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mousapelliTitle: Many Trails But No Shortcuts [Woody/Buzz]
Rating/Warnings: PG for making Barbies kiss.
Summary: Woody and Buzz are on a camping trip with Andy, just the guys and the campfire and the stars.
AN: Nobody else is really involved, but I will dedicate this to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
florahart, who can turn anything into slash, seriously. She, more than anybody, will hopefully be amused by this.
Many Trails But No Shortcuts
It was nice, Woody thought to himself, to get away once in a while. Just him and the guys, no responsibilities, no toys running up to him wanting to know where the batteries were, and if Woody could untangle their cords, and where their other hot pink stiletto heel was.
No womenfolk of any kind, in fact, not for miles. No Jesse, No Bo Peep, not even a single sheep.
Buzz had asked him about the sheep once, and Woody had just shrugged and said that there were some toys as came with karate chop action, and others as came with other types. Buzz said his cowboy accent got thicker when Woody was talking about strange Earth customs.
Woody was in a tangle with Buzz in front of the campfire where Andy had thrown them down while he roasted marshmallows with his father, arm over Buzz's chest and boot jammed under Buzz's far knee.
At first they stayed that way because Andy was sitting right there and they were professional toys, even though Woody thought he'd seen the corner of Buzz's eye twitch when Woody's other hand got caught under the small of Buzz's back.
But even now that Andy was out cold, head back against the log at a bizarre angle and snoring like a chainsaw, they hadn't quite moved yet. Woody just stayed where he was, staring up at the stars, so different than the ones they counted out of Andy's window on late summer nights. There seemed to be more and more of them as the fire died down, some of them blinking, others only visible out of the corners of Woody's eyes. So many of them, more than there were marbles under Andy's bed.
It made Woody feel tiny, but in a good way. In a safe way. He wondered if real cowboys felt that way when they looked up, stretched in front of a campfire. He bet that being a real cowboy was fine, spending your nights under the stars and your days on a trusty steed with a pistol that wasn't made of felt, and spurs that really jangled when you strode into the saloon that wasn't made of cardboard and tipped your hat to women whose hair didn't grow when you twisted their right arm.
Probably real cowboys wouldn't have their limbs all tangled up with a spaceman, though.
"Woody." Buzz's voice was close to Woody's ear, startling him out of his thoughts and making him blurt out the first thing that came to mind.
"There's a snake in my boot!"
"That's great," Buzz said dryly.
He didn't say anything else for a few moments, and Woody turned his head enough to see that, through his plastic helmet, Buzz was looking at the stars too.
"You think…" Buzz's chest didn't move under Woody's palm and his breath didn't fog his helmet, but Woody knew a sigh when he felt one. "You think there really is a homeworld out there somewhere?"
"Well, Buzz," Woody said, looking back up, "there's a lot of things up there. So I suppose there might be a planet, somewhere, that has real spacemen."
"Intergalactic space travelers," Buzz corrected him, but his voice was distant. "If there is, then there must be a real Buzz Lightyear, somewhere."
Woody didn't say anything right away; instead he turned back to watch Buzz's face through his helmet. The helmet had its share of nicks and scratches, including a doozy from when Andy had sent him down the banister last month. But the helmet meant that the paint on his head was just about mint, the dying fire tinting the glossy blue of his eyes orange and distant.
Just like he thought being a cowboy would be fine, Woody realized suddenly that Buzz probably thought the same about being a spaceman, only Andy wasn't likely to take a vacation to the moon any time soon.
Even though there was nothing inside Woody's chest but Polyfil, that made it hurt just a little.
Woody shifted his hand the quarter-inch to press Buzz's helmet release, and when it slid back with a smooth whoosh (Andy's mother really was a master to have gotten rid of all the gum residue), and Buzz turned to meet Woody's eyes with a faint confused crease between his permanently cocked eyebrows, Woody smiled.
"I bet he's a real jerk," he said, "since you were when you thought you were him," and then Woody leaned forward just enough to press their lips together.
Buzz's lips were cool, since his helmet had absorbed the heat from the fire, and sort of stiff, but that was to be expected out of an action figure, even one whose head was painted lavender. Maybe they looked just as silly as the Barbies that Molly was just getting old enough to make kiss, but it made the ache in Woody's chest fade, and was very much worth the way Buzz stared at Woody, blinking, when he pulled back.
"Buzz?" Woody asked.
"I'm a member of the universe protection unit!" Buzz blurted, then looked away and cleared his throat. "I mean…I bet you were a jerk before you realized you weren't a real cowboy."
Woody let his head click back against the ground. If his hair weren't made of plastic, the rock under it would probably be uncomfortable. "Who says I ever realized that?"
"Hmph." Woody's eyes were on the stars, and he heard the whoosh of Buzz's helmet flipping back into place. "I bet real cowboys don't go around kissing their best friends."
