Little note here: Luciano -Brazil- and Martín -Argentina-, belong to the Latin Hetalia community, not to me. This is my first LH fanfic, and I'm totally crazy about this fandom now! I posted it on my LJ too, so if someone read it there, this is not a copy, I simply posted it here, too. Ok?

I hope you like the fic. It's just a little drama, with a little comedy and a bit of fluff. So yeah. Enjoy \o/

Martín wasn't expecting it. We wasn't expecting to see Luciano at his doorstep. And it wasn't even because it was late night already. It wasn't because he didn't call to say he was coming. It was just that everything was going so well for the Brazilian and so, hmm, not well for him that seeing his neighbor here, far from his home, and looking so miserable, he couldn't help but feel surprised.

Before Martín had an opportunity to say anything, Luciano started rambling.

"I... Know I didn't call but, hmm I'm sorry I didn't but... Everything's jus-just so crazy and I feel so helpless. I... I-I don't mean to ask you to help me with it, in fact I don't even know what I'm... Ah, Deus, I don't even know what I'm doing here! I should just go home already. I'm sorry I..."

Martín raised a hand in front of him, and that made Luciano stop.

"Do you think it works like that? You come here, say all this nonsense and sound like some crazy

man, turn your back and go back home?"

Luciano looks like a child who has just been scolded.

"I said I'm sorry." he says, which just makes Martín sigh.

"Come in and tell me what happened. I'm already up so you might as well finish what you've started."

Sitting on the couch with a glass of water in his hands -Martín wasn't crazy enough to give the already agitated Brazilian a cup o coffee- Luciano told the Argentine about the current situation in his country.

"You see, we might be the hosts of the next Olympics and the World Cup, we might be the sixth economy in the whole world but what does it matter if people are so unhappy? They wouldn't be on strike if they were happy, right? It doesn't mean nothing to have a good position if the good consequences of it aren't passed on to the people, sabe? And I just don't know what I can do to change this situation..."

"Luciano, listen. I understand it. Believe me, I do. But if they are on strike, if they are fighting it aren't they? It means they want to change things, and maybe they will do it by themselves. I think you need to give your people a little more credit. And you politicians a little less..."

"Do you really think so?"

"Yeah. But in case they don't, the Argentine army can always intervene..."

"No" Luciano said, a little alarmed until he realised his partner was only joking. "You idiot!"

The Brazilian punched the Argentine, and they started a play-fight, which ended up with both of them on the floor. Luciano's body pressing Martín to the floor, and when they eyes met, the electricity was undeniable.

Martín felt Luciano's lips resting lightly on his, a sweet kiss. A quick one too.

"Thank you," Luciano said "for always being here when I need you."

And that made Martín flush.

"It is my house. Where, if not here, would I be?"

"You know that's not what I mean, Martín." Luciano said, with a smile so bright Martín felt like smiling himself.

"It's too late for you to go back home..."

As he said that, Martín saw Luciano's smile change from the happy, innocent one to that playful smile that made something inside the Argentine change.

"I see... Well, I think you're right. It seems like I'll have to spend the night here."

"Yeah, it seems like it."

And this time, Martín was the one who started the kiss.

THE END

*Feel free to warn me if you find any grammar mistakes, ok? I'd really appreciate it.*