Band of Brothers Imagines

Cafe - Harry Welsh x Reader

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Your lunch hour came around quickly, but you were glad of it, needing a rest after such a busy morning at work. Walking a few doors down to a café that a co-worker had recommended, you sat yourself down at a table in the corner, wishing there was something soft between you and the hardness of the rickety chair. The fans whooshing overhead provided welcome relief from the midday heat; although the noise of them, when coupled with the loud chatter of the café's many clients, was rather too loud to allow you to properly relax.

After the waitress had taken your order, you noticed a soldier come in. It was his big grin to the waitress that first grabbed your attention, and you studied him as subtly as possible. He was a little older than the average soldier you'd seen, but not yet middle-aged. He had dirty blonde hair, in small, soft looking, curls atop a high forehead. Although on the small side, he looked hardened and tough, and certainly not someone you'd want to get into a fight with.

You were pulled out of your trance when you realised the man was heading towards your little table in the corner, and you could already feel your cheeks burning, knowing that by now they'd be crimson.

"This seat taken?" he asked with confidence, not waiting for your answer before he sat down.

"Su- sure," you stammered, not entirely certain why this stranger had decided to sit with you when there were still three or four free tables littered about the café. Now he was up close, you noticed the way his green eyes sparkled. He smiled at you, a wide toothy grin that lit up his entire face and made his eyes even more mesmerising.

///

Harry Welsh's head was full of Kitty Grogan. The Dear John letter he'd received a week before was in his inside pocket, well-thumbed, its words ingrained onto Harry's memory. He'd carried that goddamn reserve parachute across Normandy and for what. He needed to escape his billet and his friends who, although well meaning, were a constant reminder of his heartache with their remarks telling Harry someone else would come along or that he deserved better. He'd yet to encounter a woman better than Kitty, and doubted if he ever would. Hearing his stomach rumble, he decided to head into the café he spotted across the street. After putting on his usual grin for the waitress, he felt eyes boring into him, and turned around to see you. He could tell you were shy, your choice of sitting in the corner told him that, and your beauty intrigued him, so Harry decided to come over. Up close, you were even more mesmerising to him. Maybe he'd finally done what was seemingly so impossible: finding a woman better than Kitty.

///

"So, doll, you gonna tell me your name?" he asked once the waitress had taken his order.

"Uh... Y/N," you replied quietly, watching his strong jaw as he chewed his gum.

"Beautiful name for a beautiful girl," he replied. You floundered, not knowing how to respond to his compliment. In fact, you were so startled by it that you accidentally knocked your knife off the table. It cluttered to the floor, which drew looks from nearby customers and caused your cheeks to grow ever more red. Welsh scraped back his chair and bent down to collect the knife, and you admired the way his uniform tightened over his shoulders as he did so. A waitress who had noticed the disturbance came over with a clean knife, taking the one you'd knocked over away.

"Thank you," you managed.

"I'm Harry," he introduced himself as the waitress brought over your food. The meal, although punctuated with awkward silences, was enjoyable, and Harry slowly brought you out of your shell with his quirky questions and sense of humour. His cheeky, toothy grin never once faded from his face. As he sat there in your company, Harry Welsh forgot Kitty Grogan for the first time in a long time, basking in your company. Every time he made you smile his heart fluttered in a way it hadn't even when he'd met Kitty. Both of you were disappointed when the bill was delivered, and you realised you'd have to part ways.

"It's on me, Y/N," Harry stated pulling his wallet out.

"Oh no, I couldn't-" he cut you off before you could finish.

"I insist," he lay down the money, pushed a piece of paper towards you, stood up and left, not saying another word. Confused, you just gazed after him, before picking up the piece of paper. He must've written the note when you left to use the facilities. He'd written: same time, same place tomorrow? You smiled, already looking forward to it.