Various x Reader

Actual Flu ||Jake Peralta x non-binary||

Requested by: anonymous
A/n: sorry if it gets a bit corny/chunky in some parts, I just finished school up and my brain feels so tired

Cw: depictions of being sick
Also, there's a slight pov change

You woke up with chills and a pounding headache. You groaned—earlier you had been sent on an undercover case in an area where there was a flu outbreak, and you were hoping you wouldn't catch it, but obviously you had.

You threw up while on the phone with Holt to call in sick, and were so tired you were barely able to make it to the kitchen to get water. Luckily, you already had a blanket on the couch, so you were able to wrap yourself up in it, and sleep on the sofa.

Today was actually supposed to be your first day back from the case—and Jake eagerly waited for you by your desk. He had finished watching a show you had recommended to him, and he enjoyed more than he thought he would (and about as much as you thought he would) and really wanted to talk to you about it. Well...he wanted to infodump, and then it'd be nice if you added to the infodump, but it had become a new hyperfixation.

"I would recommend you stop waiting for y/n, Peralta, and actually get on that paperwork from your last case." Holt said, standing in the doorway of his office.

"But I'm waiting for them to show up so that I can talk to them about [enter show here]."

"Well, you are going to be waiting a while. Y/n called in sick."

"That sucks," Rosa said, "they left their jacket with me a couple weeks ago during game night. This time I actually remembered to bring it to give it to them."

"I'll give it to them." Jake said.

"What?" Holt asked.

"Yeah, I'll give them their jacket. I'm sure they don't want to be left alone while sick." Jake replied, walking over to Rosa to get the jacket.

"Peralta, you are not going to just leave, you have a job."

"Can't hear you, I'm already so close to the elevator and the doors are opening and that's really loud and I love you and I'm pushing the button for the door tocloseokaybyeCaptainI'lltelly/nyousaidhi!"

Jake was able to get to your apartment quickly, but it felt like he was waiting forever for you to answer the door.

"Ah! Finally! You take so long to answer the door when you're sick...but you also look really tired, so maybe I should've just come in."

"It was locked." You said, before turning, and walking back to the couch.

"Right. That's probably safer than leaving it unlocked for people to just walk in." He chuckled, following you into the room, and draping your jacket over one of the chairs in your dining room.

You were laying down on the sofa, Jake walked over to you, and placed the back of his hand against your forehead.

"Do you think you have the flu?" He asked.

You nodded, and he nodded in return. He walked to your bathroom, and got a washcloth—he'd been over plenty of times before, so he knew where everything was—wet it, then came back and placed it against your forehead.

It helped, but at the same he didn't, and upon seeing you shiver slightly, he rushed into your bedroom, and grabbed the blankets off the bed, before returning to the living room to cocoon you in them.

"There you go." He said, placing a bowl in your arms. "Do you need anything else?"

You shook your head no.

"Have you eaten anything today?"

You shook your head no again.

"Okay, well you need to at least try to eat something, and I can pick you up anything because I have a car, so what do you want?"

After he got you your food, he had to go back to work, but promised he'd be back.

You spent most of the day curled up under the covers, sleeping and watching TV, while occasionally throwing up despite you not eating much. You didn't have the energy to really make yourself a meal, so you snacked a bit.

Jake, on the other hand spent most of the day worrying. He knew you could probably take care of yourself—but it stressed him out not knowing if you needed something, and it also stressed him out not being able to check in on you (since you weren't the most responsive to his frequent text bursts).

Eventually, Holt let him go early because there was "no point in making him stay when all he was going to focus on was y/n."

Again, he rushed to your apartment, this time not knocking before he walked in since he texted you before coming.

He saw you sleeping, watching TV.

He smiled to himself, and started making soup quietly.

You woke up by the need to throw up. You jerked up, and grabbed the bowl quickly before doing so. Jake rushed over to you, placing a hand on your back.

You jumped and briefly looked up at him, before having to throw up again.

"It's okay, it's just me."

You only nodded in response, and when you were done, Jake took the bowl from you, and cleaned it out for you.

He brought it back, and after a while, brought you your soup, and cuddled with you on the sofa.

Your head was him his lap, and his hands were running through your hair—you were close friends, so both of you were familiar and comfortable with the gesture.

Your breaths had become deep, calm and even.

Jake looked at you, and smiled. He also got the confidence to do something he had meant to do a long time ago.

He bent down and kissed your forehead lightly—so lightly your eyes fluttered open to see if you had imagined it, only to see him pulling away.

"Sorry, I—uh, thought you were sleeping. Wait, no, that sounds wrong. It was just an accident. Nope. That sounded worse."

"It's okay."

"I know, I'm sorry. Wait. What?"

You smiled. "It was nice."

"Oh." He smiled down at you. "Okay."

There was a pause before Jake asked. "Y/n? When you're feeling better, would you like to go on a date? Unless you want to just be friends, then that's perfectly fine, too."

"No. That sound nice, I'd like to."

"To go on a date?"

You nodded. "Yes, the date."

"Oh. Okay. What do you want to do?"

"I don't know right now. I'll figure it out when I feel better."

"Right. Cool."

Eventually, you fell asleep in his lap, but he moved, placing a pillow under your head, and left to sleep in your room—still not wanting to leave you alone. Ultimately, making him sick within a couple of days.