A/N: Just for the record, I don't actually ship Otis and Oona. I do, however, love how completely awkward they are. Especially when they're forced to interact. ;D Enjoy!

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Otis let out a thin breath from between his teeth as he fumbled with his Winter-inator, which seemed to have... frozen.

He gritted his teeth for a moment as he tried to fiddle with the trigger to get it to go, but it stuck fast in the cold, so he forced himself to relax and sighed. In the frosty air, his breath was clearly visible—but he barely noticed the small white cloud floating up toward the trees.

This is a Winter-inator! Why wouldn't it work in the cold? he complained to himself, getting more exasperated every moment he had to spend out here, knee-deep in the snow on the sidewalk, alone. Olympia would know what to do. But of course it's the one time she can't come to work...

Otis frowned as he tried one more time to get his gadget to function properly, but when the trigger refused to budge, he was forced to apologize to the man in front of him.

"Sorry, sir," he muttered, glancing up at the dark-haired man. "It doesn't seem to be working. I... can see if I can get it fixed and come back later, if that works for you."

Hopkins, who was wearing summer attire as he stood on the edge of his strangely green, snow-free lawn, folded his arms and studied the house again. Otis could feel the summer warmth radiating out from the edge of the property, but somehow, he couldn't bring himself to ask if he could stand where it wasn't so freezing cold.

"You know," mused Hopkins, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, "Now that I'm over the surprise factor of it all, it is pretty nice in here."

Otis nodded respectfully, trying not to look envious as a fresh dusting of snow began landing on his jacket and hat.

After a moment of pensive frowning, Hopkins turned to Otis and smiled.

"Actually, I like it!" he decided, putting his hands on his hips. "Could you keep it this way? At least until my niece and nephew come over on Friday? They love the snow, and, you know, I'd kinda hate to be the only uncle in town without a snowy yard."

Otis forced himself to smile back, nodding once more.

"I'll be over early on Friday," he confirmed, stamping his feet to try to warm up. It looks so nice in there.

Hopkins grinned and nodded back. "That's great. Thanks, Odd Squad!" he exclaimed, turning to leisurely walk up the sidewalk to his porch. He waved, and Otis half-heartedly waved back.

"Happy to help," Otis replied with a slightly forced pleasantness in his tone. Shivering slightly and clutching the inconvenient gadget to his chest, he quickly turned to head towards the nearest telephone pole, which had a tube entrance behind it.

He was almost there when he heard the businessman call out from behind him.

"Oh! Just come after ten, though; I have meeting that morning!"

Otis nodded, not bothering to look over his shoulder at the man. "Okay," he called back.

"But come before two! That's when Lily and Jake get here!"

"Okay," Otis called back again as he walked, becoming increasingly annoyed.

"And tell your partner she's welcome to come help with my garden now that's it's summertime here again! She liked the flowers last time this happened!"

"Okay," Otis repeated, but for the record, he was trying not to feel irritated. Not bothering to kick any snow out of the way of the tube entrance, he ducked and went in.

SHWOOP!

Alone now, Hopkins hummed a tune, turned, and opened the door to his house.

A short snowdrift fell out the door at his feet, and he blinked and stepped back, suddenly struck by a blast of arctic air.

Inside his house, snow was piled on the furniture and a light dusting of flakes appeared to be churning out from the ceiling fan.

Hopkins quickly stepped back, eyebrows up in distress.

"Odd Squad?!" he yelled, looking over his shoulder and down the street.

His average-looking cat tore past him and shot out of the house, ears pinned back in bewilderment.

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"Incoming!"

A red capsule landed safely at the end of Tube #2, decompressing yet another agent upon impact.

What O'Callaghan was a bit surprised to see, however, was the sheer amount of snow that decompressed along with with a slightly unhappy-looking agent.

Agent Otis stepped out of the tube, holding a gadget as he walked down the stairs and headed for the tube lobby door, not even stopping to brush the snow off his coat.

"O'Callaghan," he muttered in greeting, already almost out the door.

The tall tube operator frowned, turning after the serious agent in confusion.

"You okay there?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at the pile of snow that had managed to make it through the tubes.

Otis sighed tiredly as he walked. "Yes, thanks for asking," he grumbled. As if an afterthought, he added as he entered the next room, "...Gadget problem."

O'Callaghan shrugged, watching Otis turn out of sight in the Trophy Room.

"Sorry, man," he replied sympathetically, but Otis didn't seem to hear.

O'Callaghan shook his head, turned back to the snowy boot prints that had been tracked in from the tubes, and frowned.

"You do know I'm gonna have to clean this up, right?" he called after the agent, but he was only met with silence.

O'Callaghan sighed tiredly, getting out of his chair to search for a mop.

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"I'm sing-ing, because it helps me worrrk! Don't know why, but noise helps me concentrate, sometimes... I like my waffles with peanut butter... hm-hm-hmmm..."

Oona's quiet, high-pitched singing turned to humming, and her humming turned to more singing, which then turned into some combination of both singing and humming at once.

"Hmm-hmm, workin' hm a gadget! Gonna make it really cool, so the agents will liiike it! Y'know! Hopefully!"

"Oona," Otis repeated for probably the fifth time. At this point, his voice was very flat, and honestly, he had all but given up on trying to get her attention.

Of course, that was when Oona chose to practically jump out of her sneakers as she whirled around, wide-eyed. Her frantic gaze stopped on him, still bundled in his thick Odd Squad jacket—which still had snow on it, he now noticed, pausing to stiffly brush it off—and for a moment, she stared.

