This was requested on an LJ Disney kink meme, and then again in a Sid/Andy thread on /y/. Thank the perverts. Special thanks to a user over at who helped me fix some errors.
Disclaimer: I do not own Toy Story, and I am making no money from this work of fiction. Its sole purpose is for the enjoyment of fans and myself alike, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Soundtrack: Gorillaz – Starshine
xXx
The whole place reeked of smoke and wine, and had an air of pretension masked by the smooth, soul searing sounds of slow jazz coming from the piano in the corner, where a man in a gauche, cliché black turtleneck ran his fingers in easy strokes over the ivory keys. Thirty minutes away, and in the seediest part of the least seedy town in the world, Andy had come to the low-lit, sultry place only because he'd never been anywhere quite like it before.
Simple curiosity had guided him from his bed at five minutes to 1A.M., had slipped him quietly into the least conspicuously youthful clothes he owned, and had burned his fingertips on the banister of his stairs as he glided slowly down them to the the table next to the door, grabbing the keys, and stepping out quietly into the muggy night as he shut and locked it behind him with a quiet 'click.'
It had been a rumor among his school acquaintances. He wouldn't call them friends; they had all changed so much in the past four years that he barely wanted to say he knew them, much less dared to call them friends. The coolest place to go, the funnest thing to do, the newest way to sneer at their inner children and drown themselves in greedy, adulterous pleasure that they had no idea how to really handle but were still eager to try. A jazz bar had opened on the outskirts of town, doused in the pretty downtown perfume which gave it the scent of being in a "disrespectful" place, but being all the more alluring because of it.
The metal paneling of the garage doors slid up as quietly as could be expected, and he grit his teeth in frustration at all of the noise they made, the gears grinding as they slid up, praying his mother stayed asleep as he walked around to the car door and slid into the seat, swinging his legs inside and shutting the door as easily as he could manage. It was still too loud for his liking, and he froze after it shut, not daring to move for a few moments in case his mother woke up. All of his high school life he'd been good. He just wanted to have one adult experience before college. His toys were all gone, his games all put up, and his childhood trinkets all sold or donated, at what cost to himself he hadn't quite worked out yet. The only thing left was his own childish mentality.
She didn't come outside, and he started the car, turning off the headlights and backing out into the road. If he remembered what they'd said correctly, he knew how to get there. He'd lived in this town all of his life. Even the parts he'd never been to he could find with ease. Having to adjust the seat to be comfortable made him slightly ashamed to be sneaking out like this. His mom would be worried to death if she happened to wake up and find him gone, but he just couldn't resist this time. It had been so easy up to now – always a flawless excuse or some perfect response. Towards the end, he hadn't even needed to give anyone an excuse. They knew the gist of his answers, the caliber of their infallible logic. This time, he couldn't come up with an answer for himself, and a nagging voice in his mind that told him to pull the car back in, go back up stairs, and go to bed.
The lights were still on in the window of Sid's house as he rolled past, and he wondered about him. For the first time since his sophomore year, he wondered if Sid Phillips still had trouble sleeping at night - something he remembered hearing about from buddies at school -, and for a moment, it occurred to Andy to check on him. It would never happen, but it was one of those thoughts that refuses to be stopped, and never alludes to its nature or origins. He kept driving until he was out of his subdivision, the amiable houses giving way to the industrial buildings and commercial businesses.
Signs and streetlamps zoomed by in flashes of color, neon lights outside of buildings offering X pleasure for Y dollars, and questionable women in torn stockings and towering heels that stalked the ruddy orange, damp sidewalks, not sparing a second glance to his car as he drove by.
Sid had become inconsolable in the later high school years. It had taken every speck of his pride to keep him from having a mental breakdown every time he saw a barbie doll or a toy soldier since his childhood days. He'd confided in Andy that the toys had "attacked him," and Andy – not thinking anything of it – told his mother. From there, the word spread until Sid was forced into therapy three times a week, doped up on any number of psycho medications, even forced to take a retreat to a mental health care facility when his little sister left her entire collection of dolls strewn over his room. He'd come back after three months, convincing the psychologists that he wasn't insane, but he'd never forgiven Andy. They hadn't talked since, not that Andy hadn't tried, and at a great expense to himself too.
The last attempt he'd made to make amends with Sid had resulted in him being spit on and having firecrackers thrown at him until he retreated to the safety of his house in tears, covered in burns, embarrassed and angry. That had been when he was fifteen, and he hadn't tried since, still bearing a scar on his chest from where one of the more precise shots had landed. It was a reminder of his tie to Sid every day, every time he saw it. He felt sufficiently avenged by fate, though. Now, Sid was a garbage man, living alone in the house his parents had left him in when he was eighteen, taking his little sister and leaving the state.
He frowned, not wanting to think of that. As bad as Sid was, he was only a product of his upbringing, and he was closing in on his destination anyway. It would be a waste of time if he'd snuck out to have fun only to depress himself with bitter memories.
