diecinueve

"Thank you. I appreciate your kind words very much."

Stiles watched as Violeta shook hands with yet another person. He felt awkward sitting beside her, his left leg bouncing up and down in the itchy black suit. Violeta was wearing a modest black dress that Tomei had supplied. A guy called Luis had come and taken charge of her hair and did a little make-up since she looked pale and half-dead. Stiles scowled at that but Violeta half-smiled.

Lola's birthday had been yesterday and Stiles had managed to drag Violeta there. He had bought the rollerblades which Lola had immediately frowned at him, saying they weren't ice-skates. As he tried to explain that it was the same thing she called him a stupido which he wasn't sure was correct. Then he mentioned they light up and play music and Lola got excited and was adamant to put them on.

With a laugh, Violeta had crouched down and helped open the box. Stiles joined and together they had managed to get the roller-blades onto the birthday girl who spent the rest of her birthday on skating around. It was odd and surreal; attending a party hosted by Rico Lopez. For family members. It wasn't even him crashing a house party (as if that would ever happen) but it was just another surreal moment for the freckled teenager.

Watching Lola do some turns, a paper plate of barbecued chicken and paella in his hand as Violeta came up to hand him a can of drink, he had then caught her staring at him oddly.

"What?" He had asked. "Is there something on my face?" He asked and then began rubbing his face to get rid of whatever had been on his face. He had begun checking his teeth when Violeta asked how he knew her shoe size.

"Oh, I asked Rico at school."

Stiles couldn't make sense of the smile Violeta gave him.

Now, Stiles was with her at her grandmother's funeral. A funeral which doubled as a political meeting as the entire community had come to visit and see the person who now taken the place of abuela Maria. If he was being honest, Stiles felt like it was that scene in the Godfather. Although it could have just been because him and Violeta had watched it only two days ago.

"Feel like Al Pacino?" Violeta said, leaning into him to whisper as she waited for the next person in line to come and offer their condolences.

"And she says she doesn't read minds." Stiles said. At that moment, Rico walked up with Lola in tow. Violeta stood up once more and dapped him, patting him on the shoulder. Stiles, actually knowing who this person was, stood up to shake his hand. Rico, however, 'dapped' him the same way Violeta had done. Stiles wasn't expecting his and there was an awkward fumble followed by an awkward silence with Violeta diffused laughter.

"Still white as shit." Rico said with a grin and patted Stiles on the shoulder. "Thanks for taking care of her, man."

Stiles nodded and patted Rico on the shoulder. It was then that Lola wrapped her arms around Stiles' leg. "STILES!" She hugged him tight.

"Come on Lola." Rico said, holding out his hand.

"No! I want Stiles!"

"Lola!" Rico snapped.

"She's fine." Stiles waved. He held out his hands and she jumped into his arms. "Violeta and I had to leave her party early anyway." Rico nodded, glancing between him and Violeta, the latter who was busy with some elderly man who was speaking to her in a dialect of Spanish Stiles couldn't at all understand. Rico gave sad smile, told Lola to be good then, told Stiles' he'd see him later as he walked off.

Violeta and I...

He had spoken on Violeta's behalf, in regards to both of them.

That's what his life had come to.

When Violeta told him the funeral was today and asked if he could come, he had been surprised. Surprised because he hadn't caught wind of any of the planning or that it would be today. Yet he got the call from Violeta and rushed to look for a suit and look respectable as he drove to the cemetery. When she saw him, held his hand and refused to let go.

It really was a scene from The Godfather.

He had recognised the sneakers, jeans and blazer combo of the faces of people he'd seen in school or in his father's files after booking them. But there were also the many, many, many families of the Latin American population. There were kids forced there, dressed in black, there were elderly people being pushed in their wheelchairs. It was as if half of Beacon Hills had turned up... as well as many people who had travelled from outside.

There was a few camera flashes before the funeral had started but after seeing a group of guys, D-Bo included in the group, stalk up to the trees, there was no more camera flashes.

Stiles wanted to drift into the sea of people, hoping to keep it low-key and maybe sit with his dad who went to pick up Scott and Melissa. He didn't expect Violeta to keep him beside her in every second of the funeral. When Violeta was called forth by the priest, Stiles decided to take a break and see if he could go sit somewhere else when Tomei stopped him.

"You need to be there with Violeta."

