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The Glue That Holds Us Together	By : TimedWatcher Category: +S through Z > Toy Story Views: 13986 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Toy Story, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Every other odd year, he'd get a bad birthday
And it was an odd one.
But no matter what it was, he'd grin and bear it. He could even get a girls toy, and he wouldn't mind.
Him and his big mouth...
On top of the IOU he got from his mom, as the video game he wanted was sold out for possibly months, his grandma sent him a toy... a girls toy. Just because he had a unisex name. Mom told him she was starting to get the alzheimers.
The poor turnout of... nobody, was also kinda his fault. In his early years, he used to be a compulsive liar. A fact he was trying to make amends for, which was hard. Who knew people could hold grudges for so long?
He sat on his bed, the doll in his lap, dancing it around, stringing its arms left and right pointlessly; a long bit of braided hair with a yellow bow on it whipping behind as he did.
A cowgirl huh?
She was a red haired, green eyed girl and had a 'boy howdy' friendliness in her expression. Her thick, sunlight yellow cuffs, with sharp looking plastic white tassels, added a tomboyish edge to her design, and those black & white leggings that ran over her jeans reminding him of an oreo cookie. What were those called again? Had something to do with the rodeo - just like the faux gold buckle around her waist.
Sure had a lot of detail for a toy. Maybe that's just the way they used to make them...
He let her rest, before staring down the paper of the IOU his mom gave him, like even just looking at it would bring it closer to him on some level.
He rolled, mouthing an 'oh shit', as he felt a lump at his side. Pulling up his epipen, he placed it, the paper and the red haired cowgirl together on the shelf above his computer. It was starting to get a bit colder, so it's not like he needed it.
He yawned, the side of his face pressed against the pillow.
He expected his thoughts to fall onto getting the game finally and what he'd do first with it, but instead, he thought about the girl and her painted on, blushed face.
=================
He jumbled his key around his pocket, the back door closed and getting closer.
Stepping inside, a glint of the outside hit his back, getting him to turn. The window with a layer that kept the sun and its glare to a minimum.
You know what? It was such a mild day, not too hot, not too cold -- why stay inside?
He threw his backpack near the shoe pile and kicked off his sandals, then stepped out onto the cement steps; the surface scratchy and warm. He hopped off, landing in the green. The grass felt nice on his feet as he strode to the wooden fence, a portion of it a gate that led to a park he would cut through everyday before and after school. Avoiding some weeds, he set his sights on the latch, the oak trees just beyond.
Like a lightning bolt traveled through him, he took a staggered fall backwards. It had been a long time since he had experienced it, but it was a feeling he never forgot.
It was a prick from a bee that had been lying in the grass near a dandelion. He had stomped it by accident, its hairy and yellow black body now smooshed. "Frick! Oh frick!"
He jammed his hands down his pockets like he owed a bully money, and couldn't find his epipen anywhere.
Planting his elbow, he could feel the individual lines of the turf twist against it as he looked back at his house, his chest tightening, his now quickly exhaling breath like he was about to start crying.
So far away...
He limped with a persistent ballooning feeling underneath his skin. He could sense it, but he refused to look at it. For some reason, looking at injuries just made them worse. Yet, he caught chunks of it in his periphery. Even though he denied his glimpses of it, he had pieced together that it was becoming purple ruptured flesh.
His hands began to claw up, the glass and metal swinging outside door felt like it weighed a million pounds.
Stumbling past the threshold, he called out. "Mom!?" He just needed to get to his pen. He just needed his pen. "Mooom!" Still at work, frick frick frick - fuck. He left it in his room, but he just had to remember where. Bumbling past his former room, he swore internally. Goddammit... he hated knowing she was right about moving his stuff to the basement.
The door in question barely halted his progress, as his vision moved like a rollercoaster down the flight of stairs.
He could see his relief. He could visualize it. It had to be somewhere on his desk. He always kept it on his desk!
Light on, his digits curled, swatting empty space of where it should be. He even nearly knocked over his monitor and tower in his desperate search, but was too weak to even nudge the CRT.
He then got a sudden feeling of sleepiness that rushed over his brain - and he had to lay down.
