Canned Soup (E2-Harrison x Sick!Reader) - Imagines
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Imagine: You're sick in bed with the flu and Harry is trying his best to help you feel better…
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“Canned soup?”
“Shut up.”
Quite flustered, Harry ran his hands through his hair and laced his fingers behind his head. He shot you a judging glare that told you not only of his irritation, but of his slight embarrassment as well.
You couldn't help but smile.
Despite your shitty condition right now - messy, oily hair, stuffy nose, sore throat and killer headache - the man still found a way to make you smile. It was one of the things you loved about him.
Catching sight of your bemusement, Harry rolled his eyes and took a seat beside you. He tugged the yellow plastic bowl and spoon from your hands.
“Look,” He said, stirring the chicken broth in a slightly irritable manner. “I don't know how to cook. I don't. But until I learn how to, this is the best I can manage.”
He raised the spoon to his lips and blew.
“So, shut up.”
You opened your mouth to argue once more. “I wasn't -”
“Shut up.” He repeated.
And with that, the multiverse physicist shoved the spoonful of soup in your mouth.
Gently.
At first, you gagged at the hot metal’s sudden presence in an unwanted place; but, shortly after, were able to cup your lips around the neck of the spoon and catch the soup before it splashed out and dribbled down your shirt.
Swallowing, you shot Harry a sassy glare. “What was that for?!”
“For being so damn noisy,” he grumbled, stirring your soup once more. “Say another word and I'll shove this spoon down your -”
“Wow, okay,” you interrupted once more, this time a slight mischievous smile tickling the corner of your lips as you saw the man’s forehead vein about to burst. “That's graphic. You always talk to girls like that, Wells?”
Another deep set scowl appeared on his features. “Just eat the damn soup.”
Your sly smirk broadened. “Whatever you say, Boo.”