A/N Huge, huge, HUGE special thanks to my sister for helping me write this! At 1:00 AM...when we were both super tired...oh dear... Soooooo I really hope this turned out okay and coherent enough lol.

Gonna take a moment to talk about the upcoming Contest. Since I'm going to be gone most of June, I'll go ahead and post it as soon as I finish this story (which we're on the home stretch for!), giving you all ample time to participate and me time to work on those other stories I promised I'd finish. Speaking of participating, this year I've made the decision to NOT allow guest users to take part in the contest, unless you have a way to privately contact me on another venue or site outside of FanFiction. This is not because I hate you guys—in fact I love and appreciate you and your support a bunch—but it's because I know a lot of people like to read through the reviews, and I want to minimize cheating as much as possible so that it's fair for everyone. So if you are a guest user who would like to participate, this might be a good opportunity and/or excuse to consider signing up (it's quick and free!) and getting an account!

The Ignored/Unnoticed

Agent Oksana liked to think of herself as too tough for most people to mess with.

After all, not everyone had escaped over the Berlin Wall from Soviet Germany and eventually made it to Canada, yet still found the time to get educated enough to join Odd Squad.

Not everyone had been charged with aiding and abetting a rogue agent and stripped of her rank, yet still managed not to get kicked off the force.

Not everyone had staunchly worked alone in her department for nearly a solid twenty years, refusing every kitchen assistant sent her way.

And not everyone had beaten Ms. O in a musical staring contest during the Odd Squad Talent Show—one year before the activity was permanently removed from the program.

But

the one thing she couldn't say

was that she was the only agent at Odd Squad who hadn't fallen for Agent Otto.

Because nothing could be further from the truth.

Oksana hated herself for it, of course. From Octavia to O'Guire, nearly every girl agent who'd ever passed through the break room to gossip had expressed some sort of interest in the rookie agent—how cute he was, how funny he was, how nice he was, how talented of a dancer he was, and especially how clever at problem-solving he was, even if he wasn't all that knowledgeable yet. They also very clearly expressed how jealous they were of Olive, and how good his partnership was with her. The worst were O'Higginz and O'Donnell: when they weren't working their Tube Operating shifts, the two did nothing but gossip, gossip, gossip about whatever interested them. And for the past two months, that had only been Otto. Oksana had seen this kind of thing many times before, of course, and knew how superficial it all was. Apart from his partner, no one was really truly interested in him for who he was as a person, rather merely because he was new and interesting. (Except maybe Dr. O, who wasn't the type to know what a superficial interest even was.) As always, the whole gossip situation disgusted her, and Oksana resolved to never get involved in something so shallow and fake.

Until the quadrennial Captain Fun elections rolled around.

See, though she didn't know exactly what Captain Fun even did, Oksana definitely knew she didn't want Oren to get it. If he was going to dare to be rude enough to let her sneeze without saying "bless you" or "gesundheit" or "salud" or "vos souhaits" or whatever people said these days, then he clearly wasn't fit to hold any type of leadership position. Which only left Otto. Being the subject of annoying gossip is a quarrel between us, alright, she reasoned, but not a big enough one that I shouldn't back him in order to keep Oren from winning.

So that's how she found herself standing behind him at his desk, peering over his shoulder to notice he was…reading a Shmumberman comic? Instead of campaigning? Perplexed, Oksana racked her brain trying to remember if any of those girls had ever gossiped about Otto being lazy.

"Aah!"

Oh right, he's here. Took you long enough to turn around and notice.

Otto craned his neck upward to address her, which for some reason she found satisfying. "Hey there, Oksana," he said, sounding a little confused.

Does he really not know why I'm here? Did he not just decide to run for Captain Fun? "What are you doing?" she demanded, stepping around his chair so they were facing each other. So to speak.

"Waiting for people to vote for me," he answered with a shrug.

Oksana kept her straight face, but came close to dropping her jaw. Wow. Those girls were wrong when they said you weren't too knowledgeable. As far as campaigning goes, you're downright stupid. "You're never going to win Captain Fun that way. You need to walk around, shake people's hands…" a movement to her left caught her eye, "…flip burgers." When Otto gave her a look, she pointed. "Look at Oren."

Otto glanced over his shoulder to see what she was talking about, and when he turned back, Oksana had more to say. "Look, Otto, I know you and I have had our differences—"

"…We have?"

"Big time." Of course we have, you just don't know about them. "Lucky for you, I've had way more differences with Oren," she spat out his name, "which is why I'll help you beat him."

It was then she noticed Otto eyeing her curiously, as if he'd figured out something about you that he hadn't seen before. "You're different, aren't you?"