"Can't you?" Stiles said. "Like, you're actually a part of the family? I'm just some random kid who only met her one."

"No, I, uh," Tomei said. "I can't."

"Why?"

"I'm half Italian." Tomei said with a grim look. Stiles' eyes bulged out their sockets. If Tomei, Violeta's guardian, wasn't allowed up front because she was half Italian and not of Spanish blood... what the hell was he doing?

"Hello?" Stiles waved a frantic hand to himself. "White kid here!"

"Look, besides from the fact that Violeta needs you," Tomei said, "people need to see you with her." Stiles opened his mouth but Tomei just clamped it shut with her mouth. "Trust me, it will make sense later but please, just be there with her, for her."

Alas, Stiles had shaken so many people's hands, accepted so many condolences he didn't believe he deserved. He had tried to not be awkward when he held out his arm for Violeta who accepted it with a gracious look as he had walked with her in the front, directly behind the coffin, to bury Maria's body.

Now, he sat beside her as people came to offer their condolences. Tomei stood behind them, close but still at a distance. There were a few others with them that Violeta had told him their names but not how they were related, not exactly having time before people kept coming with their condolences of "mi más sentido pésame" and "te acompaño en el sentimiento."

Quite a few people had given him an odd look, wondering who he was and why he was here, next to Violeta. You and me both, he wanted to say. Except, all he could offer them was his hand as they held out theirs.

Holding Lola had made it slightly easier for a while. He supposed it showed that he at least had some connection to being here right now. Even if people just thought he was the white babysitter hired to take care of the children.

Stiles looked up from Lola who was playing with his tie when he felt Violeta hug the person who had come up. He blinked when he realised it was his father. Stiles shifted Lola onto one arm as he stood up to greet his father. He glanced around, wondering what on Earth she was doing, hugging the Sheriff in front of so many people who could judge her for it. Stiles even glanced back at Tomei who shook her head, apparently telling him it would be fine.

"I, uh, I'm truly sorry for you loss." His father said as he pulled back. "Me and everyone from the department."

"Thank you." Violeta said. "That's very kind of you."

Noah Stilinski moved to greet his son and smiled see the small child in his hands. "Oh, who's this?" He asked.

"Ice Cub say fuck tha police!"

"Oh my God!" Stiles said, clamping a hand down on Lola's mouth as Noah frowned and looked at his son's panicked eyes. "She, uh, she meant ice cubes are, um they're for ducks—"

"Sorry, Noah, her brother Rico is a big N.W.A fan." Violeta said, a faint smile on her face. "Lola, we said no bad words." The young child mumbled against Stiles' hand. He promptly moved it when Violeta looked at him. 'Oh, er, right—"

"He bad man." Lola cried, pointing at John who looked properly comfortable and out of place.

"No, he's a good man." Violeta said, moving to place a hand on John's shoulder. "This is Stiles dad."

After hearing that, Lola's face lit up and she moved her hands from Stiles' neck to hold them out for John. "Papa Stiles!" Noah looked at Violeta who nodded and took the child in his hands. "I'm hungry! Do you have Skittles?" John frowned and turned to Stiles who reached into his own pocket and pulled out a red packet, having prepared for this earlier.

"She likes the red ones." He told his dad.

Next came Scott and Melissa. Stiles saw Violeta sigh as the older woman wasn't sure to go for the hug or shake hands. Hands was a bit too formal but were they close enough for a hug? Stiles looked down at his feet to stop from smiling too bight when Violeta took charge and embraced the woman, thanking her for everything she had done for her grandmother. When the older woman then moved to Stiles, she pursed her lips.

"Only because of circumstance." She said. "I'm still standing by my Stiles ban." This caught Violeta's ears who had just given Scott a quick hug also and thanked him for his condolences. She frowned at him as the werewolf's eyes grew and his cheeks grew red.

"Stiles ban?" Violeta asked.

"Oh, nothing for you to worry about." Melissa said. "These two were just being incredibly stupid and hurt Jackson Whittemore." At the information was processed, Stiles became sheepish and rubbed the back of his neck as Violeta stared at him.

"What happened?"

"Should I tell her?" Melissa asked, looking at Stiles who looked like he wanted to run away. "These two bozos thought it would be funny to steal a criminal transport unit and lock Jackson in it! They have a restraining order placed on them!" With that last part, she hit the back of Scott's head.

