Hetalia one-shots

I'll leave the porch light on (2p!Spamano)

**2p!Spamano! High school Au!

Warnings: mentions of drug use; touchy language (Santiago calls Flavio 'fag', in some cases in mild annoyance but usually affectionately). Also strong language in general (says the f-word a ton of times, wow...). ALSO I originally wrote this because: this kind of happened to my dad like last year. We live in a really nice neighborhood and this girl who had a bloody/runny nose was sitting on the sidewalk and she asked him for a ride to somewhere and he said later she was a drug addict 😳 so this story was born.**

The phone buzzes and Flavio stands to go into the other room. Running a hand through his blonde hair, he clicks it on.

Im comin over ~S.

Okay. Why? Don't you know how late it is? What if I was already asleep? ~FV.

Dont care. Please. ~S.

Flavio pauses. Since when does Santiago beg? He gets a cold feeling in his stomach then..

Of course you can come. Are you ok? ~FV.

Idk. I need to come. Be there in 5. Gracias u little fag ~S.

Flavio smiles despite the insult (if anyone screamed "gay" it was him) and goes out to his porch. It's cooler out there. Peaceful. He lights a cigarette.

Is Santiago okay?, he thinks as he takes a drag and watches the end come alive (it burns and breathes and he likes it). Does he care? If so, why? Santi's terrible to him, a real asshole. And plus he has no fashion sense. No manners. Cocky. An idiot. So--

"Hey asswipe, you're here." A tall dark figure is suddenly walking up the sidewalk to his porch and his heart leaps weirdly.

"Of course I am." he finds his voice, and it's as smooth as honey. Totally. "I live here, remember, Santi?"

Santiago laughs then. His laugh is deep and rumbling and kind of hoarse. "That's not what I meant and you know it."

He finally comes into the porch light.

He has an old black hoody, stained and too-small; and with the hood up, it makes him look like... well, a hood. Faded torn (on purpose?) black jeans. Dirty sneakers.

His face is lean and tan. He has a scar running vertical across his lips. His eyes are the only thing that makes him look alive: green. Hair that peeks out from the hood is a mix between black, and bleached white.

His hair makes him look like a skunk. Everything else makes him look like a (hot?) mess.

Flavio's cheeks burn when he realizes what he's been thinking. He hopes he doesn't see in the dim light.

"Your face is all red." Santiago smirks, leaning up against the porch railing.

Fuck. "It's because... of the cigarettes," Flavio says quickly.

"You're too goody-two-shoes to smoke."

Flavio rolls his eyes. "Just because I don't go out and start fights like you, or freaking shank people like Luci, doesn't mean I'm good."

He gives him a look like he doesn't believe him before sniffing and wiping his nose with the back of his hand. His nose is red, and it's running. Mucus and blood trail onto his lips.

Now you see, Flavio's known Santiago Carriedo for a long time. They're not exactly friends--well okay, they are. In a way. Point is, he knows things about him. Bad things and good things (and he knows he has good in him too). But this here is a bad thing.