The snowflakes whirled around in little circles as they fell, and the Head Scientist's wide eyes followed them as they landed on the floor.

Then, she looked back up, a startled look in her eyes and a sheepish grin on her face.

"Oh, heh, howdy-do, agent!" she greeted, tucking her thumbs under her suspenders and giving them a very strong pull.

Otis sighed tiredly, digging in his pocket for where he'd put the gadget he was going to have to use this coming Friday. "Oona, I need to talk to you about something," he began, internally trying to plan out how he was going to put this.

Hey Oona, remember the new gadget you were so excited about showing to Olympia and me the other day? It quit working before I even got a chance to use it.

Yes Otis, that's a really nice way to put it.

He hardly noticed as the scientist's expression faltered into a nervous frown.

"...O-Oh, um, funny you should mention that!" Oona exclaimed, laughing in a rather sheepish manner.

Otis roused himself out of his thoughts to raise an eyebrow at her. Does she know there's a problem with the gadget?

Apparently, that wasn't what she was trying to say.

"Well, um," she began quickly, taking a small step back and grabbing the gadget she'd been working on. From what he could tell, she'd grabbed it for the sole purpose of fidgeting with it. "I... just... was gonna talk to you! Was all! Heh!"

Otis stood silently, internally rolling his eyes upward.

"Oona, it's important," he tried to begin, but unfortunately, that seemed to be the last straw for avoiding Oona-mode.

"Important?" she repeated dramatically, fumbling the gadget she held very quickly. "You want important? This gadget—" Here, she took a sudden step forward and shoved the gadget she held in front of his face, and he blinked, drawing back, "—can make butter into cats! How is that not important? Huh, buddy?!"

Otis furrowed his eyebrows, already feeling a bit overwhelmed by his friend's... intensity. "...Oona, I just need to—" he tried again, only to be interrupted once more.

"What happens when you find a cat that got turned into butter?!" the scientist demanded, eyes wide in some mixture of nervousness Otis couldn't quite place. Her voice wavered in pitch, before settling on a high, slightly strained tone. "Or if someone's allergic to dairy but not cats? Or if—"

"Oona," Otis tried, almost desperately, to interject. To his dismay, she showed no signs of hearing him, still caught up in her rant.

"Or if someone needs a cat for National Cat Day, and all they have is butter!"

She was breathing more heavily now, waving her hands for emphasis. Not that she needs it...

Her stare became more intense, if that was possible, even as she backed away from him, fidgeting in about ten different directions. "What gadget'll be important then, t-tough guy!?"

Upon noticing that her voice had cracked, she quickly stumbled back, leaning against the counter and balancing mostly on one foot before repeatedly shifting back and forth between it and the other one. She fidgeted like this for a moment, and he stared, honestly unsure how to respond.

"...Oona?" Otis finally asked, one eyebrow raised in concern. "...Look, are you..." he tried to begin, uncertain what to say. "...okay?"

You seem more... Oona-ish than normal. A lot more.

Oona stared back for a long moment. Very slowly, nervousness crept back into her expression, and her eyes darted back and forth.

Otis frowned, by now just a little concerned. "...Oona?"

Her brown eyes glinted as they widened, and for the first time he could ever remember seeing, Oona's face turned a very light shade of pink.

"SCIENCE!" was all she managed to blurt out, before tearing off to some back room of the Lab.

The half-finished Butter-to-Cat-inator clattered to the ground, forgotten.

Otis could only stare after her for a moment, face stuck in a mildly shocked expression. Then, slowly, he let out a long-held breath, trying to let his nerves relax.

A bit awkwardly, he shook his head, forcing himself to walk over and set his broken gadget on the counter. His gaze fell to the dropped inator on the floor, and he stiffly bent down and picked it up.

On top of the uncompleted gadget, two little figurines perched—a stick of butter and an orange cat.

Otis stared at it for a moment.

Then, he set it back on the counter amidst Oona's cluttered pile of tools, and turned to leave.

Oona'd again, his brain grumbled to him as he headed back for his desk.

He sighed back at it.

Quiet, you.

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In the back of the Lab's supply room, Oona flopped against the pale wall and moaned miserably.

"Otis'd again," she groaned, sinking down against the wall and burying her face in her hands.

"Ohhh... I am so awkward."

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A/N: If Oscar is awesomely-awesome, Oona is awkwardly-awesome. I probably did a pretty terrible job with her character here, for which I apologize, but she is one of my favorites! :D

Is it sad that I have this done before I have any Otis and Olympia chapters done? It is? Yeah, I thought so, too. For some reason I find it more interesting to write about ships and friendships that barely make canonical sense sometimes. xD #otisandolympiaarethebestthough #THEY'RECOMING

Hm, what else... oh! Yeah, Hopkins and O'Callaghan have basically nothing to do with the story, but I just felt like having them be there. This probably goes extra for Hopkins' cat, who I only added because the line about it was great. ("Oh! Make me look like my cat! Have you seen my cat?" "No." "He just kinda looks like any other cat.")

Anyway, hope you guys enjoyed! This chapter was a liiittle bit shippier than usual—sorry, friendshipping fans! I've got more friendshippy stuff on the way!

I have a few more chapters that are really close to being finished... Maybe you'll even be seeing a few of my favorites soon! ;D

#finishing chapters like a bass #...and yes I do mean bass #be it a fish or a guitar, I'm doin' it like a bass B)

Thanks for reading, and stay tuned!