The call of 'señorita' made Violeta tear her eyes away and look at the elderly lady making her way on a walking stick to her. She gave the three of them a look then told Stiles in a quiet voice, "We'll talk about this later," before going to the old woman and embracing her, allowing her to press a kiss to Violeta's forehead.

Stiles leaned his head back and groaned. Scott patted him on the shoulder, sympathy very clear on his face. "I'm gonna die." Stiles said.

"Good." Melissa said, crossing her arms. Stiles moved his head back upright and stared at the nurse who smiled and walked off with Scott.

"I didn't know that Beacon Hills had its own pack of wolves." Stiles' head snapped at the smooth voice that spoke, his eyes meeting a tall man jet-black hair, sharp blue eyes and a smirk on his face. He wore a clean-cut suit that made his feel like he bought it from some cheap, second-hand store. Which he had. Well Tomei had But that was beside the point.

"Damon, Stefan," Violeta spoke, "I didn't know you had made it."

"Well Maria's saved my ass a few times." The man that had spoken Damon said, "And she made killer tapas." He winked as he kissed her hand. "Pun intended."

The man behind him sighed. "I would ask that you excuse my brother's behaviour. He often puts people into coffins that he forgets that people that mourn."

Stiles looked at the other guy, Stefan, who had spoken. He noted the differences, the brown hair, the lighter eyes that were a mix of green and brown. He didn't look at all similar to his brother but Stiles knew Damon and Stefan were brothers. Just as he knew they were Damon and Stefan Salvatore, the vampire brothers who were turned in 1864 by Katherine Pierce.

Vampires. He was standing with vampires.

Tomei stepped forward, her arm brushing his. He looked at her and saw the look on her face. She knew.

"It's okay." Violeta dismissed, shaking Stefan's hand. "I heard there is no more Ripper Stefan Salvatore."

"Yes, brother has gone soft." Damon said, a sardonic smile. "We're waiting for the day the woodland creatures band together against him."

"I've heard vegetarians live longer." Violeta said.

"Well it's a good thing I'm immortal." Damon said with a smirk at her. Stiles felt himself inching closer to her. He knew that Damon was a vampire and could probably kill him in ten seconds if he wanted to. Violeta was more powerful in that respect. But Stiles still found himself siding up to her because he knew the reputation of womaniser attached to the Salvatore bothers and the fact that Damon was eyeing Violeta up.

"Damon, Stefan, I'd like to introduce you to someone." Violeta said the usual phrase she did when she was going to introduce him to a particular person or distant relative he'd soon forget. However, this, of course, was different.

"This is Stiles Stilinski. Stiles, this is Damon and Stefan Salvatore. They're—"

"-vampires." Stiles said, finishing her sentence to show that he knew. Stefan raised an eyebrow, looking at Violeta whilst Damon was still smirking at the pair.

"Stiles is Batman." Was her explanation. Stiles felt the blush creep up his neck that she had told a renowned vampire such as the Salvatores that he was Batman. This could not be happening. "By the way, Derek Hale is somewhere around. Please don't kill him." Violeta thought about it then added. "Please don't kill anyone at all."

"But if you see this guy called Isaac Lahey. He's about yay high and is probably going to be wearing some leather jacket. A fake leather jacket— ow, what was that for?" Stiles grabbed the arm that Violeta had punched. Quite hard. He turned back to Damon, seeing as he'd made the most reference to murder. "Remember, leather jacket."

"Sorry kid, I'm trying to get into your girl's good graces since I'm also here trying to get her help."

Stiles became flustered at Violeta being called his girlfriend. It was a fair call since he'd been with her since the funeral started and her hand had been in his for a good majority of the time. He was about to start denying it when Violeta squeezed his hand and looked at the vampire expectant.

"Are you able to wait?"

"This is more of... a commencing friendship." Stefan chimed in. "We're been having a lot of... trouble recently in Mystic Falls and we were hoping to figure out a way to get in contact with you without having to come here every time."

"Not that we don't love seeing your beautiful face." Damon said. "But perhaps an email every so often. Just to say hey." He added with a dramatic shrug that Stiles snorted at.

"How about you find Derek Hale, tell him you're sorry for screwing his sister and tell him I said he can give you my number." She said. Stiles wanted to laugh hearing this guy had one-upped Derek but realised that this vampire would then be seeing Isaac.

