"Imagine person A of your otp is sick but person B refuses to let person A sleep on the couch just because they're sick and person A doesn't want to get person B sick so A creates a wall of pillows and blanket between them on the bed" (prompt by imaginetheotp)

·•·

"I'll sleep on the couch tonight," Oliver managed to choke out before leaning forward to cough into his fist.

About a week ago, he had contracted what he had brushed off as a head cold. Felicity hadn't thought anything of it until that morning when he had had particularly rough coughing fit that left unable to catch his breath. She drove him straight to the ER. After nearly three hours of waiting in the stuffy room listening to people coughing and sniffling, Oliver's nerves were strung so tight that when they finally called his name, he had leapt to his feet quicker that Felicity could react. Eventually, after hours of waiting, he had received the diagnosis of walking pneumonia.

"What do you mean?" she murmured, palming his burning forehead. Although he had taken medicine to lower his temperature, it still seemed to be pretty high.

"I don't want to get you sick," he replied, pushing her hands away.

"So, what, are you just going to sleep on the couch every day until you get better?" she questioned, moving her hands from his forehead to his shoulders. She noted that he seemed tense, even more so than usual.

He nodded.

"Oliver, that's ridiculous. You've been sick for almost a week. If I was going to catch it, I would have by now."

"You still could," he argued. "Anyway, I'll be coughing all night, you don't want to get woken up," he trailed off, coughing weakly as if to prove his point.

"You've been up all night coughing since Monday. I didn't mind it then and I won't mind it tonight. I don't want to be asleep when you're not feeling well, anyway. I'm not going to let you sleep on the couch. I'll drag you if I have to."

"Like you could."

"Believe me, I would find a way. There is no way you're gonna get away with sleeping on the couch."

He rubbed his eyes, leaving them even more puffy and red than before. "Felicity—"

"No, Oliver. You're sick, you have pneumonia, for goodness sake. You are not sleeping on the couch. Come on, let's go to bed, you're clearly exhausted."

She offered her hand to help him up, but he just shook his head. "No, Felicity—"

"Let's go," she interrupted, grabbing his hand and his shoulder to help him up.

He grumbled something unintelligible, but finally relented and rose from his chair to follow her into their bedroom.

·

After getting ready to sleep, Felicity sat down on their bed beside Oliver as he coughed. "How're you feeling?" she asked, resting the back of her hand against his forehead when he was finished. She could tell that he still had a pretty high fever.

He shrugged. "I'm fine," he mumbled, his voice hoarse and weak from coughing.

"You have a very different definition of 'fine' than I do. In my book, 'fine' does not include coughing until you can barely breathe," she said, pointing out his wheezing.

He scowled, but didn't say anything.

"You're not fine, you're sick. So, really, how are you feeling?"

After a couple seconds he sighed. "I don't know. Not great, I guess."

"What hurts?"

"My chest, my throat, my head. It's not that bad. It's all just from coughing too much.

"Can I get you anything? Aspirin? Water? You already took your medicine, right?

"Yeah, I did and no, I don't need anything."

"Okay, then let's sleep," she whispered, rubbing his hand.

"Nope, I need to make a wall first."

"A wall? What?"

He turned away from Felicity and coughed into his elbow. "I told you, I don't want you to get sick. If you won't let me sleep on the couch, then I'm making a pillow wall."

"Oliver!"

"I can go back to the couch if you want?"

"Fine," she relented. "Make your pillow wall, but I'm not gonna like it."

"That's fine with me," he said, sniffling a little and rubbing his nose. He gathered a mountain of pillows and set them in-between Felicity and himself before turning off the lights and climbing into bed.

"I can't even see you," she whimpered.

"It's dark, you wouldn't be able to see me anyway."

"But . . . I'll miss you."

"I'm right here, just like always."

"You need to get better fast."

He smiled, but remembered she couldn't see him. "I will. Goodnight, Felicity."

"Goodnight, Oliver."

·

When Oliver awoke coughing at two in the morning, he found that the pillow barrier had mysteriously disappeared and that Felicity was curled up next to him, immediately interlacing her fingers with his to comfort him while he coughed. He considered pushing her away, but she looked so peacefully happy, lying next to him, trying to take care of him even while half asleep. "I love you," he whispered. He didn't know if she was awake enough to hear him, but he had to say it all the same.

For a second, he though he saw her smile, but when he looked again she wore the same sleepy expression she had before.

He sighed and wrapped an arm around her as he fell back into sleep. His last thought was of how incredibly lucky he was to have the privilege of being loved by Felicity Smoak.