AmeriPan Oneshots

Confession

((Hey Bitches, what's up! I'm posting this for the AmeriPan Secret Santa on Tumblr. I had @/kater-meme-a-dirt-catch. I hope you enjoy!))
((Also, you asked for fluff but this sorta turned into a rom com? Forgive me.))

Though his cheeks flushed and his heart felt wobbly, Japan assured himself multiple times that he did not like America. Not his piercing eyes, not his blinding smile, and no, certainly not his happy demeanor. No, none of those things. In fact, Japan hardly noticed any of those things, because he did not like America.

He was certain that he'd picked up the phone to call America and remind him that he did not like him, that they were only the best of friends. However, for some odd reason the only words that escaped his mouth were,

"Would you like to spend Christmas at my house?"

And being the way he was, America responded with zeal, nearly blowing up the landline Japan was using with his chatter. Before the noise could change his mind, Japan murmured,

"Thank you. See you in a week,"

and promptly hung up.

America arrived at his house a day early, to Japan's surprise. Surprising indeed, because when he saw a man standing on his front step wearing a Santa suit he nearly had a heart attack.

He faintly recalled what exactly had occurred when he regained consciousness, and as he stared up at Mr. Faux Claud with an understanding expression. He was sitting on his living room floor, aside his kotastu. The man in red looked alarmed, only muttering,

"You okay?"

Japan nodded as he sat up, flashing America two thumbs up.

"Peachy."

"You need me to call a doctor or somethin'? Or I could make you some tea? Or, hey, you know what, dogs are cute, that'll make you feel better. HEY! HEY POCHI, WHERE ARE YOU?"

"..."

"Meh, he ain't comin'. Still want that tea, though?"

Japan shook his head and pushed himself up. Tea sounded nice, but he forced himself to reject the offer in fear that America would burn his house down with England's horrid cooking genes.

"Oh, ok. Well, then, as long as you're not dead..."

America stood and spun around, showing off his flashy suit. He struck a fake pose.

"Like my outfit? Took forever to find one in my size, if you could believe it. I figured you could use some cheering up, you sounded kinda dreary when you were on the phone with me. And what better way to brighten your day than by hanging with the Big Guy himself?"

He walked over to Japan's kotastu and sat on it, despite his host's numerous and rapid protests. He crossed one leg over the other,

"So, how's life been treating you? Wanna come tell me about it? You can sit on my lap."

Japan had to force himself to reject that offer, too. He cleared his voice, hoping the flush on his cheeks wasn't that visible,

"You're acting ridiculous. Please get off of my table."

America held his hands up in a "touchy" manner before abiding, sitting on the floor across from Japan.

"Mr. America, I do appreciate your concern for my well being, I really was not expecting you to come today... I'm afraid I have nothing to offer right now. And I am not going out today, you would not believe how difficult it is to get reservations on this day..."

He muttered the last part to himself, and when America questioned him on it he lit up again and assured him that it was nothing.

After being dragged around by his friend all day, (the unbearable cries of "Let's play switch! Let's play switch!" were still ringing in his ears) Japan was exhausted at night. He wholeheartedly expected America to keep hounding him, but after Japan yawned the first time, he stopped, and said nothing but, "Goodnight."