Before he closed his eyes, he had a thought.
Did he... leave it... under... the bed?
His fist smashed down against the floor, before stabbing it underneath, and coming up with nothing.
Where... where was it?
He couldn't talk. He couldn't cough. Everything started to swell.
Now he was swallowing his tongue
With a jolt, he was up, resulting in a swirling, vomittiness, that permeated inside his head that soon started to fade as he stayed sitting up. For some reason, he dreamed about being bound in barbed wire. Instead, his arms moved like he was stripping himself of just plain, weak, rope. He was reading Gulliver's Travels for school, so maybe that was why.
He attempted to get up, but pain shot through him, as he clutched his now sensitive thigh. There was then a thud that sent him gazing down the side of his bed, as he caught the sight of a plastic tube rolling.
The subtle shifts above reminded him that his mother was home.
Feeling like an old man, he struggled out of bed, wanting to know what happened and to check to see if she was worried.
He peeked his head into the kitchen. He didn't know how to frame the question, as she seemed nonplussed. "Mom, were you just in my room?"
"Well, I saw that you were resting peacefully, and you looked so tired. I didn't want to wake you." He turned robotically, shifting through a hallway, a cold feeling in his chest, his mom calling to him as he got further from her. "But bedtimes still the same, mister."
He swung open the door to a ghastly wailing, as he stared down the darkness of the pit to his realm, like it were the maw of a beast, waiting to swallow him.
He gulped.
The first step was nothing, but the second step creaked just loud enough to get him to back off.
He wanted a flashlight... and a proton pack.
He put his foot down. No... that didn't happen. There was no evil entity down there. The cowgirl wasn't even creepy. He must have remembered last minute where it was, and got up to get it. That's what happened.
Casually walking in his room, she... she crossed his eyeline, and then it all flooded back. He remembered - but worse than that, he remembered that he didn't remember where he put it.
Until now.
His head lifted, slow to turn towards the shelf she rested upon.
He closed the gap, her still looking like a puppet with all her strings cut. Maybe he was just being crazy, but he could sense a nervous energy - and it wasn't just him.
He picked her up, expecting more... of a weight to it, for some reason.
Like she'd have squishy internals.
He looked directly down at her, her body lifeless in his palm. He licked his dry lips, working up the nerve to fully commit to being a loon. "Hello." He cleared his throat with a bit of a growl behind it. "Uh, hi. It's me. The guy you saved." What the hell was he doing? He wasn't sure what he was expecting, her still looking up to him with that blankly cheery expression.
He didn't want to shake her around - he wouldn't like being shook - but he didn't have a way to get her to respond. "Uhm... toy... cowgirl... cowgirl toy... I don't know how to say this, but please, talk to me. I know it was you. Why'd you save me?"
No response.
"Please? I just want to thank you."
Still nothing, her expression didn't change. He squeezed her body, but it was soft with only a hint of a starchy firmness. The effort fruitless.
That wouldn't do it.
He pulled at her long limb, pinching the dolls hand. Tweezing her left arm, a hint of weakness. "I'll tear this right off if you don't say something!" His nose flared with a snort; him at his ugliest.
"STOP!" The world, his world, shifted behind the tiny doll - as if she were suddenly growing. His perspective on everything changed in an instant when he saw the fear in the cowgirls eyes, as she seemed to grow beyond the borders of his vision.
He was the one that felt small.
He brokedown.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry - I didn't mean it. I just didn't know how to get you to talk to me." He sputtered through hot tears. He had just threatened the person that had saved him.
"It's alright..." He had loosened his grip, and all she did was caress his fingers. Trying to make him feel better... that made him feel worse. "Don't suppose you could forget I said anything, huh?" It articulated... like a persons face would move. He couldn't believe it.
His eyes moved to the tube on the ground, then back to her. "How'd you... how'd you figure it out?"
She tipped her red hat by the white threading. "It got instructions, don't it?"
"It do." He cleared his throat, wiping his face. "It does."
Wheeling out his chair, he placed her down in front of his keyboard; the WASD keys completely worn of their etching. She seemed to appreciate her freedom, checking herself for damage. Those stunning green doll eyes tracking him as he sat and leaned in, a clear intelligence behind them. Her standing of her own volition really exposed the lankiness in her design. Was it a design? Or was she born this way? How could a toy be born? "What are you? Are you like... the only one who can do this?"