Chuckling, Woody thought about telling Buzz that last weekend Andy had left him on the couch overnight and Andy's mother had watched a movie where cowboys had done exactly that, but then decided that maybe that would be a little much for any action figure, even one whose head was painted lavender.
Yes, sir, Woody thought, watching stars wink out of the corners of his eyes, being a real cowboy must sure be fine. Especially a cowboy with a best friend.
Rating/Warnings: PG for making Barbies kiss.
Summary: Woody and Buzz are on a camping trip with Andy, just the guys and the campfire and the stars.
AN: Nobody else is really involved, but I will dedicate this to
florahart, who can turn anything into slash, seriously. She, more than anybody, will hopefully be amused by this. Many Trails But No Shortcuts
It was nice, Woody thought to himself, to get away once in a while. Just him and the guys, no responsibilities, no toys running up to him wanting to know where the batteries were, and if Woody could untangle their cords, and where their other hot pink stiletto heel was.
No womenfolk of any kind, in fact, not for miles. No Jesse, No Bo Peep, not even a single sheep.
Buzz had asked him about the sheep once, and Woody had just shrugged and said that there were some toys as came with karate chop action, and others as came with other types. Buzz said his cowboy accent got thicker when Woody was talking about strange Earth customs.
Woody was in a tangle with Buzz in front of the campfire where Andy had thrown them down while he roasted marshmallows with his father, arm over Buzz's chest and boot jammed under Buzz's far knee.
At first they stayed that way because Andy was sitting right there and they were professional toys, even though Woody thought he'd seen the corner of Buzz's eye twitch when Woody's other hand got caught under the small of Buzz's back.
But even now that Andy was out cold, head back against the log at a bizarre angle and snoring like a chainsaw, they hadn't quite moved yet. Woody just stayed where he was, staring up at the stars, so different than the ones they counted out of Andy's window on late summer nights. There seemed to be more and more of them as the fire died down, some of them blinking, others only visible out of the corners of Woody's eyes. So many of them, more than there were marbles under Andy's bed.
It made Woody feel tiny, but in a good way. In a safe way. He wondered if real cowboys felt that way when they looked up, stretched in front of a campfire. He bet that being a real cowboy was fine, spending your nights under the stars and your days on a trusty steed with a pistol that wasn't made of felt, and spurs that really jangled when you strode into the saloon that wasn't made of cardboard and tipped your hat to women whose hair didn't grow when you twisted their right arm.
Probably real cowboys wouldn't have their limbs all tangled up with a spaceman, though.
"Woody." Buzz's voice was close to Woody's ear, startling him out of his thoughts and making him blurt out the first thing that came to mind.
"There's a snake in my boot!"
"That's great," Buzz said dryly.
He didn't say anything else for a few moments, and Woody turned his head enough to see that, through his plastic helmet, Buzz was looking at the stars too.
"You think…" Buzz's chest didn't move under Woody's palm and his breath didn't fog his helmet, but Woody knew a sigh when he felt one. "You think there really is a homeworld out there somewhere?"
"Well, Buzz," Woody said, looking back up, "there's a lot of things up there. So I suppose there might be a planet, somewhere, that has real spacemen."
"Intergalactic space travelers," Buzz corrected him, but his voice was distant. "If there is, then there must be a real Buzz Lightyear, somewhere."
Woody didn't say anything right away; instead he turned back to watch Buzz's face through his helmet. The helmet had its share of nicks and scratches, including a doozy from when Andy had sent him down the banister last month. But the helmet meant that the paint on his head was just about mint, the dying fire tinting the glossy blue of his eyes orange and distant.
Just like he thought being a cowboy would be fine, Woody realized suddenly that Buzz probably thought the same about being a spaceman, only Andy wasn't likely to take a vacation to the moon any time soon.
Even though there was nothing inside Woody's chest but Polyfil, that made it hurt just a little.
Woody shifted his hand the quarter-inch to press Buzz's helmet release, and when it slid back with a smooth whoosh (Andy's mother really was a master to have gotten rid of all the gum residue), and Buzz turned to meet Woody's eyes with a faint confused crease between his permanently cocked eyebrows, Woody smiled.
"I bet he's a real jerk," he said, "since you were when you thought you were him," and then Woody leaned forward just enough to press their lips together.
Buzz's lips were cool, since his helmet had absorbed the heat from the fire, and sort of stiff, but that was to be expected out of an action figure, even one whose head was painted lavender. Maybe they looked just as silly as the Barbies that Molly was just getting old enough to make kiss, but it made the ache in Woody's chest fade, and was very much worth the way Buzz stared at Woody, blinking, when he pulled back.
"Buzz?" Woody asked.
"I'm a member of the universe protection unit!" Buzz blurted, then looked away and cleared his throat. "I mean…I bet you were a jerk before you realized you weren't a real cowboy."
