Chapter Text
On Monday, with Oscar’s advice in mind, Otto tapped Olive’s shoulder. “Hey, Olive. We need to talk.”
Olive glanced around her before nodding. They went into the hallway to a more quiet and deserted area. Once there, Olive turned around and waited for him to talk.
He took a deep breath. He practiced a ton of times of what he was going to say over the weekend, so it should be easy. “Listen Olive, we’re partners. I know that, you know that, everyone knows that. But it doesn’t feel like it. I want to have that friendship all the over partners have, but you’re just so cold and distant—”
“I am?” Otto was surprised to see her eyes wide with surprise and confusion.
“To me,” he clarified. “You’re always thinking of something else and won’t talk to me over cases or anything. It’s not like you’re on your own. I’m here, too! I know I’m new and don’t know a lot, but you have the experience and knowledge. You can teach me! But your always thinking about something that I was considering asking Miss O to switch partners before Oscar changed my mind.”
Maybe he shouldn’t have said the last part. Seeing Olive flinch and duck her head made him feel sick to his stomach.
“I’m...sorry,” she said. “I’ll try to be more open and...talkative with you. Umm...”
“Here, you can start by answering one simple question,” Otto suggested. “What are you always thinking about that makes you ignore everyone?”
Olive kept her eyes away from him. “Pies,” she eventually answered.
“Pies?” He started laughing before realizing she was serious. “You we’re ignoring everyone—including me, your new partner—because you were thinking about pies?”
Olive nodded. “Please don’t ask.”
He shrugged. She answered him and talked back like she wanted the conversation to happen. It was more than what he expected but he wasn’t complaining.
. . .
On their next case, they met up with a woman with a singing dog that kept following her around. The dog wasn’t even hers.
Otto crouched down to pet him. “Aww, who’s a good boy? That’s right, you are!”
Olive pinched her lips together before nodding to the woman. “We have just the thing. Otto?”
He jumped a little when she said his name. Normally, she would solve the case by herself.
He got up and pulled out the un-singing-innator. After getting zapped, the dog barked like normal again.
The woman sighed happily. “Thanks, Odd Squad.”
Olive nodded. “Happy to help.”
“Have a great day,” added Otto.
“Wait,” the woman said before they left. “What do I do about the dog?”
Otto lifted a hand. “I can keep him!”
Olive sighed. “You can’t keep him, Otto.”
“But—” She took his hand and dragged him to the tube system.
. . .
Otto leaned back in his desk chair and counted the cases he and Olive solved on his fingers. “Twenty-three... Twenty-four... Twenty-five cases solved!”
Olive thought before smiling. “Halfway to fifty.”
Otto’s smile grew wider when he realized this was the first time he saw her smile. And she had dimples, too—adorable!
“High five!” Even though he said that, he made it into a secret handshake and was pleasantly surprised when Olive followed in suit. When they finished, his smile was wider than ever. “Boom-handshake-alotta!”
Olive frowned. “Handshake-alotta?”
“You forgot the ‘boom’.”
“Should I expect this often?”
“Very.”
Olive tried to have a look of disapproval while she shook her head, but a smile managed to creep its way through.
. . .
Olive frowned at Otto slowly tapping a pencil against his desk with a frown on his face. “Bad day?” she asked.
“Let’s not talk about it...” Otto wasn’t even ready to think about it.
“We don’t have much to do,” she said. “We could...go to the pillow room?”
“Too far.”
“The bubble room?”
“Don’t feel like it.”
“How about the ice cream room?”
Now she had his attention. “There’s an ice cream room?”
Olive nodded. “It’s farther than the pillow room though...”
“So? Come on!” Otto stood up and headed for the nearest hallway. He turned around for the other hallway when hearing Olive tell him he was going the wrong way.
Ice cream room, ice cream room, ice cream room!
. . .
With each day, Olive talked to him more and seemed more relaxed. Oscar started noticing and told Otto that he would achieve his want of being friends with Olive.
“She might think of it as a work-only friendship right now,” he told him, “but soon enough, she’ll see you as her best friend!”
Olive started talking more to other agents too. Miss O was so satisfied when seeing Olive flinch when she appeared out of nowhere that she helped herself to not one, not two, but ten juice boxes.
Otto got to know more about her too. He learned she hated Soundcheck—a big no-no in his book, but he was willing to make her the exception—loved the Bears, worked at Odd Squad for several years, and, despite her name, hated olives.
Still, despite how close they gotten, she wouldn’t explain what she was thinking about. He knew that there had to be something more to it than just pies and thought about it every now and then, but he didn’t for most of it. He did the same with her old partner. Unless Olive told him, he wouldn’t be bothered—except for her old partner. They were brought up every now and then, but the subject was quickly changed.
But it didn’t matter. Olive and him were friends now and the still had a lot of odd cases to solve, but he knew they could handle it together.