Disclaimer: Don't own it.

A/N: Ok, so, it's late. I wrote this in one go because it was making me giggle. It's silly - borderline crack!fic - and it also has mentions of women's bodily functions. If this is going to gross you out, don't read on. If you are young enough to have no idea what sort of bodily function I'm talking about? Don't read on.

Seriously, this is just silly.

And short.

Ok, read on if you dare.

The Thing with the Band-Aids

"Don't look at me like that. I'm trying to save your life."

"Felicity, it's a—"

"I know! I know what it is, Oliver. I've been aware of these a lot longer than you have. Fun fact, these started out as bandages in the war and nurses decided to use them for—"

"Felicity, I'm fine."

"You know, that would sound so much more convincing if you weren't trying to hold your gash closed. Seriously, you're bleeding everywhere. And it's really pathetic because you're on the side of the road and the glass and the high beams and its dark outside. Just hold still."

"It's not sanitary."

"It's better than your clothing. Besides, they're called 'sanitary nap—"

"Gahhhh!"

"Grow up, Oliver. It's a pad."

"This is not a conversation I want to be having right now! Can you please just find me a Band-Aid?"

Felicity leaned back, crossing her arms and giving him her best 'you've-got-to-be-kidding-me' glare. "Where exactly do you expect me to find one?"

"I'm sure there's a first aid kit in the car," Oliver insisted.

"Yes, there is. It's right here, see?" She held up the small plastic box. "Guess how big the Band-Aids are?"

He glared at her.

"Yeah," Felicity pressed, her eyes big as if to accentuate her point. "About as big as my thumb. Let's face it, Oliver, you need hoo-ha coverage."

She advanced with a maxi pad in hand. Oliver was not amused. Neither was Felicity. Seriously, why did some guys get so freaked out about feminine issues? It wasn't like she turned into a grotesque slime monster every month. Sure, her emotions got a little sensitive and she kept a heating pad clamped to her midsection but, well, that's what happened when the lining of her uterus detached from her body. It wasn't as if guys didn't have icky things to deal with.

There he was - arm all sliced open, blood everywhere - and he was afraid of a maxi pad.

"Look, it's either this or I try and tape your arm closed with electrical tape. Or I could try to use a zip tie as a tourniquet…" Felicity chewed her lip as she thought through the possibility.

"No."

She threw up her hands. "You know what? I'm just gonna wait until you pass out from blood loss and then I'm gonna do whatever I want to you!"

"Just…fine. Give it to me," Oliver snapped.

Felicity barked a laugh. "You're going to try that with your off hand? Oh my god, Oliver Queen. Sit still."

"You're enjoying this way too much," he insisted.

"Just like you enjoy your coffee, sir," she insisted right back.

He pressed his lips together, tilted his chin to the side, and glared off into the distance. "Fine."

"Fine."

Felicity kneeled down next to where he'd collapsed after the knife fight. The man he'd been fighting was tied up on the side of the road. The car they'd been driving had exactly three bullet holes in the engine and no more windows. Naturally, they'd been outside of the city limits when the attack happened. Of course they had. And, naturally, Diggle hadn't been driving at the time. It was just Oliver and Felicity. It was supposed to be a quick recon trip. Nope. Big nope. Big nope with a big hunting knife.

Oliver hissed.

"Sorry…" Felicity murmured as she finagled the pad onto his arm and taped it in place.

It would've been ironic if Diggle had chosen that moment to show up. After all the fuss, he'd just pull up with his much more advanced first aid kit and then the whole maxi pad thing would've been completely for nothing. She wondered if she should take a few pictures to savor the moment. Blackmail on Oliver was hard to come by.

Well, no, it wasn't actually. The hardcore blackmail was actually really easy to find. But she didn't mean that sort of blackmail. She meant the lighthearted office prank stuff that would grant her extra sick days or something. Mild blackmail. Ultimately harmless blackmail.

Stuff like strapping ladies products to Oliver Queen's arm.

"Stop giggling," Oliver growled.

"You know, if you ever have a nose bleed, I always carry tampons with me," she said around a snicker. "You can just shove one right up there."

"Felicity, I swear to god—"

"Hang on."

Click. Flash.

"What was…Did you just take a picture? Felicity!"

"Ask me to pick up dry cleaning. I dare you," she said hotly.

"You…just…" His face screwed up in frustration. He snorted.

"I will start making man-gina jokes," Felicity insisted.

"Fine. Then I'll…I'll…"

"What? What Oliver?" Felicity challenged.

He didn't say anything.

He looked pale and sickly instead. And then, of course, she felt bad. Really bad.

"Hey, why don't you lie down or something? You don't look good," Felicity said softly, her brow etched in concern.

Oliver nodded slowly. "Do we have any water?"

"I think so. Hang on."

She retrieved a half empty bottle from the car and handed it to him. His fingers were shaking as he reached out and—

-and slipped his hand into her pocket. Quick as a wink, he whisked the phone out and sat on it.

Felicity gaped. "Did you just…I can't…You're sitting on my phone?!"

He grinned up at her.

Felicity made a few wild gestures of frustration and angst before she finally settled on fiercely pointing.

"You, sir, are…lucky. You're lucky that you're injured and I don't want to actually hurt you. Otherwise you'd be in a world of hurt, mister." She spun on her heels and stomped back to the car.

"Oh, hey, Felicity?" Oliver called.

"What?!" she snapped, craning her head back to glare at him.

"Thanks for the, uh…" He held his swathed arm up.

"It's a pad, Oliver!" she barked.

And then, oh then, she stormed away in a beautiful display of feminine pride.