It was a small, two story building between a pizzeria which had closed for the day, and an uninhabited apartment complex full of broken windows. He surveyed them both warily before pulling into a spot across the street, glancing up at the smokers' balcony of the place, where two people were heavily engaged in foreplay, their cigarettes obviously forgotten as they burned away and bled soft, thick clouds into the chill night air from the ash tray balanced on the railing. Pretending not to have seen, he grabbed the credit cards from the center console and left, so flustered by the display that he nearly forgot to lock the car. In a rush, he hit the button, listening as the car beeped, almost warningly, locking. It wasn't like he'd expected – there was no line down the block, there was no bouncer at the door to check his I.D., and no one asked for a cover charge. He just walked in, and a maître d', greeted him with a dark-lipsticked smile, leading him to a booth in the corner and handing him a menu. He watched her return to her post, admiring the way her curves moved sinuously, snakelike and graceful and almost in tune with the melancholic music that floated through the place. A gentle, lilting background noise for the withdrawn, quiet couples that sprinkled the room. Suddenly, he felt very alone, and almost regretted coming.
The lone candle that danced against the wooden wall beside the booth made long, warm shadows on his face, and he watched it, frowning, wondering if he'd wasted his time. Then, the seat next to his dipped with weight, and the soft squeaking of leather drew his eyes over. His breath caught. "You are in such deep, deep, shit, neighbor boy," his deep voice whispered in a husky tenor. A black, endless purr just ready to catch fire at the slightest hint of a spark, and Andy was aflame.
The light caught in Sid's eyes like oil. His skin was dark from being in the sun so much, made darker in the flickering candle light until he looked like the shadow he moved in, stubble on his chin, unkempt, messy in a way that looked intentional. His wavy, dark locks were slicked back, and he was wearing clean clothes for once, grinning tauntingly at Andy with perfect teeth and full lips. Braces and a shower had done magic things for this kid.
"Sid," he felt his heartbeat speed up, just saying the name making his blood pump with fear or something else that felt suspiciously like regret, "What are you doing here?" The man slouched in his seat – typical – and pulled a crumpled pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his torn jeans, pulling one out and putting it to his lips in a practiced motion that would have had Andy dazed with the surreal sight of it if he hadn't been so angry at seeing him there to begin with. His muscles were hard, gorgeous and refined, flexing under his characteristic black T-shirt as he maneuvered the lighter to the tip. Andy watched his thumb flick the tab, and the fire lit his face for a moment, letting Andy see all the more clearly the condescending sneer he was directing at him. He pulled the ash tray over to himself from the other side of the table, but didn't bother dumping any ashes.
"Oh, nothing. Just heard a scrawny, geeky little college-bound neighbor boy making lots of noises, sneaking out of his house, and figured I'd make sure he didn't get hurt. I'd hate for someone else to get to you before I had the chance." Trying not get too worked up at the fact that he'd been making enough noise to alert Sid, he hardened himself. His eyes narrowed as he leaned forward, getting in his face, pissed that Sid was still blaming him for something that had happened so long ago when he'd been so young.
"I think you've done enough to me," he pointed a finger in the man's hard chest.
"I don't think I could ever do enough to you, shit stain." Sid wasn't looking at him now, and aside from the pang of regret that Andy felt for the stress he'd obviously caused him, he could only feel anger, blind anger. His blood boiled, and he opened his mouth, ready to fly off the handle with any number of insults and quick witted remarks, and couldn't make himself stop to think about it. Sid was the only person who had ever managed to make him so hellishly furious.
"I was six, Sid, six. You told me you'd been attacked by toys. What the hell was I supposed to do? I didn't think you were serious. It was just another game to me. You were an idiot to come to me with that kind of problem, and you're still an idiot if you think that blaming me for some delusion that you had is going to make it all better and undo the shithole of a life that you have created for yourself. Don't take it out on me just because you're going nowhere with your life, never have been, never will be, and wouldn't have even if you weren't a paranoid schizophrenic asshole with delusions of grandeur ...Well?"
There was silence for a few moments, except for the subtle chatter and the melodic notes of jazz, and Sid, who had been calmly staring forward through the whole rant, regarding the smoking white stick in his hands as though it held the secrets to the universe, just raised it to his mouth, took a deep drag, and blew a slow cloud of smoke into Andy's face.
The boy coughed, spluttering, and moved back out of reflex, just long enough for Sid to get out of the booth and walk placidly back to the door. He waved at the maître d', and deposited his cigarette in the garbage can next to the entrance. A cold wind blew in from the outside, shocking the warm atmosphere and jarring Andy from his spot. His eyebrows knitted in anger, he slid from the booth, stomping toward the door with not a second glance back at the place. It figured that the one night he would get the urge to do something fun Sid would ruin it. He emerged onto the chilly street, eyes watering from the smoke attack, and his nose beginning to feel runny from all of the sudden temperature changes. Looking frantically left and right for the asshole, he finally spotted him up the road, walking unconcernedly to his car like he was the most blameless, carefree guy in the whole world. That was it. Andy saw red.
