#for reference his family ran from spain in the 1600s or so to escape the spanish inquisition

[streetkid-named-desire]

Okay @ghostoffuturespast and @merge-conflict tagged me to share 6 lines and I haven't worked on the main fic's next chapter but I've had this origin fic idea bouncing around in my head that's inspired by The Devil's Arithmetic, a book I loved as a child. V sleeps off some wine after Passover seder at the camp and gets transported back to the 1800s (I think I can't remember the exact dates I decided on in my research lmaoooo) where he's the husband of some great great great aunt and they just landed in Mexico and are going to join his great great great whatever grandma on his maternal side at their budding tequila still and farm (his dad took his mother's family name)

Rules: Share the last six lines of any of your WIPs.

I tag uuuhhhhhhhhh @olath124 and @wounded--machine and @ouroboros-hideout

V spoke, not his own words. His voice was deeper with a harsher gravel. He felt a mustache tickle his lips too. "Julie is excellent at math and will handle the books. If anyone will be a maid, it will be me! I will also work the agave fields. This is not charity." "See, mamá? We got it all figured out," Julissa wrapped her arm around V's and they walked to the carriage with Valeria.

I'm gonna post the whole WIP under the cut because it's fun :3

V looked up and down the long picnic table. Three nearly empty plates of brisket were placed between every 10 people, five on either side. Bea was tearing into her fourth helping of the real beef brisket she'd made for their table. "I think this is the first Passover seder I attended in 20 years," V said and placed his hand on her thigh.

Bea swallowed without chewing, daintily dabbed at her mouth and took a sip of wine before speaking. "That would make you…" she trailed off trying to do the math in her head.

"Twelve, yeah. Last one before my parents died," V gulped down the last of his wine. The glowing sunset dazzled through the bottom of the glass and he suddenly felt very woozy. He set the glass down and placed two hands flat on the table to steady himself. "I'm feeling a little iffy. Gonna go lay down in the tent."

Bea started to get up but he placed a hand on her shoulder. "I'll be fine. I think not having real live beef in a while plus all that wine is making my stomach riot."

Bea furrowed her brow in concern but nodded, "Holler if you need me." He kissed her on her cheek before standing and walking to their tent, only a few feet away.

V kicked off his shoes and untucked his dress shirt. It wasn't a suit dress shirt, it was a long sleeve black cowboy shirt with gold accents that Bea embroidered herself. He rolled up the sleeves and unbuttoned the top three buttons before falling into the cot. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, willing his stomach to relax.

"¡Oye! Vincente, levantarse," a woman's voice hissed in his ear.

V opened his eyes and searched for the source of the voice. He wasn't in a tent. He was in the hold of a ship with twenty other people. It was musty and smelled like human waste and damp carcasses. The woman nudged his shoulder and whispered again, "Come on, this is our stop." She stood up and handed a canvas satchel to him. The woman looked like his mother, but younger, much younger. She was 20, at most.

V found himself nodding and standing up. He took her hand and they quietly and carefully stepped over the other sleeping—and dead—bodies to the hatch to the deck. When they climbed out, the cool night air was fresh and sweet. He inhaled deeply, clearing his sinuses of the hold.

A sailor nodded in greeting at them and helped them find the plank down to the shore. "Where are we?" V asked.

"Tampico," the woman said.

"¡Julissa!" a voice cried out. The woman next to him dropped her things and ran.

"¡Mamá! ¡Mamá!" Julissa sobbed. V picked up what she dropped and followed.

When their embrace ended, Julissa wiped the tears off her face. She straightened her skirt and stood tall. "Mamá, este es mi marido," she said and gestured towards V. "Vincente, este es mi mamá, Valeria."

On autopilot, V took the woman's hand and bowed. He kissed the thin, aged skin on top of her hand and Valeria cooed while Julissa giggled. "Señora Guerra, mucho gusto usted."

V's mind whirled. This wasn't a BD. This was a dream. But it felt so real and was so consistent. And where was Johnny? He usually popped up in his dreams.

"Come, it's a six hour ride to the hacienda. Then, tomorrow, we will discuss your…plans," Valeria.

"Mamá, I talked about this in my letter. León says the tequila business is taking off! He's still using the recipe your grandfather created when he was a vintner," Julissa said.

Then it clicked for V. The Guerras. The Guerra tequila.

"It's just risky. It was already risky being with child and on that boat! Now you want to travel to the opposite side of the country? And for what? To be a maid?" Valeria clucked in disapproval.

V spoke, not his own words. His voice was deeper with a harsher gravel. He felt a mustache tickle his lips too. "Julie is excellent at math and will handle the books. If anyone will be a maid, it will be me! I will also work the agave fields. This is not charity."

"See, mamá? We got it all figured out," Julissa wrapped her arm around V's and they walked to the carriage with Valeria.