Based on this prompt from msbnasc on Tumblr: Oliver taking care of Felicity. When she has an allergic attack in the middle of a party.
"Will you at least try to look like you want to be here?" Felicity leans in and whispers.
"But I don't," Oliver sighs. She frowns and glares at him over the top edge of her glasses and he has to suppress a smile because it makes her look like an angry librarian.
"Well, I know that and you know that, but all these potential investors don't," she chides and gestures at the collected guests milling around the QC executive offices. "Or, at least, they shouldn't be able to tell that you don't, but standing here sulking and avoiding conversation isn't helping."
"I'm talking to you," Oliver says and smirks. Felicity glares back and Oliver heaves a frustrated sigh. "I should be helping Diggle, Sara and Roy track down Slade," Oliver growls impatiently. Felicity's expression softens and she gently rests a hand on his forearm.
"They are perfectly capable," she says. "Besides, if you were there, all you'd be doing is yelling at Roy and distracting Sara."
"You're very funny," he responds wryly.
"Someone has to be," she says brightly. "Now go mingle with the other rich people," she adds and pushes against his shoulder. "I'm going to survey all the food." Oliver chuckles and shakes his head, reluctantly strolling over to the head of Saverin Industries to chat.
But they're only talking for a minute when he hears a commotion from the direction of the food tables. He turns to see Felicity surrounded by a small group of people. Her face has turned an an unsettling shade of red and she's trying to control her breathing. Oliver takes a step toward her and then suddenly switches direction, turning toward his office.
He goes straight to the locked filing cabinet behind his desk and removes her purse from where she asked him to store it during the party, rifling around in it until he finds the epinephrine shot she always carries. Felicity has been helped into a chair when he returns and he uncaps the shot when he reaches her, drops to his knees, lifts up the fabric of her skirt and presses the needle into her thigh. He holds it there until the liquid drains and then tries to rub the injection site like the directions call for when Felicity's hand stops him.
"I can do that," she says and glances around nervously. Oliver nods, stands and turns toward the caterer.
"You were given explicit instructions not to put nuts in any of the food for this event," he menaces.
"I'm sorry," the woman splutters. "I don't know how this could have happened."
"I suggest you find out," Oliver replies coldly, "because I will not hesitate to make sure this is the last business your company ever gets."
"Oli–, Mr. Queen, that's not necessary," Felicity interjects and grabs his arm. He turns to argue, but stops himself when he sees the stern look on her face. Felicity nods as if to say the business is settled and then takes her purse from his hand. "Where does my phone always hide?" she mutters to herself as she searches through it.
"Do you want me to call somebody?" Oliver asks.
"An ambulance," she says like he's slow.
"I'll take you."
"Oliver."
"Felicity."
She stares at him a moment and then sighs and stands. Oliver makes apologies as he leaves, ignoring the judgmental stare Isabel Rochev shoots at him as the elevator doors close.
Oliver texts Diggle about what happened and when he looks up, he finds Felicity digging through her purse again.
"Aha!" she says and pulls out a package of Benadryl. He watches her pop the pills out of the foil and then smiles to himself.
"You know, you didn't have to do this," Oliver starts, drawing her attention.
"What?" Felicity asks, confused.
"The party wasn't that bad. I could have thought of an excuse to go. Giving yourself an allergic reaction is a bit dramatic."
"Stop it," Felicity says with a laugh and smacks his arm playfully.
"See? I'm funny," Oliver replies. Felicity shakes her head in disagreement, but she keeps smiling as she gulps down the pills without water.
By the time they get to the emergency room, see a doctor and finally leave, Felicity is so drowsy she can barely stand. She's swaying like a drunk as he leads her to his car and she fights to stay awake so she can give him directions to her apartment. She stumbles when she's climbing out of the car and Oliver decides there's no way he's going to let her near the flight of stairs leading to her door. He scoops her up in his arms and Felicity jolts awake in surprise for a moment.
"You beast," she jokes and weakly slaps him in the chest. He's grateful that she manages to dig her keys out of her purse and tell him her apartment number before she plain passes out.
When he finally gets her door open, the task made difficult by the dead weight of her in his arms, Oliver sets her things down on a table just inside her door and then wanders around until he finds her bedroom. He sets her down on the bed, takes off her shoes and glasses and briefly considers changing her into something more comfortable before deciding that the awkwardness when she inevitably woke up during that wouldn't be worth it.
Oliver goes to her kitchen to get her a glass of water in case she wakes up in the middle of the night and he's just setting the glass down on her bedside table when his phone rings. He sends her a worried glance and then quickly runs into her en suite bathroom and picks up the phone.
"Hello?" he whispers.
"Hey," Diggle says, "how's Smoak?"
"Asleep," Oliver replies.
"You coming to the foundry?" he asks. Oliver sticks his head out of the bathroom door and looks at Felicity, her hair fanned out on her pillow and lightly snoring.
"I think I'll stay here and make sure she's OK," Oliver says.
"Alright," Diggle says, a peculiar tone in his voice, and then hangs up.
Oliver silences his phone, drags a comfy armchair into the bedroom from Felicity's living room and removes his jacket, tie and shoes before settling in for the night. He falls asleep to the sounds of Felicity mumbling in her sleep.