Woody let his head click back against the ground. If his hair weren't made of plastic, the rock under it would probably be uncomfortable. "Who says I ever realized that?"
"Hmph." Woody's eyes were on the stars, and he heard the whoosh of Buzz's helmet flipping back into place. "I bet real cowboys don't go around kissing their best friends."
Chuckling, Woody thought about telling Buzz that last weekend Andy had left him on the couch overnight and Andy's mother had watched a movie where cowboys had done exactly that, but then decided that maybe that would be a little much for any action figure, even one whose head was painted lavender.
Yes, sir, Woody thought, watching stars wink out of the corners of his eyes, being a real cowboy must sure be fine. Especially a cowboy with a best friend.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2007-06-03 01:05 am (UTC)He bet that being a real cowboy was fine, spending your nights under the stars and your days on a trusty steed with a pistol that wasn't made of felt, and spurs that really jangled when you strode into the saloon that wasn't made of cardboard and tipped your hat to women whose hair didn't grow when you twisted their right arm.
Awww. I really loved that paragraph and the preceding one. Seriously, this is a very sweet story.
no subject
Date: 2007-06-03 01:33 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-06-03 01:37 am (UTC)Thank you for writing and sharing this. I'm surfing friendsfriends (we share Florahart, in fact) and I'm so glad I spotted this.
no subject
Date: 2007-06-03 03:17 am (UTC)Yeah, I bet Woody thinks being a cowboy really is cool. And I totally had the barbie that did that thing with the hair.
Thank you! I'm glad you enjoyed it!
no subject
Date: 2007-06-03 03:56 am (UTC)but best friends ♥
no subject
Date: 2007-06-03 03:59 am (UTC)sometimes the f-of-flist has the best stuff. Nice to meet you! I'm glad you enjoyed it!
no subject
Date: 2007-06-03 04:16 am (UTC)Awwwwwww.
♥ The sigh! and the polyfil chest! and the mint face! *\o/*
Silly Buzz! Cowboys are frequently secretly fond of each other!
no subject
Date: 2007-06-03 04:25 am (UTC)I hope it made you just a little happier ♥♥♥
I suppose Buzz knows about as much about cowboy love as Woody knows about interstellar travel, so...
no subject
Date: 2007-06-03 09:51 am (UTC)YES. BROKEBACK JOKES WILL NEVER NOT BE FUNNY.
This was warm and cute and I seriously want to rewatch those dvds again.
no subject
Date: 2007-06-03 07:41 pm (UTC)Woody + Brokeback Mountain = comedy gold. Just the thought of that was killing me, and then Andy's mother looking over at Woody and feeling embarrassed, then saying "THAT'S RIDICULOUS" to herself.
Oh man, that movie is amazing. I just rewatched, and I laughed so hard the whole way through.
Thanks! I'm glad you liked it!
no subject
Date: 2007-06-03 10:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-06-03 11:22 pm (UTC)HEEE. I HAVE JUST SNORTED DRINK. DAMN YOU.
no subject
Date: 2007-06-04 12:43 am (UTC)Thank you for corrupting my childhood memories. *wink* It's a cute story!
no subject
Date: 2007-06-05 06:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-06-13 11:33 pm (UTC)So, I googled and yours was the first story to pop up. I'm so glad. *saves this to memories*
Stasia
no subject
Date: 2007-08-24 10:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-25 04:02 am (UTC)Thanks for the fic. Very well written. I don't think anyone else could have pulled it off.
no subject
Date: 2007-08-25 04:35 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-25 04:49 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-25 04:50 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-25 04:51 am (UTC)thank you! i'm glad you enjoyed it!
no subject
Date: 2007-08-25 04:51 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-25 04:52 am (UTC)thanks! I'm glad you liked it!
no subject
Date: 2007-08-25 04:52 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-25 04:54 am (UTC)i'm sure there are other people who could put it off, I think just most of them know better than to actually write it ^^;;
Thank you! I'm glad you liked it!
no subject
Date: 2010-04-16 06:39 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-05-10 06:51 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-06-20 09:24 pm (UTC)It would be fantastic if you came and joined the community!
http://community.livejournal.com/toystoryslash/ (http://community.livejournal.com/toystoryslash/)
no subject
Date: 2010-06-23 05:08 pm (UTC)At least now I know I'm not a total perv for thinking it! ;)
Cute story and with the little doll-like details. The Brokeback Mountain reference is hilarious!
Buzz will come around. After all, we know that spacemen like to party! ;)
no subject
Date: 2010-06-24 08:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-06-27 10:40 am (UTC)And now... I REALLY want to see Brokeback Mountain. Not sure what my parents would think of that, though... lol!
no subject
Date: 2010-07-14 02:12 am (UTC)