Brooklyn Nine-Nine One Shots And Imagines

Rosa Diaz- Sick (c)

You arrived at the 99th precinct, looking around for the person you had been called to retrieve. Rather than seeing her you saw the person that had phoned you about the predicament.

"Hello Terry," you smiled to the man you had met on several occasions. "Where is she?"

"She's with Gina in the break room. We're trying to keep her away from others but she's very adamant that she isn't sick," he explained.

You let out a sigh, not finding any of what he said even slightly dubious. Rosa had always told you that she could never be sick, and you pretended that it was true however you knew that it was complete and utter crap. Since the two of you had become a couple she had become ill on two occasions, one of them she blamed on severe allergies to you making her smile too much, and the other she attempted to convince you that you were hallucinating.

Terry led you into the break room where Gina was trying to convince Rosa to sit back down but it wasn't working overly well.

"Let me go," Rosa groaned, her voice croaky from the sickness. "If you don't let me leave I will use your head to knock in the door."

"Rosa don't be so aggressive towards the nice lady," you stated.

Rosa went to shout but her mouth just hang loosely open, staring at you. "Y/N?"

"Hello. Terry called to tell me you need a lift home as you are sick and it's for the best to let you go home."

"I'm fine Y/N. I'm not even sick. They are just worrying about nothing. Go home. I'll see you there after my shift," she said with no expression but fell into a coughing fit as soon as her words finished.

You walked closer to her, wrapping an arm around her, supporting her quaking body that was expelling too many body fluids from her face.

"Come on Rosa. You aren't staying here today. I'll drive you to work when you're better as I am surprised you could even get here on your bike this morning, so you're going home in my car," you stated helping her walk through the precinct towards your car.

Rosa attempted to put up a fight, but she was too weak to do anything other than walk with you towards your car. You got her into the car and strapped her in before walking over to the driver's seat.

"I hate you," she grunted thrashing in the restraint of the seat belt.

She tugged at the fabric but in her sickness delusion she was unable to consider that she needed to press the small red button to let herself out.

"No you don't," you smiled knowingly at her.

"I know."

It was said in a weak whisper as she attempted to smile but it was nearly physically impossible for her to do when she felt well let alone in her ill state.

"I love you Y/N," she said softly.

"I love you too," you smiled. "I would kiss you but I don't want to get sick as then there will be no one to take care of you."

"I appreciate it. When we get home we're going to cuddle and eat soup. And you will never tell anyone about it, ever."

You laughed at how persistent she was to never tell her colleagues about how you two were at home, as she liked her tough and stern demeanour. It wasn't as though she instantly became a big softie when just around you, but she actually cracked a smile on a semi-regular basis and was able to not threaten to injure you at every moment.

"Of course," you smiled, "whatever you want. I am completely fine with cuddling and making you soup."

~*~

Written by Charlotte.