Disclaimer: I do not own Pushing Daisies nor do I take claim to it…
Author's Note: Hello all, this is a little Ned/Olive oneshot I wrote a while ago...characters might seem a bit ooc, but I hope you enjoy!
Summary: Olive and Ned share a midnight snack at The Pie Hole...
In One Moment-
-A One Shot
At this exact moment Olive Snook was twenty-nine years, six months, 2weeks, 5days, 18 hours and 36 minutes old. She was once again suffering from her insomnia.
She stared blankly at the ceiling. She felt bad for the ceiling. Unlike the floor, which got constant attention from being walked on day in and out, the ceiling got hardly any attention at all. Except for the occasional dust or paint, which hardly ever happened, the ceiling went unnoticed. Day after day after day after day.
Olive sighed and turned on her side, wondering how her life had been resulted to her staying up late inadvertently comparing her life to her bedroom ceiling.
She sighed again, taking note of the empty bedside next to her. So blank and bare. It's not that it had to be, she mused, running her hand over the smooth sheets. She had offers every day by men who came into the Pie Hole just to see her. To shamelessly flirt with her. She could choose anyone and he would come running at a moments notice, answering to her every demand. But she didn't. She waited patiently every day for that fleeting glance from the one person who mattered to her above all else.
With a groan Olive turned onto her back, throwing her arm over her eyes. How she wished Digby were with her right now. It was pathetic really, relying on a dog to fill a void with the feelings she had for his owner. At least when she watched Digby he filled the empty space that was her bedside, if only for a night or a few hours. And for those scarce few moments, she didn't feel alone.
Feeling terribly more depressed than she had mere seconds before, Olive threw the sheets off her and crawled to the end of her bed, reaching under the mattress in search for the alcohol she secretly stored. Her hand was met with only one bottle, with a triumphant chuckle she pulled the bottle out, her depression sinking when she found it empty.
There was only one fix to replace alcohol, as Olive knew, so she quickly jumped off her bed, stumbling slightly and almost falling to the ground. Clumsily, she staggered to the kitchen, trying to sooth the ache in her knee that came as she tumbled into the doorway of the room.
Without hesitation she pulled the freezer door opened, standing on her toes and pulling herself up to look into the cold. Empty.
"Damn," she cursed quietly. Stepping back and closing the small door, she crossed her arms and tapped her foot. There was only one way she was going to get her fix now and she wasn't sure she liked the idea.
It had only been thirty-eight hours, twenty-four minutes, and eighteen seconds since the Halloween incident and Olive Snook still did not like leaving her house at night. There were no ghosts out to kill her now, but it didn't change the fact that there was still no Ned to save her.
Before her heart could fall, Olive shook her head and straightened her shoulders. She quickly changed into a pair of sweat pants and a sweater, grabbed her keys (and her baseball bat, that she kept for good measure), and walked out the door.
The facts were these: Olive Snook wanted ice cream…and she wanted it now.
As Olive quietly opened the Pie Hole and stepped inside to retrieve her midnight treat, the pie maker, himself, was suffering from insomnia.
Ned stood at his window, looking out into the cold November night. He didn't understand why he was having trouble sleeping, nor did he care to find out. The pie maker often found that thinking at night when trying to sleep was a horrible idea that only led to no answers; so he stared blankly ignoring that nagging feeling that his life had become more complicated than he cared to believe.
Digby quietly entered the kitchen where Ned stood and sat, stating at his master imploringly. Ned turned, reaching his hand to pet the dog, before pulling back. Olive's words echoed in his mind Do you touch him? The pie maker sighed and turned back to the window. "You don't mind that I don't touch you, right?" he asked his dog again. "I mean, I do touch you. In a way, but it's still touching…"
Ned's voice trailed off as he noticed a light flicker on, on the street below. Under any other circumstances Ned would not have cared. But it was the distinct placing of the light that made the pie maker's heart stop. The light could only belong to one place: The Pie Hole.
Ned's heart started again, faster than before. Ever since the Schatz Brothers incident Ned had the creeping fear that some one would break into his beloved shop and place another dead body in his freezer. Unlikely, but a fear none-the-less.
Without another thought Ned ran from his apartment to the street below, forgetting to lock his door and forgetting his shoes.
The pie maker quietly opened the Pie Hole door, taking no notice to the fact that the only plausible way it had to have been opened was with a key. He did, however, take notice of the baseball bat that was placed nicely on the counter. Thinking quickly, he picked up the bat and crept to the kitchen, where he could see the silhouette of a person rummaging through the freezer. He stopped, bat held high above his head ready to strike.
Ned tried to find his voice to make the person aware of his presence, but he couldn't. As he was frozen in fear as well. The rushing pounding of his own blood in his ears prevented the pie maker from nothing that the perpetrated was humming a small tune; his angle of the person preventing him from noting that they were swaying slighty.