"Guess the cats out of the bag..." She sighed with a sway. "No, I'm not the only one. All of us are like this."
All of them? "You mean that Action Master I accidentally flushed down the toilet... it was... he was..."
She nodded her head, confirming the worst.
"Oh god... oh god!" Memories from his carefree youth flooded in. Moments he hadn't thought of in literal years. The way he posed them. Threw them. Dropped them. Put them away. Down to every little interaction he had. They... they were alert... alive? All this time? "How come none of you say anything?"
"It's kind of on a need to know basis."
"From who? Why?" She shrugged. "I can't be the only one who has ever talked to a toy before."
"Well... maybe you are?"
"... this is bizarre." Maybe he was. "And you're not a demon doll, right?"
"Nope." She shook her head so confidently.
"Y'sure?"
She put one hand on her chest, and held up the other to deliver a vow. "Cross my heart, wouldn't lie, cause you could stick my face into cow patti pie."
"Gross... but okay." He sighed with relief. "I believe you." She wouldn't actually be honest if she were a real demon doll, but... it helped. "What's your name?" He gave her his as a sign of good faith. Maybe he should have asked what her brand was instead.
"Jessie."
=================
"Hello!"
"Hi." He then resumed playing his computer game, but Jessie always seemed on the outskirts of his vision. Wanting something. "Do you need like... food?" He was a little worried - he hadn't fed her at all.
She snorted a little. "I'm a toy, silly. You ain't gotta feed me."
"Right." His disinterest came back as he looked back at the heavy and square monitor, all of the text for what the buttons did having faded or been rubbed off.
"Hold on pardner." She put her boot down on his mouse, resting an elbow on the raised knee. "You nearly tear me limb from limb, and now you don't even want to play with me?"
"Jessie, I don't know how to play with toys." He said as he tried to move the mouse out from under her.
"Whaddya mean?"
He gave up, sounding defeated in his explanation. "I grew up on video games."
"You mean you never played with a toy before?" She seemed shocked.
"I mean... I did, but it's been forever." He rattled his head dismissively. "Just tell me what you want me to do, and I'll do it."
"No! It's not what I want you to do - it's what YOU want to do." Her hands sliced through the air like she were moving around an invisible box. "I'm here for you. Your imagination. It's not up to me."
"What if uhm... uuuuh... sorry, I just don't get it."
Jessie put her face in her hands. "Ah... forget it. It's alright..." She kicked some dust as she turned and walked away.
In game, a spider attacked him. A cheap attack considering its size. Tiny enemies in FPSes seemed to exist just to annoy the player. If he could design an enemy for one, he imagined...
Then something in his brain clicked, as he looked at his hand, his eyes following it as he placed it down in an arched manner. "Watch out, Jessie! The spider's gonna get ya. He gonna bitechya!" He tapped his locked fingers, thumping the desk top, simulating what he thought of as an arachnid's movements as he moved it towards her.
Jessie's face lit up.
Jessie jumped, pulling herself onto his desk lamp with the bendy snake design to its neck, her crotch wrapped around it as she shimmied herself up. "You ain't gonna take this cowgirl alive!"
Then for some reason, he talked in a French accent. "Wee wee, the fangorian snarebeast will find and devour the beautiful maiden." -- he could just reach up and grab her, but that didn't seem like the point, as he made it come across like it was a real effort for him to make it up to her.
It seemed like she had nowhere else to go. How would she get out of this?
Letting out a thrilled shout of excitement, Jessie leapt with the athleticism of a cheerleader, legs open wide. "Yeeehaw!" In a move that broke the fourth wall, she jumped onto the back of his wrist, then ran up his arm.
But as she got closer, standing now on his shoulder, a look of breathy exhilaration on her always reddened face, he did what came naturally.
He kissed her.
The mood changed entirely.
Jessie's neck moved backwards, her chest still forward. "Golly... what was that about?" She didn't sound mad as she wiped the spit of where he kissed her, which required her rubbing her whole face. That was good.