"Very," she replied immediately. Okay, so maybe he does know about all the gossip that's been going around, and he's figured out I'm not just another superficial.

Or maybe he's figured out something else…

Oksana bit her tongue. Where had that thought come from? Never mind, back to business. "Now, the first thing to do is check to see how many more votes Oren has than you." After a moment she added with a deadpan fistpump, "Let's do this."

But as the day of campaigning wore on, Oksana's little Freudian slip of the mind bothered her more and more. Otto's Frozen-Yogurt-Friday-Dance-Party idea particularly struck a chord with her—literally, as she hadn't known before he'd asked her to hold the stereo that day that he also really liked music, almost as much as she did. Confused by the strange feeling building up inside her, Oksana tried to take it out on Otto by getting him to do more chores for Orchid (someone Oksana knew liked to pick a fight with him frequently), using the excuse that it was all for ensuring her vote, but if anything it just made the feeling grow more. I'm not voting for him because I feel bad. I'm not. I won't.

It wasn't like he talked to her much after the Captain Fun incident, anyway.

Or, for that matter, it wasn't like he talked to her at all.

She didn't like how distraught it made her. Worse, Agent Oburly, the kitchen assistant Ms. O made her take on for training purposes, started to notice what was going on with her. The constant question in his eyes infuriated Oksana, and she immediately began looking for ways to get rid of him. No need for nosy spies anywhere near her.

Though speaking of which, at least Orchid, the only girl she knew who hadn't ever fallen for Otto's charms in one way or another, was willing to help in that regard. "I just came back from the Medical Bay," she informed Oksana one afternoon with an eyeroll. "They both figured out they like each other. Eugh, too sappy for me, so I broke it up and threatened to blackma—Oksana? Hey, don't leave, I was talking to you…!"

Oksana never came out of her kitchen the rest of the day.

Regardless of what the situation was, Dr. O didn't deserve to have Oksana's turmoil taken out on her. Honest, confused, and equally uninterested in the superficial, there was no reason to go after someone likewise so serious and devoted to her work.

So she targeted Olive instead.

Though forced to acknowledge she was a good agent, Olive had this domineering way about her that Oksana never liked. It was bad enough on the day Olive thought she could take the couch Oksana had rightfully found and decorated, though she made sure the agent paid her dues by washing all the day's dishes. But she finally got fed up with it on the day the power went out, when Olive decided to lie about not using her hot pea soup for eating and assert control over the break room. And through some strange kind of logic, the Kitchen Head decided it had everything to do with why Otto had never noticed her.

Did your partner think you should do that to me? Huh?

I didn't think so, either.

Once the power came back on, and her tapioca pudding was (finally) gone, Oksana slid down her climbing rope and, on a whim, dug out her laptop and set it on the kitchen counter. She could feel her cheeks growing hot with…anger at Olive? Betrayal from Oburly taking her side? Maybe embarrassment from helping Otto? She couldn't quite figure it out, and that made her angrier, almost as much as when she couldn't detect the ginger in her lemon squares (which had happened far too often). Her laptop sprang to life, and contemptuously wondering for the five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundredth time why she couldn't have her own desktop computer anymore, she typed in her password to log on.

To her dismay the security question popped up. Great. Now I have to wait for it to process my login before I can send that email. Nevertheless she read it aloud: "What is the secret ingredient in all of your traditional Mexican recipes?" Recalling the fiasco she once had with losing her recipe book and trying every ingredient possible to remember what the right one was, Oksana typed the word 'raisin' into the answer bar, and her OddMail inbox finally popped up. She clicked the 'Compose' button in the corner and typed Otto's email address (soundcheckforever70 (a) oddmail . com) in the recipient bar, skipping the subject line and immediately setting to work on her message.

Less than two minutes later she discarded it, not liking how the tone had gone from disdainfully firm to coy pleading. So she tried an email to Olive (sportslife63 (a) oddmail . com) instead, intending to tell her off. But when it too turned into coy pleading, she discarded it as well. And all the while her anger had grown, but not at Olive or Otto. No, Oksana was angry with herself.

Slamming the laptop lid shut, she picked up the nearest object—an apple—and flung it across the room.

So now, as Oksana was baking her apple souffle for the morning's breakfast (not oatmeal, as it was still forbidden after the Wall of Oatmeal incident in 1904), she shook her head at all these thoughts.

He never really noticed me. Never will notice me. And there'd be no point if he did, anyhow. Crushes are a waste of time. Give me kitchen work any day over that.

Little did she know, while breakfast was being served, that a certain Head of Security (whose favorite food just so happened to be apples) had noticed her.