her butt, but still keeping hold of the tote bag and pizza box. She blinks, eyes adjusting to the sudden change in brightness. The ritual circle is glowing in the grass around her, slowly fading before her eyes. When she looks around, she sees she’s right next to a sign that says “Welcome to Cheapeake!” next to a relatively quiet road.
“Fuck yes,” Darcy says, pulling herself to her feet. She digs her phone out of her pocket and sees her service is back, and she has over a hundred missed calls and texts. She dials Jane, nearly sobbing in relief when Jane picks up immediately.
“Darcy! Oh my god, we’ve been so worried! What happened? Where are you?” Jane says, and yep, those are sobs Darcy can hear. Before she can answer, she hears shuffling and loud voice on the other end of the line, then a loud “OW!” which means someone got hit with Jane’s sharp elbows. “Hold on, I’m putting you on speaker,” Jane says. “There, Thor, Bucky, and Tony wanted to hear your voice.”
“Proof of life!” Darcy says. She waves cheerily to a car that slows down, looking worried. They nod and drive on when she signals she’s fine. “It’s a really long story but can you please send a car or plane or flying superhero to Chesapeake so I can come home?”
“On it,” Tony says. “We’re hopping on a quinjet in two minutes. What are—why does JARVIS say you’re on the side of a highway?”
“Because I’m on the side of a highway,” Darcy says. “It’s part of that whole ‘long story’ thing.”
“We’ll be there soon, doll,” says Bucky, his voice warm. “Thor flew out the second JARVIS had your location so he’ll probably beat us there.”
Darcy grins. “Well, I have interdimensional pizza, so if you guys want some before Thor and I eat it all, I’d step on it.”
Stiles and Peter stare at the ritual circle, the glow fading as Darcy disappears. Callista whines mournfully, staring at the floor.
“You’d better not summon her back here,” Peter says sternly, pointing down at her. She doesn’t acknowledge him. “I don’t suppose Esmée knows anything about Callista’s magical puberty issues?”
“Not that she said,” Stiles says. The phone he’d enchanted for himself to contact Darcy buzzes in his hand, and he almost drops it fumbling to unlock it.
It’s a picture of Darcy sitting on grass next to a large blond man that Stiles recognizes as Thor from the pictures she’d shown them. They’re both grinning with slices of pizza in their mouths, giving the camera a thumbs up.
The text from her reads Made it back to my dimension! Thor loves the pizza. Thanks for getting me back!
Stiles grins and turns the phone for Peter to see. Callista jumps up into Peter’s arms, staring at the screen. She bats at Darcy’s face, and Stiles quickly pulls the phone away in case she has any ideas about summoning her through the phone or anything just as ridiculous. Callista jumps down from Peter’s arms in a huff.
“I’m glad she made it back,” Peter says. “It’s good she ended up at the city limits and not in the hospital room she was born in. That’d be quite a scene.”
“Oh god, I don’t even want to imagine it,” Stiles says, then the phone in his hand buzzes again.
He recognizes everyone in this picture too. Iron Man, Bucky, and Jane have all joined Darcy and Thor
“This is going to be such a brag at the International Witches and Warlocks Convention next year,” Stiles says. “I have an interdimensional penpal in a superhero dimension. Eat shit, Morgana.”
Callista meows from near the office door and a second later, another portal opens, and a small green being with antennae and big black eyes comes tumbling out.
“NO, NO MORE ALIENS!”