Carefully taking a pillow and placing it in his lap, Ted mumbles, “Think I outta be getting home, sleep this off.”
“Can’t do that either,” Higgins says, grimacing sympathetically. “You’ll have to, ah, burn it out.”
(In which Ted gets dosed with sex pollen, and Trent and Rebecca work together to help him through it.)
Written for Yuletide 2021. Typical consent notes apply for the sex pollen trope (a deconstructed take on the trope, this fic is not). Major thanks to C for their lightning-quick beta, it is hugely appreciated. Title's from a Dua Lipa song.