Chapter Text
The Andy Sr.'s study room was flooded in a bluish moonlight.
The full moon this June was especially big and bright. It's light even reached the toy chest, sipping through its lid edges. It was not an issue for most toys stucked there for at least five years already, but for Woody the ragdoll sheriff it was a huge one. Even with Buzz next to him it was impossible to fall asleep in all of the snoring, muffled sounds and now moonlight.
So, Woody managed to silently escape the toy chest and, after making sure his owner was in bed, get to the father's study room just next to Andy's bedroom.
He liked that place. It was cozy, dusty and, most importantly, still had a faint smell of his previous owner. Woody was rather attached to it despite (or because of, yet the toy cowboy kept denying it) some rather weird episodes happened in last days before the attick many years ago. Furthermore, both Andys were avid readers, so the library in the study was just as good as Andy Jr.'s one.
Moonlight hit the desk directly, there was no need for a flashlight. Woody climbed there, found the tome of Kafka that he managed to put on the desk some nights before untouched, and, with a sigh of relief, continued to read. Despite the dust, it was a good thing that Davises almost never entered the room.
---
Andy couldn't sleep. The summer was too hot for his liking, and the opened window didn't do much. Not that he needed to get up early, but tossing in bed all night could end up in a nasty morning headache.
He tried his usual way to fall asleep: telling stories to himself in his head. Sometimes they were about his life, sometimes they included characters he liked or even his favorite toys, who he considered to be characters as well.
Tonight the story he made on a spot was about his rag cowboy Woody and the space ranger Buzz. That was a huge mistake. As almost always, the story quickly went down South, so sleeping soon became out of question.
It was still too hot in a bedroom. Also, noises - probably, wind, or mice completely stopped to be afraid of old Buster. Andy took a mental note to hide all wires on the floor, remembered each one of them, but it was not enough to kill a boner.
He remembered that the room behind the wall could be a bit colder. His father's study, actually, was the coolest room in the house for the unknown reasons, as well as the least visited. Atmosphere there was rather pleasant, though, someone could describe it as "authentic".
All in all, it wouldn't hurt to spare some time there to put thoughts in line.
---
"Hey, wha...?!"
Phone flashlight blinded Woody for a moment, and he fell back on a desk near the book. His face mimicked the face of a 18 years old teenager who stared at the toy with his jaw dropped and eyes widen.
"W-w-woody?!
It was too late to play dead.
"A-a-andy?" Woody squeaked helplessly, feeling himself a complete idiot.
What in the name of the Colt did Andy forget in the study room at 3 am.? How did not Woody himself hear the footsteps? The toy Sheriff, the most cautious of all the toys altogether, was so captured by the novel that he broke the Rule in the most stupid way possible! Woody gave himself an imaginary punch.
Andy stood still, blinking.
"Seems, the full moon really makes people see things" said he.
Woody nodded readily. Maybe, his owner would believe in his moon theory and go away to sleep it out. Andy jumped at the movement, but then walked cautiously towards the toy with a curious stare.
"You are alive."
"Well, heh, yeah..." Woody adjusted his handkerchief nervously.
"So, Sid was right!" exclaimed Andy with a pure joy in his voice.
"Sid?.." Woody couldn't decide what should he ask first: what does Andy have with Sid, or what else had Sid told him.
"Yeah, that strange junk guy who has panic attacks at a single sight of a toy." It was as if Andy read his mind. "Dude, that's incredible!"
With a laugh, Andy bended above the desk and looked at the toy closely. His cowboy, instead of smiling into nowhere, now stared directly at him with his huge brown eyes, too deep to be painted, and a half-opened mounth with noticeable teeth and tongue, just like those of humans. He took off his hat mechanically and put it in front of his chest like a shield. His hands were shaking slightly. That looked unreal, but it was not.
Woody stared at his owner towering above him, completely lost in emotions.
Andy always was big in comparison to him. But there was a certain difference between Andy the happy child with innocent blue eyes and Andy the grown-up, which made the Sheriff strangely uncomfortable. Since the 13th birthday his owner hardly ever looked at him and other toys, and only now, right in front of him, Woody noticed, that a milky scent of a youngster was replaced by a musky smell of an adult man. This caused foggy, but not pleasant specks of memories.
Still, he was his Andy, right? There should not be any problem with repairing the status quo.
