So this is actually an assignment from my 12th grade creative writing class, and I needed names, so I figure I'd turn this into something Hetalian. No one in my class watched the show or knew anything about the fandom, so I was safe. It's sort of spur of the moment that I'm posting this anyway.

Enjoy some Spamano drabble

Antonio woke up in a daze. As he blinked himself into consciousness, biting back a groan from the sudden ache radiating in his skull, he took in the sight of several other teens sprawled out around his living-room, and empty bottles of Sangria and Jägermeister littering the coffee table and the floor. As he arose from his temporary sleeping arrangement - the carpet - he became aware of the sound of voices and clattering ceramics coming from the kitchen, the next room over. He groggily headed toward the noise, squinting and cursing at the eastward placement of the living-room windows. When he reached his destination, he smiled at the sight of two of the three people here he actually knew on a first name basis.

"G'morning Maddie, Gil," Antonio greeted blearily.

The pair looked up at him from their seats at the kitchen aisle. Gilbert, the pale haired man at the table, smirked, then grimaced as the action seemed to cause him pain. The other person at the table, Madeline, Gilbert's girlfriend, giggled softly in her cute feminine way and passed him some coffee with one hand while rubbing his back comfortingly with the other. Sending the girl a grateful smile, Gilbert raised the mug to his lips and took a short sip, testing the taste, then a large gulp, downing half the mug. He carelessly slammed the cup back down on the table, stretched his arms above his head for a minute, then crossed them behind his head and boasted, "My girl makes a mean cup o' Joe. Can't beat a quality gal like Maddie."

Madeline smiled shyly, to which Gilbert smirked and placed a kiss on her forehead, causing her face to erupt in a bright carmine. She stood up abruptly, causing her chair to give a painful shriek as it scraped across the floor, and stuttered, "I-I'm going to go f-find Francis."

Antonio and Gilbert watched with amusement as Madeline scurried out the kitchen and toward the stairs up to second floor, where she assumed her cousin, Francis, would be. After she was completely out of sight, Antonio turned to his friend. "I take it things are going well?" It was really more of a statement than a question.

"You bet'cha. How 'bout you and that bitchy chick, Lovina?"

Antonio sighed exasperatedly and replied, "I've already told you, we're just friends." Which was true. Antonio and Lovina practically grew up together, and, while the tempestuous girl had a sharp tongue, they had maintained their friendship for a good thirteen years. In recent year they hadn't hung out as much as they used to, as hormones kicked in and they realized that members of the opposite sex did not in fact have cooties, and both started going out on their own dates, but they were still close friends. Antonio may have hated each-and-every single person who dared to approach Lovina, but that totally had nothing to do with anything, no way. He was just concerned for his best friend, honestly.

Gilbert gave him a perplexed look. "Really? You called her, completely plastered, and left a voicemail with some pretty, uh, interesting information."

Antonio paled and gaped at his friend, looking like a startled fish. Swallowing thickly, he dared to ask, "W-what did I say exactly?"

"Well..." Gilbert bit his lip, hesitant to continued, but feeling pressured by his friend's expectant, and somewhat horrified, stare. "You mostly dissed out some guy named Michael." Lovina's latest boyfriend. Okay, not too bad so far. "Then you were just, like, reminiscing. Talking about when you guys were ten or something. Then you... uh... kindasortatoldheryoulovedher ." He finished hurriedly.

Antonio's face seemed to be warring between being white as a sheet or red as a tomato, ultimately deciding on the latter. He fumbled with his pants pockets a bit, trying to find his phone, pulled it out, then felt his stomach lurch as he gazed wide-eyed at his call log.

2:26 am - Outgoing call: Lovina Vargas

Antonio raised a hand to cover his mouth in disbelief. No, no, no, no, no, this was not happening, this was just a bad dream. Yeah, a bad dream he would soon wake up from with a massive hangover and an empty call log. Because there was no way, no way, he had actually been drunk enough to-

His phone began to vibrate in his hand, knocking him out of his reverie, and giving him a good scare. When he looked down to see who was calling, he felt his blood run cold.

Incoming call: Lovina Vargas

"Oh, God..."

I've been wondering for a while if I should write a second part or something. I personally think it's good as a standalone writing piece.

Review and tell me what you think. :)