Ned watched, clutching the bat tighter, as the person slowly stepped back from the freezer, closing it with their hip. It was now obvious that his unwanted companion was a woman, though she still had her back to him. In a painful slowness she turned, clutching something in her arms. Their eyes met, Ned having little time to register anything before she jumped, screamed, and fell to the floor, the now recognizable tub of ice cream rolling on the ground.
Ned took a step forward, lowering the bat. "Olive?" he asked, standing over the small woman who was now lying haphazardly on the ground, rubbing her head.
"Ow."
"Here put this on your head," Ned said, placing an ice-filled rag against the back of Olive's head.
Olive winced at the pain but placed her hand over the top of the rag, brushing Ned's hand as he removed his in the process. She shuddered, though she wasn't sure if it was from the ice or the contact. "Thanks," she muttered quietly, her cheeks a rosy pink from blushing.
"What are you doing down here at this time of night?" Ned asked, taking a seat at the bar next to the petite woman.
With her free hand, Olive pointed to the ice cream carton that was still lying on the floor, forgotten in their confusion. "I wanted ice cream."
Ned raised an eyebrow. "At this time of night?"
"I couldn't sleep; it was either booze or ice cream. Ice cream won out."
Ned chuckled slightly as he stood retrieving the ice cream from the ground then getting two spoons and two bowls. "But why come down here? What about your apartment?" he asked, popping the top off the carton.
"Fresh out." She paused watching as Ned's face contorted slightly as he scooped the ice cream into their respective bowls. "Is it okay that I came down here?" she asked, not wanting to disappoint the pie maker in anyway.
"Hm? Oh, yeah of course," Ned replied with the wave of a hand. "Here," he finished, returning to his seat at the counter handing Olive her ice cream.
"Thanks."
The two lapsed into a silence. Olive had never eaten with Ned before, though she had often dreamed of it. And though they were merely sharing a midnight snack of ice cream it was still a meal none-the-less and Olive found herself unable to think.
"H-how did you know I was down here?"
"I saw the light come on from my window."
"Couldn't sleep either?"
Ned smiled softly. How Olive loved that smile. "Nope." The pie maker looked at the baseball bat that he had once again placed on the counter. Suddenly wondering why Olive had brought the object with her. "Why did you bring the bat here?"
Olive giggled softly and took a bight of ice ream. "I – uh, still feel like the ghost of John Joseph Jacobs is out to get me…?"
Ned smiled softly, "Right."
"Why did you feel the need to scare the crap out of me with it?" Olive countered.
Ned scratched the back of his neck. "I still feel like someone is going to place another Schatz brother in my freezer..?"
"I think we both have problems."
"Just a little."
"Paranoia."
"Certifiable."
The two once again fell in a companionable silence; Ned smiling thoughtfully and Olive trying to quell her racing heart. Their silence was interrupted when the sound of the door's bell jingled, followed by aloud bang and the thud of the door closing. Olive jumped, Ned instinctively placing his hand atop hers to calm her. The pie maker turned slowly as he stood, blocking Olive, while the blonde grasped his hand tighter.
"I—Digby?" Ned asked, upon seeing his faithful companion sitting before him, his own shoes haphazardly placed at the dog's feet.
"Digby?!" Olive asked, overjoyed, sticking her head around Ned's shoulder to see.
Ned clumsily stepped back as Digby ran forward, and half jumped up into Olive's lap, trying to avoid contact with his dog. As the pie maker stood, watching his dog lovingly lick Olive's cheek, his own hand clutched tightly in Olive's hand, he was suddenly overcome with the family feeling of another part of Olive's body that had been pressed firmly to his merely over twenty-four hours ago.
"Looks like you forgot something," Olive giggled, as Digby jumped off her lap and went back to Ned's shoes on the floor.
"Yeah--" Ned replied, absentmindedly, not looking at Digby but at his human companion. "O-o-olive?"
"Hm?" Olive replied, more than distracted. She, like the man she so adored, was also more than distracted. She could hardly feel beyond the feeling of Ned's hand holding hers. Hardly think beyond the idea that Ned was actually holding her hand. And she could hardly hear beyond the rush of blood to her ears. Olive was more than certain that she was floating at that exact moment. She had waited so long for contact like this from Ned, willing contact that is. And the flood of warmth that washed through her was unlike anything she had ever experienced before. Heaven…yes, she was positive this is what heaven was like.
"About the other night…" Ned spoke again, his voice hesitant as it trailed off.
"Oh…" Olive's voice fell at the tone of Ned's, and she reluctantly slipped her hand from his.
