You see, Dick should have been a little more careful, being a secret agent for government intelligence and letting his best friend be around his chemicals that formed a biological weapon without supervision. Because said biological weapon looked exactly like strawberry lemonade, and you loved strawberry lemonade, but no, it was a chemical weapon that heightened the libido of the drinker. Yea, it was exactly what it sounded like— and yes, you’d definitely drank it.

He’d panicked when he saw the empty glass, cause oh, no, no, this was entirely his fault for not labelling that or warning you. Now you’d ingested five doses of a slow-release aphrodisiac, so yeah, you’d definitely, most likely feel the effects ten times quicker and ten times stronger. Stupid him, why did this have to happen now? Oh, fuck, what was he going to do now? This was bad.

“C'mon, why?” He breathed, running a hand through his hair— c’mon, when would he have seen this happening? Well, he definitely shouldn't have left that thing so easily accessible, cause now this, and now you have a potent bioweapon in your system, so that’s shitty. Screw calm.

He fanned himself— ok, excuse me, as if he was the one who was gonna start suffering here. “Why drink it?” If he knew the timings of an overdose, you’d roughly start feeling the symptoms roughly now, and it included a temperature rise, aching, all that stuff. He just couldn't handle an angry and horny best friend.

How’s he meant to fix this? He didn’t have an antidote — a detail he didn’t want to tell you, cause then you’d freak out — and he couldn’t report this mess back to the CIA, could he? Shit, this was a real clusterfuck, wasn’t it? Oh, Jesus.