Andy cocked his head a bit and stretched a hand to touch his toy. Woody noticed the giant hand coming to him, but instead of joy he should have felt, he barely managed to stay in place and not to flake off. Andy saw the slight movement of the toy's face, and stroked it carefully, from a cheekbone to the red scarf. Since he was 14, he had rather peculiar fantasies about that face and the cowboy himself, and it was just like one of them came true. Even better, though: while Woody was actually alive, he still was his toy, not an another person.
Under the gentle touch of his beloved owner's fingers Woody shrank onto himself instinctively.
"Hey, pal, what's wrong?" asked Andy, looking baffled.
Hearing hurt in his kid's voice, Woody quickly composed himself. He was a toy, there was his owner, and the Rule was broken - it was a dream come true, actually!
"Nothing, it's fine." said he and smiled confidently. "In fact, it's awesome! Y-you..." Woody began to ramble as always, when he was confused about his own thoughts. "You haven't t-touched me in years! I dreamt of you taking me out of the box! And n-now we are t-talking, directly!.."
Andy watched the toy cowboy with acute fascination. It was unbelievable, to see a ragdoll moving frantically, with its face animated in an almost cartoonish, but still very human way. It's voice was just like he imagined, and he could swear he heard it a long time ago, soothing him in the hardest life moments.
"... w-we have a Rule, you know, but I've already broken it once, so, m-maybe, it won't be too bad?"
"What?" asked Andy. He realised that he was so deep in thoughts about the cowboy's lean form and surprisingly vulnerable face, that he did not catch a thing his Woody was telling him. "Oh, it definitely won't!"
Woody smiled in his characteristical way to hide uneasiness creeping into his stuffing. The way Andy looked at him... It was surely most friendly and loving stare, but oily sparks in his owner's eyes gave Woody cold shivers.
He had seen those long ago.
But that was not right. He was the most loyal toy in the world thus he quickly forbid himself to even think about fearing his owner, especially such kind and caring as Andy. Especially when he accepted the fact that his favourite toy was alive so readily, like it was a natural thing.
"What were you doing here, Sheriff?" asked Andy, putting his chin on his hands on the desk just like he used to during calmer playtimes. Fear was quickly replaced by nostalgic warmth.
"Just wanted to read alone in silence. The toy box is a rather busy place, you know. What about you, partner?"
"...Same thing"
In the blue light Woody did not notice that Andy's face flashed red at his own words.
---
They sat together for almost two hours. Andy told Woody about hardships of being a human, and Woody told him about his adventures.
"I knew something was not right, when I saw new toys after the Cowboy Camp!" exclaimed Andy victoriously. "There were new toys, but Mom said she didn't buy them. So that was your job, eh?"
"You always were a smart kid" sighed Woody with a crooked smile.
Andy was surprised to know that toys could and some of them even liked to read as well as to play tabletop and video games. The older bunch played cards and checkers, while the younger ones preferred action-RPGs. Most of them liked books with big letters and illustrations, despite Buzz, who was interested in sci-fi and publicistic literature about space, and Woody, who was into weird fiction, which he found "relatable". For Andy, that was a crazy, but pretty logical explanation why during last five years or so random books appeared in the most inappropriate places, for example, in his closet.
Both his favorites, the cowboy and the space ranger, turned out to be the best friends even outside playtimes (and partners in all senses, which, somehow, did not surprised Andy as much). Andy felt a bit guilty to learn that Woody was bitterly jealous when Buzz came at first. The guilt was mixed with a strange satisfaction.
But the most exciting in it's own way was how Woody treated his relationship with Andy himself. He appreciated being owned so much that Andy could feel something dark rising in him. Woody claimed he was willing to do anything for Andy to be happy, and Andy couldn't help to be a young man with a naturally changed view of happiness. Darkness inside him grew larger with every toy's word. He couldn't help wondering, how far was he allowed to stretch that submissiveness hidden behind a rootin' appearance.
"It seems the sun is rising" said Woody unsurely, having a brief look at the pinkish sky beyond the study window.
"Good thing it's summer, I can sleep later" said Andy. "Was it the one-time thing? I mean, our conversation."
Woody looked as if he was hit with something heavy.
"I suppose so." he said with a doleful expression. "As I said, we have the Rule."
"And what if you break it?"
"Well..." Woody hold his chin thoughtfully. "Actually, they're for sake of kid's well-being. Also, adults can misthink our Secret and then all the toys are done for. Even if not, no toy ended up well after coming alive before a human, especially, a grown-up. We use it only in the most severe situations, when the only choice is between coming alive and death of you or your beloved one. I can't do this regularly."
