Soccer/Football Imagines

Jordan Henderson [~] A Footballer, not a Plumber

For toxicwxste: Jordan Henderson

Life with Jordan Henderson as your husband was never really quiet. Your husband, although he had no skills in the field at all, was a self-proclaimed handy man. Which, brought you to your current situation. Your newborn was home for the first time since being born and you had wanted to give her a bath. However, your kitchen sink, the only one that you would be able to wash her in, was not working.

You didn't want to risk giving her a bath in a large bathtub or one of the very small sinks, and so you were left to deal with a broken sink. You would have called a plumber to fix it, had it not been a national holiday, meaning that no plumber would be out working. You had wanted to just wait to have a professional to fix the sink. Your husband, however, had a different idea.

The cabinets underneath the sink were open, an assortment of tools and other things were thrown about the kitchen floor, Jordan pouring over the instructions. You stood, rocking your baby, a few feet away. "You sure you understand the instructions, Jordan?" you asked, looking over at the footballer with a concerned look. "Maybe we should just wait to have a professional look at it."

"Please, how hard can it be?" Jordan shrugged, holding up the directions. "What's this?" he questioned, pointing to one of the pieces in the diagram.

"Do I look like a plumber to you?" you raised an eyebrow.

"Your dad is one."

"Plumber and electrician are two completely different things, Jordan," you sighed.

"Minor differences," Jordan shrugged, looking back at the faucet, which was starting to leak. "It's not supposed to do that, right?"

"I'm not going to even answer that question," you replied.

"Well, guess it'll have to be a quick fix them, huh?" Jordan rotated onto his back and looked up at the leaky faucet. "Can you pass me the wrench?"

"Which one? You have the whole store selection littered around the kitchen floor."

"The one with the yellow tape on it," Jordan clarified. Spotting the wrench, you picked it up and handed it to your husband. Your newborn started to get fussy in her basinet, causing you to make your way over to her.

"Mommy's here," you cooed, soothing your fussy daughter. She finally fell back asleep, much to your relief. That is, until Jordan realized he was a handy man. The sound of the wrench hitting the ground, followed by a long string of curses from Jordan's mouth caused your daughter to wake up with a shrill scream. Shooting your husband a glare, you rocked your daughter again. "I hope you're happy with yourself, Henderson," you growled.

"Sorry. Next time I drop the wrench on my face, I'll be sure to keep my mouth in check," came Jordan's sarcastic reply from underneath sink, which was still dripping water below the sink. Your newborn now soothed to sleep, you put her back down for a nap, before turning your attention to Jordan.

"Is it fixed yet?"

"Don't rush perfection."

"Who said it was going to be perfect?"

"Your handy man husband," Jordan winked, crawling out from under the pipe.

"Sure," you giggled, seeing the wrench imprint on his cheek. "I'm sure every plumber drop the wrench on his face," you chuckled.

"Laugh now, but when the sink finally works again, you'll be so amazed and sorry that you ever doubted me."

"Make me eat my words," you challenged.

"Try the tap, it should work," Jordan motioned with his hand to the sink. You leaned over and started the water. Nothing came out of the faucet. Yet, your feet were soaking wet. Looking down, you saw the pipe spewing water.

"If you were a plumber, I'd fire you," you muttered, shutting off the water. Not even blinking an eye, you walked over to the bathroom, returning with an armful of towels. As you tried to mop up the mess, Jordan attempted to fix the faucet for the second time that day. Lugging the now soaked towels to the washer, you threw them into the machine and started the load.

Walking back out to the kitchen, you huffed when you husband was once again working on the pipe. "Almost done," Jordan stated.

"I swear to God, Jordan," you moaned, feeling a head ache coming on. "This is your last chance, otherwise I'm calling a plumber whether you like it or not," you warned.

"Almost done. And have a little faith in me, for God's sakes," Jordan chuckled, crawling out from under the sink once more. His hair and shirt were soaked but he looked proud of himself. "Let's try it," he rubbed his hands together anxiously, hopping up. You walked over to the faucet, cautiously grabbing the handle of the spout. With one last glance over at your husband, you pulled the handle upwards, starting the water.

You screamed as you were hit by water immediately. Water came spraying out of God knows where and immediately soaked you to the bone. "JORDAN!" Your husband ran over, the both of you trying to clog the water. Jordan ripped off his shirt and wrapped it around the offensive appendage, stopping the water flow. Looking down at your now soaking wet clothes, you shot your husband a glare. "I'll show you how to fix a damn faucet," you muttered to yourself, storming out of the kitchen and into the garage. Returning with duct tape in hand, you crawled underneath the sink and duct taped the pipe. "That is how you fix a pipe."

You got up, squeezing your hair to try and dry it. "Guess I should stick to football, huh?" Patting his shoulder lightly you nodded. Peeling off your soaking wet cardigan, left now in a tank top, you walked over to your daughter, who looked at your curiously from her stand point in her basinet. She cooed as you picked her up.

"Your daddy can't fix a pipe," you whispered to your daughter. "And look what happened to Mommy."

"I'm insulted," Jordan whined, stamping his foot like a three year old. You handed your daughter to your husband before heading for the master bathroom.

"I'm taking a shower!" you called.

"Can I join?" Jordan asked.

"After the kitchen is no longer covered in water and (Y/D/N) is down for a nap," you replied, waddling into the bathroom. Jordan never moved faster in his life.

A.N. Thank you for putting up with me. I just got swamped with work and everything else. No excuses though! I'll publish as I go. Have three more requests to do, so please be patient, even though you guys have already been so patient with my laziness and writer's block.