"Hey, uh," Stiles grabbed Damon's arm as he began to walk off, "remember, Lahey, Isaac Lahey. Fake leather jacket."

Damon's eyes then landed on Tomei next to him. He held out his, leaning slightly as if he were about to offer her a dance at a ball. Stiles realised he was waiting for her hand, wanting to kiss it like he did with Violeta's.

"Keep walking Chachi." Tomei said, not even giving him a chance as her snapped her fingers for him to move along.

"They seem nice." Stiles said after a beat. "For, you know, vampires."

"I'm pretty sure I've seen Damon rip the heart out a guy." Tomei mused. Stiles let out a small 'oh.' Then his eyes bulged, "Wait was it like just the heart or did all the little veins come with it? And why wouldn't you just decapitate? Surely that's... cleaner. A lot less blood."

Violeta stared at Stiles who was gesturing to her aunt, unable to comprehend how this boy heard that the man he had shook hands with had ripped the hearts out beings yet hadn't run screaming. Stiles continued to discuss the more 'intelligent' ways to kill someone, demonstrating the hypothetical if he were to kill Lahey, when she smiled at this innocent, white boy with really pretty brown eyes who didn't realise he was still holding her hand and had been the only reason she'd been able to do anything in the past few weeks.

Love is life.

Life is love.

-

"What are you doing?"

"Social experiment."

Stiles stared at Tomei who sat at the kitchen bench. Around her was a forest of vine leaves. She had apparently washed each leaf and lay them out to dry, as if it were laundry. In front of her was a gigantic tray and two even larger saucepans. He noted how she grabbed a leaf from a stack on the tray, pulled a small handful of rice from one of the saucepans, placed it in the lower part of the leaf and then rolled and wrapped it up into a nice, tight cylinder. She then moved the vine-leaf wrapped rice burrito thing she had made into the other saucepan. Stiles watched as she pulled another leaf from her stack and began repeating the process.

"Oh, you mean the rice and leaves?" She asked. Stiles gave her an obvious look. She laughed, understanding him now. "Oh, yeah social experiment. Come take a seat. Help a brother out." Stiles wasn't sure what to do but she kicked out a chair and he felt obliged to sit down.

"Wait no go wash your hands first." He flinched as she snapped her command at him as he reached for a leaf. Blinking in shock, he stood up to wash his hands at sink behind him. Dry towelling the, Tomei explained that, "We're gonna eat this."

"What is... this?" He asked once more, hoping for a more elaborate answer than social experiment.

"This is Vi's favourite food. It's got many names. Dolma, dolmades, sarma, warak enab." Tomei said, holding up a perfectly rolled up one for him to see.

"It's not... is it Spanish?"

"This? No. It's got it's roots in Greek, Lebanese, Turkish cuisine. If I quote the wikipedia page, 'Dolma is a family of stuffed vegetable dishes common in the Mediterranean cuisine and surrounding regions including the Balkans, the Caucasus, Russia, Central Asia and Middle East.'" Tomei said, apparently quoting the wikipedia page. Stiles had gotten used to the fact that she had an amazing memory that he was sure was photographic or eidetic. "Basically, a lot of the ethnicities have some variation of stuffed dishes like this."

"But not Latin American?" Stiles asked. "Then how come it's Vio's favourite." The nickname slipped out and Tomei paused as she pulled another leaf to her. Stiles froze but all she did was smile and continue her movements.

"Her grandpa, Maria's husband, used to make it." Tomei explained. She then turned to Stiles with sly smile. "He wasn't Spanish."

"What?" Stiles asked, knowing how odd it was for someone in the family to not be something that was from a Spanish speaking country. It was like the sign or membership of belonging. Tomei, being half Italian and raised there, speaking only Italian and no Spanish, was looked down by the elderly for it. If you were Latin American, meaning you spoke French or Portuguese, you were accepted on the basis that you spoke Spanish as well. It due to years of traditions passed down that being wary of an outsider had lead to such exclusivity. People such as D-Bo and UG were accepted by the younger ones due to shared life experience, but they wouldn't often be invited to many communal events.

It was why Stiles felt like such an outsider. At the funeral, being seen with Violeta, his skin many shades too light, Spanish much too broken and 'un-authentic' and his name had Anglo-Saxon origins. Meaning: white.