"But what if I ask you to break the Rule for me?"
Woody stood still. Andy asked him to be alive around him? The thought itself was unbelievable.
"I can't disobey my owner too." said he honestly. "This is not the Rule, but the natural law. But your demand is against our very nature. What if someone else see it? My friends will be in danger, you should understand. I'm their leader, and I can't leave them alone, especially now."
The serious tone of his voice reminded Andy that this small cowboy, despite his size and adorableness, was the Sheriff in his core, the man of unbreakable loyalty to the laws and his people. He even put them before his owner's wish.
Darkness spiked at the thought.
The man of law or not, that Sheriff still was a toy, not a human, thus it had to revise its priorities. Andy felt a pang of disgust on his rising thoughts, especially the sudden change of pronouns - that was the first time he thought about Woody as "it", yet the thought was alarmingly arousing, especially after he acknowledged so much about the toy's life. That wasn't right, sure, but still there wouldn't be any real issues. Perhaps, it would even like that and continue on its own will.
After all, didn't he dream about doing this for many nights?
---
Woody let out a small startled cry when the warmth of the human palm suddenly embraced him. Andy stared at him, his fingers began to rub into the Sheriff's seams. Woody felt his limbs becoming weak.
The sensation was absolutely wonderful when he was in the toy mode and just as terrifying now, when he was himself. The touches reminded of those of Buzz, and, done by Andy, they were wrong in every way. The space ranger was a fellow toy, who asked for permission and always left a choice for Woody to say "no". That grab, instead, belonged to the giant all-mighty creature, the closest one to the definition of "god" for toys, the one who never asked.
While the middle finger caressed his face and neck, the point one teased his vest seams, a thumb undisputably rubbed into his seam between the legs and the two ones were going for his backside. The whole hand pressure and temperature, slighly changed scent from the palm and Andy's intense stare told Woody, that in the moment he stopped talking he became not a person for him, but an object without any right to oppose its owner.
What did he say wrong? Was his honest denial that offensive? Was it because he forgot his place?
A small brush on the pullstring made him wheeze a little. Seemingly, Andy noticed this, because he smiled and touched it again. Woody gasped, when he felt a finger being inserted into the ring.
"You are a very brave and loyal creature." said he. "How about an exchange? Your wish for my wish."
Woody felt his voice box sank into his boots. He understood the path the conversation turned to.
"D-do I have a choice?"
"Don't think so" murmured Andy, putting a thumb on the cowboy's seam between the neck and cloth. The doll shuddered hard with a quiet whine, baring his throat to his owner by an illogical reflex. Andy rubbed it lightly, scraping the seam with a nail and smiling at the pathetic whimper.
Woody refused to believe in what was happening. It was just like in Sid's... no, much worse, because it was his Andy, who wanted to do 'something' with him while knowing that the cowboy was alive and completely devoted to him. How could he be no better than other kids Woody heard from other toys?
Still, it was his chance to save his pals from the worst fate.
"D-don't separate the gang," said he, unable to stop trembling in his voice. "Toy box, attick, but no trash or selling separately. Jessie won't make through it again."
"Okay. Anything else" Andy smiled warmly. His fingers did not stop. Woody gulped. The neck seam pleasantly hurt, and the ring was just on the edge of being pulled, filling his body with honey-like sensation.
"Don't do to them anything you're going to do with me" said he quietly.
Andy was taken aback. Did Woody read his mind or what?
"I'm from 50s" said the cowboy barely audibly, as if he really read Andy's thoughts. "Saw plenty of toys with different owners, heard many stories. Kids grow up and become curious in a scary way. Even your father did this to me two or three times, although in a toy state it's relatively bearable. And now you."
Andy felt a brief pang of shame. After all, it was Sheriff Woody, his best childhood friend, and now he sounded not himself at all. But after the mention of his father, and disappointment in his voice which suddently reminded Andy of his mother's intonations, the guilt was immediately changed by cold anger.
Being told off by a toy? No damn way.
"Deal" said Andy calmly. "I promise, that your friends - my toys - will be safe".
Woody couldn't lift his gaze. He was terribly ashamed by sensations large hand caused in him. He wanted it to stop and to continue at the same time.
The palm squeezed him lightly.
"Now, for the exchange..."