Ned felt his stomach drop from the loss of Olive's warm hand. He looked to her, as she tried to hide her face. There had never been a moment in the time that he had known Olive that he didn't find her attractive. In fact, he found her highly attractive; often watching, in some out of body experience, as he fell victim to her appeal. But then there was Chuck. There was always Chuck, even when they had been separated for twenty years she had always been at the back of his mind, lurking, waiting for the memory of her to be woken.
And Olive was…Olive. But she was a woman. She was smart, funny, a woman he could talk to, a woman he could trust. A beautiful woman. A woman he could…touch.
Ned swallowed a lump that formed in his throat. "Why did you…why did you do it?" he finally asked, his voice squeaking like it hadn't for nearly fifteen years.
"Do what?" Olive groaned, her face hidden in her hands. She couldn't believe this had happened. Was happening. She loved him, but he loved Chuck. Chuck. That awful woman who had some how, in the last twenty-four hours, become her friend.
If Chuck wasn't in the picture, things would be so much easier. The kiss would have been shy and coy, not embarrassing with the after affects of rejection. No, this was bad, and the conversation was left unspoken; just like the incident was better left forgotten.
Ned cleared his throat. "Why did you," he paused, deciding whether or not to continue. "Kiss me," he finished his voice near a whisper.
Olive froze and she felt the beginnings of tears form in her eyes. Typical over-emotional woman, she thought of herself. "I don't think I know what you're talking about," she mumbled from beneath her hands, knowing that playing dumb was pointless.
Ned sighed and moved closer, taking Olive's wrist in his hands and prying her hands from her face. He kept a light hold on her wrists, to make sure she didn't move them back. She avoided his gaze, keeping her eyes fixed on the last remains of the Halloween decorations. "Olive," he whispered, his voice making her look at him.
Olive was surprised at the amount of true and sincere curiosity she saw looking back at her. She wondered briefly if all men were really as slow as Ned was. She practically pronounced her love for him every day, and he was gall enough to ask her why she had kissed him? Was he really going to make her say it? Or was he just mocking her? The look in his eyes told her it was the former.
She sighed. She had already come this far, allowing herself to kiss him and in return being dropped like a sack of potatoes. What more did she have to lose?
"B-b-because, I—you know." She began shyly. Ned raised his brow at her lack of response. "I—I you know, I," she moved their hands back and forth between their bodies to indicate her feelings. "You."
"You," Ned repeated her motions, "Me?"
Olive sighed and pulled her hands out of his gentler grasp, averting her eyes. "I love you," she whispered, almost inaudibly. Ned, however, heard it louder than a bell.
The pie maker froze. Love was the last thing he had expected to come from Olive's think lips, though he couldn't name what would have been his first guess. It was all so—Ned suddenly registered the solemn sound of Olive's voice and felt his own heart sink. Was it a bad thing to love him? "Is it bad to love me?" he asked, before he could stop.
Olive snorted, meeting his gaze once again. "My god, Ned, I'm worse than a hormonal teenager on Valentine's Day," she bit sarcastically, yet truthfully.
Without knowing what he was doing, Ned reached forward and took hold of Olive's hand, once again. "A hormonal teenager on Valentine's Day?" he asked, slightly amused.
Olive gasped, "Sp-speaking metaphorically, that is," she breathed, trying to control her breathing that had once again been sky rocketed at the contact. She swallowed and looked up to find Ned had yet to take his eyes off of her.
She offered a shy, small smile.
As Olive wondered what was going to happen next and if she had officially ruined her relationship, of any kind, with Ned; the pie maker took a tentative step forward, closing the gap between their bodies.
Suddenly Olive was scared. She watched in horror as Ned leaned forward, waiting for her to meet him half way. Her mind raced. Was he doing this because he wanted to? Or because he pitied her? What was he doing? "Ned, what are you doing?" she asked, slightly distracted by the feel of his breath on her lips.
"I—I don't know," he replied, before growing impatient and closing the remaining distance between them.
All coherent thought left Olive Snook's mind as Ned pressed his lips to hers. She remained immobile for a split, before responding to the kiss with gusto. Nothing seemed to matter at the moment. Nothing more than the earth shattering feeling of Ned kissing her. She lost herself, readily and willingly, not caring what happened in ten minutes or tomorrow. Not caring that Digby was quietly watching their special moment. Not caring whether her newly formed relationship with Chuck was now ruined. Not caring if any form of a relationship with Ned was now ruined. All that mattered was the now.
She let out a small moan as Ned lifted her from her seat and onto the counter top to even out their height difference a little more.
Yes all that mattered was this feeling. This experience. She resigned herself. She had waited for this moment, this sensation, for so long and nothing and nobody was going to ruin it. Olive wrapped her legs around Ned's body, bring his body flush against hers. Yes, this was all that mattered…
As Olive and the pie maker lost themselves in their embrace a similar thought crossed both their minds…
Don't tell Chuck.
Fin
Author's Note: Well there you go! Hope you liked it!