"Was that... was that wrong?"
She brought down her hat, holding it in front of her chest. "Never had no boy kiss me before." She said that almost embarrassed about it, unable to meet his gaze.
"Don't worry, I never kissed a girl before either." Hoping that her being his first would make her feel better.
It didn't. "That's not the point." She angrily slapped her hat back on. "It's really not right."
"For me?"
"No. For me. Ya just can't play with my feelings. Look how you were when I just wanted ya to play." Jessie flipped around before sitting. She held her knees close, but refused to look his way. "I get lonely... and I don't want to be."
Why did he relate so much to a toy? He quit out of the game, and watched it kick him back to DOS. He then turned everything off, putting his focus on her. "What? You don't think I get lonely? Did you see my birthday party?" Jessie ignored that, causing him to exhale in frustration. "I didn't mean to be such a jerk... I just think... I thought, playing with toys was for kids."
"It's not just 'bout playin'..." He saw her profile and chin rest above her shoulder. "You could talk to me."
Talk to her? "Like... about school?" He asked in disbelief. Why would she be interested in that?
Yet she perked up at that. "Why not? I'm here for you."
That sounded like something a girlfriend would say. "Jessie, you're like my guardian angel, but way cooler. I won't take you for granted again. I promise - but it's kinda why we should be... boyfriend and girlfriend." He mumbled out the last part.
"'Scuse me?" Her nose crinkled, reminding him she had no nostrils to speak of.
He straightened himself up, not wanting to slouch in front of her. "That's what guys and girls do when they kiss, right? They become boyfriend and girlfriend - plus, that means you'll have my full attention. I wouldn't ignore my GF."
"But I'm not..." Jessie stopped herself, before looking away from him, her knuckles running past her lip. "I gotta think about this..." She stood, then climbed up on top of his monitor, and jumped onto his shelf. She was a real good climber, and it was like she had already mapped out his room. He watched helplessly as she made it up to a hard to reach ceiling window. He had seen cobwebs sometimes appear there, and hoped she'd be okay. He stood on his tippy toes to see her staring contemplatively out the window.
His gawking wouldn't get her answer quicker, so he sat back down. As he stared at a blank screen, playing video games felt so unimportant as he found himself checking up on her constantly, only tearing himself away to go have dinner.
Ignoring pasta and his porkchop, he prodded his mom with questions about girls, trying to be coy about it. "How do you know if they like you?"
"They'll tell you." That didn't help.
When he got back, she was still up there; the sun having set, and now barely visible.
'Please say yes' was the mantra he repeated silently to himself as he climbed into bed.
What if she didn't want him? Either because he was human or... there was something wrong with him. What if she hated him for the way he treated her earlier? Or maybe she just didn't like his face.
It was odd how a toy was bringing him to tears like this - but he only weeped, never crying out looking for sympathy.
It was her choice.
He just hoped he was mature enough to accept it.
He felt something lumpy land on his foot, akin to the weight of a beanbag.
He could barely contain himself.
Starting from the foot of his bed, she started her journey. In the darkness, he watched her shadow. It might have even been scary if he didn't know who the figure was. Haunting, yet beautiful - his legs and body like hilly, bumpy terrain she were walking over; a scenic view if he were that small - but with her in it, he could see beauty in something so mundane as him just laying there. Like they were the high plains of the old west, she was a cowgirl lost but now finding her way home by using the sky to guide her. Thumbs through her belt loops, it seemed like she had a lot on her mind, even if she had made it up.
"Mind if I catch some shuteye with ya, partner?" He didn't say a word, inviting her in without question as he moved a space on his pillow, allowing Jessie to curl up next to him; her whole body in frame on the starry pattern of his pillowcase. He watched her little hands push out air puffs of indents that had formed on the space, before nuzzling herself against where she was about to sleep; her hat bent a little. He could make out the little things, like how when her eyes shut, the lashes he imagined were real, were actually drawn on.
"So... what are we? Friends? More than friends?" He asked, half tired.
"Kiss me, ya big lug." He puckered up his lips, as she landed face first on them, as her spaghetti arms used his cheeks for leverage.
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The Glue That Holds Us Together