But abuela Maria had married someone that wasn't Spanish.

"Where was he from?" Stiles asked.

She didn't answer him. Instead, she placed a leaf in front of his shocked still form and brought a hand to her his. She placed it in the saucepan full of rice and scooped a decent amount into his hands. Normally, he would've felt weird with someone touching him. He would've been awkward and clumsy that Violeta's aunt was doing this. But now, after everything, he had gotten used to Tomei's ways, getting comfortable with the way she did things; even being able to relate to her sarcasm and sense of humour.

"Here, you take a small amount like this," she moved his hand back, "and place it in a somewhat decent and organised line." She moved to pull another leaf in front of her and scooped some rice onto the one in front of her, "Okay, now copy what I'm doing. First, you fold the bottom up like this." Stiles moved his hands forward and did the same as she had done. "Okay, then you fold the sides," he folded the sides, struggling to keep it all neat and tight like hers, "and then roll it up. If the tip of the leaf keeps sticking out, put your finger into that small cup of water and dab it onto the inside of the leaf."

He found that he needed to do that extra step, not as skilled as Tomei. After he finished the first one, he picked it up and let out a small sigh of relief when the rice didn't fall out. "See, a natural." Tomei grinned at him. "Took me a while to get."

"Did Vio's grandpa teach you?" Stiles asked, bringing the conversation back to the previous topic. Tomei smiled once more at the nickname as she passed him a leaf.

"No," Tomei said with a laugh, "I actually never really spent time with Joey. This was an old Egyptian woman called Farida who taught me while I was on a missio- working in Sharm el-Sheikh." Stiles noted her slip up and raised an eyebrow. "Music! Farida always used to play music. Let me get my phone." Stiles watched Tomei shoot out her seat. She stood up and wiped her hands on the towel thrown over her shoulder so she could tap on her phone.

Guitar chords began playing from the speakers. Stiles enjoyed the atmosphere they brought, the sound of the Middle Eastern oud. He nodded his head until the two instruments playing together formed a familiar tune that had Stiles frowning.

"Is this from The Godfather?"

"What? It has a nice score." Tomei said with a careless shrug. Stiles blew out an exhale and shook his head, laughing. He had seen it recently, Violeta being adamant to watch the first two - the third didn't exist in her opinion - one night when she couldn't sleep. Stiles, knowing she wouldn't like to be alone, got up to make them coffee and returned as the famous opening scene of Marlon Brando in the darkly lit office was playing.

So he could recall where this particular score was from. It wasn't the main theme, nor the score for any of the spectacularly amazing moments. It was a simple score and it was the score for when Michael Corleone went to Sicily and met Apollonia.

"Hey you wanna know a conspiracy theory of mine." Tomei randomly said.

"Sure."

"I think the reason Violeta loves the first movie so much is because of the entire Apollonia part." Tomei said. "The whole thunderbolt, coup foudre ideal that yeah sure, not love at first sight but the first time you see them, like properly see them, you stop and know that they... they're special and need to be in your life. Preferably as yours."

Stiles found that he had stopped what he was doing. He stared at Tomei, unable to understand why she was telling him this. Something so personal, something she thought about Violeta yet hadn't told her. This was a personal opinion, something Tomei believed about Violeta. And she was sharing it with him.

Tomei placed another rolled vine leaf into the saucepan like it was no big deal.

"Was he Sicilian?" Stiles asked, not forgetting the important fact Tomei had disclosed to him. She glanced at him with a hmm? and her hands still automatically doing the rolling, having apparently perfected it to the point that she didn't even need to put much mental effort in it anymore.

"Joey." Stiles elaborated, recalling the name Tomei had used. "Was he Sicilian?"

"Smart." She commended him with an impressed look that he had made that jump with the music playing. "But no. Joseph's grandparents were actually Egyptian immigrants. Refugees actually. His mother grew up in New York and married a Polish guy. But they remained The Bronx where he grew up and was where he identified as from." She was with a smile. Stiles was surprised at the turn of events. He placed another roll into the saucepan, digesting the information of Violeta's background.

