2nd Person POV
Your Sunday mornings are usually consisted of early morning tea, maybe a bit of relaxing yoga, and some light reading. This Sunday is different. While you started up the kettle to make your morning tea, your phone went off about four times before it became too much for you.
"Excuse me, Tom Holland, why are you trying to call me this morning?" You growl into the phone, because Tom should know not to disturb you on a Sunday unless for an emergency.
"It is an emergency," Tom says quickly afterwards. "So, you know how I'm heading to Italy for Spider-Man stuff with Harry and Harrison?"
You listen to Tom as he explains the problem to you, "yeah, I helped Harrison pack yesterday." The kettle shrieks, signaling that the water is done boiling and you can finally drink the tea you've been waiting for all morning.
"Well, he's not coming with me to Venice at the moment, because he's sick. Plus I wanted to call you to ask you to go check on him right now, he is not answering his phone and I leave in a couple of minutes." You could hear from the other side of the phone, Tom yelling at Jacob and Zendaya for doing something. Then it sounded like he began running frantically, since he's out of breath now. "Sorry, Y/N, I really have to go, Jacob is threatening to leave without me."
"It's fine, Tom," you sigh into the phone, "I'll go check on Haz, but he seemed to be fine when I was with him last night."
"Sweetie," Tom laughs into the phone, "your boyfriend is an actor, he probably doesn't want to get you sick or have you worried about him."
"Oh, look at the time," you say in the most sarcastic way possible, "it looks like you need to go and I have things to do. Bye Tom."
You end up pouring the kettle water into a travel cup with the tea bag hanging out the top of it. Before going to Harrison flat, you stop by the store to buy three cans of chicken noodle soup, medicine for his head, and some crackers.
When you open the door to his home, it is freezing cold. Not even just a little chilly, but cold. His whole flat is dark, no lights on, all the windows are closed, and it feels like nobody has lived in this flat for forever.
Just to make sure if Harrison is even in here, you walk quietly into his room to find him. And look at that, his head is buried into a nearby pillow, only half of the blankets are on his body, tissues are scattered across his bed, and he somehow still looks really hot. Maybe it's the way his abs look in the dark lighting, but damn.
"Hey," you whisper to your sick boyfriend. He scrambles a bit in the bed, then lets out a loud groan into the pillow. "Tom called me this morning about you, so I picked up some soup if you want some of it." The next sound that came out of Harrison's mouth sounded like a yes, but also a no. "Give me fifteen minutes, Haz, and I'll come back with soup and crackers."
You immediately got started on making the chicken noodle soup for Harrison after you left his room. In his kitchen, you found a pot to start up the food, a small bowl to put the food in, and a plate to put all the crackers on.
Everything was almost done, but out of nowhere, Harrison came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist. "You didn't need to come here, I can take care of myself and I also don't want you getting sick."
"Well, I want to take care of you, and besides, if I get sick, that means you get to take care of me. Now, go back to bed so I can bring you soup and crackers." You pull his arms off your body and push him in the direction of his room. Harrison kept trying to sneak back into the kitchen, but you kept catching him. Eventually, you dragged him into his bedroom and sat him on the bed.
The soup is still warm after you sat Harrison down in bed, thankfully. So you grab the food and slowly make your way back to his room. He agrees to eat the soup, only if you took a bite of it first. You take a bite and pretend that it is the best thing ever with an eye roll and everything. Harrison thought it was ridiculous, but he took and soup and ate it anyways. Afterwards, he had a couple of the crackers and handed the rest of them to you. The soup was better in his opinion.
"Next step for today, I will clean up your room and you will take a shower. No buts, Osterfield." He draws out a loud sigh and gets up from the bed, heading towards the bathroom. Being sick is bad, but being sick and smelly is even worse.
You begin to walk around his room picking up tissues and throwing out whatever else trash you can find. Harrison has crisp wrappers, leftover clothing tags, and food crumbs all over his floor. That boy is disgusting.
"Y/N," you hear Harrison whine from the bathroom, "I can't breath through my nose and my head hurts."
You sigh this time, "I'll go grab you some medicine from the kitchen."
"I don't want to take nasty medicine," Harrison yells back. He opens the bathroom door and walks out in only sweatpants and a towel hanging off his shoulder.
"It is just a quick swallow, then you are done. You can even plug your nose if you hate it that much." You continue to walk out of his bedroom, ignoring his pleases of not taking the medications. He is pouting on the bed when you come back from his kitchen. Harrison really doesn't want to take the medicine at all. "Come on, just two swallows."
"That's what she said," he mumbles, taking the pills from your hands and swallowing them with his cup of water. Once your hands are empty, you lightly smack the back of his head for the comment he made. He knew he deserved it too. "Okay, okay I'm done. Time for cuddles." Harrison rolls over in the bed, climbs under his blankets, and pats the spot next to him for you to join him. And you did.
"You know, I have to get you better so you can meet Tom in Venice, right?" You ask him while sitting yourself down right next to him. He naturally wraps his arms around you and hums in response to your question. "Did you even hear me?"
"Yeah, kind of," Harrison says quietly. "What if I pretend I'm sick the entire time so I can stay in England with you? I don't think Tom would mind."
"Tom would most definitely mind, he needs you during these movie shoots. You keep him sane." You tell him back, yet he just laughs. His laughing quickly turned into a sneeze, right into the back of your head. "Harrison, I'm going to go take a shower and you are going to pray that I don't send your mother over here."
"You wouldn't dare."
"You sneezed in my hair!"
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Harrison Osterfield ImaginesFanfiction
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