"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."