"That would make Vio, like, one eighth Egyptian." He finally said, thinking about it. "And a quarter Polish..." He trailed off with the staggering realisation that they were both a quarter Polish. He didn't know why it felt like a very important fact, or a big deal... but it did to him. It was like finding out she liked Batman and wore the same shoes as him, only stronger.

"Hey."

Both Stiles and Tomei looked up to see the girl in the doorway. Stiles stopped what he was doing while Tomei said hello and resumed what she was doing. Stiles, however, couldn't take his eyes off her.

Maybe it was the music. The tune that Tomei must've set on loop because the same minutes or so of chords and notes had been playing over and over during the long conversation about heritage and ethnicity. Maybe it was hearing such emotive music, music that was tied to such a memorable love scene. That this was what the tune a famous composer had decided adequately conveyed the Sicilian ideal of the 'thunderbolt' and love at first sight. This was the music playing as he saw here standing there, the first time today. Maybe that was why.

Or maybe it was because he'd gotten that much closer to her. That Tomei spoke about her, telling him the facts about her heritage or her beliefs that Violeta was a romantic at heart who desired to have that thing that wasn't love at first sight, but seeing the other person and recognise that they're special and you need them to be in your life. Preferably as yours.

Stiles stared at her and wondered if this was what if felt like, to stare at someone and desire to have them, to call them yours, to know that they could never be anyone else's because they were yours.

"You're making dolma." Violeta commented.

"I was bored and wanted an excuse to pig out on carbs." Tomei spoke up as an explanation. Stiles watched Violeta's face, seeing the faint outline of a smile on her face. "I would ask you to help but Stilinski here is a born natural and better than you so..." Violeta's eyes settled on Stiles and the boy felt panic as she watched him roll another leaf into a perfect cylinder. He placed it in the saucepan, feeling more relief than the first time, happy that he didn't stuff up in front of Violeta.

The girl walked into the kitchen and set the kettle to boil. Stiles tried to focus on the leaf Tomei passed him but he kept glancing at Violeta who's back was to him. She pulled out a small pot of tea leaves, some cups and a diffuser. He noted the braid in her ponytail, undeniably the work of Lola, and the black hoodie she wore. It was the hoodie he'd given her to keep her warm after they ran into each other at the gay club called Jungle.

The front door bell rang and Violeta went to answer it. Tomei nudged his side and winked at him. He paled, thinking she knew what he was feeling. He felt his stomach drop as he looked down at his hands. She had said it was a social experiment.

He thought about everything... her telling him about Violeta... the conspiracy theory of the thunderbolt and love... playing the song... talking about how Abuela Maria married a white man... that her grandfather was Polish like his... all things that left him thinking that he destined to love girl's that would never think of him that way.

"What?"

"Experiment complete. She's not angry anymore." Stiles frowned, not at all understanding the second sentece. She's not angry anymore? What did that have to do with the social experiment? Wasn't it about him—

"If she had seen the dolma and was still in mourning, she would've been angry." Tomei explained, seeing his face. Stiles let out a small 'o' and realised that the so called 'social experiment' was to see how Violeta was dealing with the death of her grandmother; not for him to realise that his feelings for had had grown beyond the territory of 'just a crush.' This was... this... he wanted to be hers just as much as he wanted her to be his.

"Why would she be angry?" He asked, trying to seem calm even though his mind was in a whirl with what he'd learnt and realised this afternoon.

"It's her favourite food because she loved sitting on Maria's lap, listening to the stories of her ancestors while Joey made dolma." Tomei added when she found him silent.

Suddenly, Stiles looked at his hands. The feeling of being an outsider returned. He shouldn't be making this. He was intruding. He was once again a white kid playing at being a part of something he wasn't. He was even angry at Tomei, for recreating such a vivid and important memory to what? Test and see if she had moved along the five stages of grief? He dropped the leaf, huffing and ready to give Tomei a piece of his mind when she grinned brightly at him.

"And she's making tea! Just like she did for Maria and Joey!" Tomei said, making fists and shaking them slightly in a weird, trying-to-be-subtle show of excitement. "Oh shit, here she comes. Keep going." Stiles forced himself to do as Tomei said just keep up the appearances. Violeta walked back in, telling them that it was another condolence card from abroad.

Stiles' darted to her and back to the food in front of him. He keep looking back and forward, unable to focus with Violeta here... with what he had realised about himself about her.

Maria had married a white man.

That was all he could think.

That was all he could hope.