Ted Lasso: Schrodinger's Witch.

Or, the one where AFC Richmond are leading the Premier League table, and Trent Crimm and the rest of the British press are slowly losing their minds as a result.

Distantly, she hears footsteps approaching, and looks up in hope, praying that it’s the paramedics arriving–but it’s just Higgins, shockingly normal in his suit and tie, asking, “Rebecca, someone heard shouting–” and then he sees Rebecca crouched over Ted’s prone body and gasps, the file folder in his hand fluttering to the floor.

“Leslie,” Rebecca chokes out, “Ted’s collapsed, I need you to go downstairs and wait for the ambulance.”

“Yes, yes,” Higgins stutters, “But–”

“Go,” Rebecca orders, and Higgins stumbles over his own feet, rushing out of her office.

(Futurefic, set seven years after s1.)

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.)