His feet carried him fast. Four years of track, and he was too fast for Sid to avoid even if he'd had a head start and wasn't walking at a leisurely pace. The brunette tackled him to the ground, both landing in a whirl of flying fists and elbows and kicking legs. Shouting slurs all the while, they threw punches in the cold, attacking each other mentally and physically until both of their movements were sluggish, and Andy's face was numb, his teeth chattering as he struggled to continue fighting. Face flushed with anger and cold, glaring, Andy pulled his fist back, crouched on top of Sid with a leg to either side, ready to let the punch fly, when he saw the bastard's smug face. The man below him snickered, and Andy threw his fist as hard as he could, knocking his head to the side and busting his lip in a fierce move. His head whipped back around to stare at the boy, and he laughed again. Once more, Andy hit him.
It continued like this until Andy was too weak to hit him anymore, and Sid was in hysterics, laughing so hard that he had tears streaming from his eyes. The people on the balcony had gone inside, probably to call the police if the wailing sirens in the distance were anything to go by. Their cigarettes had stopped burning, at least.
"What's so damned funny?" He didn't get an answer for a while, only the sound of Sid's laughter, and he knew he should have been worried about the cops – if it were any normal time he would have been, but this had been plaguing him for ten years. For ten years, he'd wanted some kind of acknowledgment from this asshole, and at last he was getting it, even if he had to beat it out of him. His grip tightened around Sid's collar, and he yanked the man's head up from the ground as his laughter faded into sparse chuckles. His eyes glinted with something Andy couldn't recognize, and they watched each other for a few long moments, the wailing of the police cars coming closer by the second.
"I came to apologize." The words made his blue eyes go wide, and his grip slackened instantly, Sid's head falling back to the hard cement of the road while Andy stared at him incredulously. He couldn't possibly have said...He felt himself get pissed off again just thinking about the implications of that. His blood pressure went through the roof, and he reared back for another punch when the sirens began to come in as clear as a bell. The police were close. Jumping to his feet, he yanked Sid up with him and glanced around, knowing that they wouldn't have time to get into their cars and get away without the police stopping them, and if there was even a slight chance of his mom not finding out about this he was going to take it. The wind whipped past him, rustling his hair and making the ragged construction plastic in the windows of the apartments dance excitedly. Grabbing Sid by the hand, he dragged him close as he made a dash for the door, praying it would be unlocked, and thanking his lucky stars when the padlock was rusted and hung haphazardly on the door for nothing more than show. He ripped it away and tossed it to the ground, heart pounding as he forced open the door and pulled Sid inside, only to finally have his hand slapped away. Slamming it shut and making a quick sprint up the dusty, mold-covered stairs illuminated by the streetlight from outside and the holes in the walls and ceiling, Sid raced ahead of Andy, the brunette following as fast as he could until they had reached the third floor and were looking safely down at the road as the cops slid to a stop in front of the bar.
For about an hour, they were there, until it was made apparent that no one had seen their mad dash into the condemned structure, and they left. Sid and Andy had moved closer in that time, unconsciously seeking warmth and trying to keep quiet as they watched the commotion, until the last one had driven off. His breath came out in a shaky, nervous gasp, and he sagged against Sid, immediately stiffening and turning, fist tense and ready to strike. "Oh, ready to go again, neighbor boy?"
"Stop calling me that! God, you piss me off. What did you mean "apologize?" Were you just joking to get a reaction from me? Ten years of fighting and you're still just trying to get under my skin." Sid wasn't smiling anymore. In fact, he looked almost ready to throw a temper tantrum, and for some reason that made Andy feel better. He felt satisfied by Sid's anger, righteous. It was odd. He'd have called it retribution if he wanted to give it a name.
"I'll call you what I want to. You ruined my life," he spat. Andy slapped him then, the noise echoing in the high ceilings of the dark room, and Sid whipped back around with his own punch in a flash. Then, they were fighting again. This time, it continued on for what felt like ages, and the cold wasn't quite as biting, shielded by the broken walls and the billowing tarp over the window. The sounds of ragged breathing filled up the space, occasionally broken with a pained grunt or a cough or wheeze. Andy had Sid pinned against the wall. Too tired to even lift his arm up anymore, he used his own body weight to keep the other in his place, chests heaving against one another's, faces inches apart, both glaring daggers and snarling with gritted teeth. Andy stopped for a moment, his weariness getting the better of him, and the tiny part of his brain that considered the fact that there was an attractive man pinned between him and a wall made him really look at Sid. He was so...tired looking. Sure, he was a handsome guy, but there was an exhaustion in the deep set of his eyes, and a pronounced wrinkle in his forehead that said he spent too much time frowning.
His anger ebbed a little, and he backed off, rolling onto the floor and laying down beside the man. Sid really had been subject to a lot of pain. He would never blame himself for any of that, but he couldn't help but feel bad for the man. After all, if his mom had up and abandoned him, leaving him to deal with that kind of stuff on his own, he might be a little reluctant to forgive someone too...Nevermind. No, he wouldn't. Andy dealt with his own problems.
"Did you say you wanted to apologize?" He exhaled after a few moments of silence between them, not uncomfortable, but obviously tense.
"I did. But the busted lip you gave me might make it a little hard for me to get it out now."
"Stop being such a prick."
"Stop being such a self-righteous little shit."
Andy narrowed his eyes at the dark silhouette of Sid, hazy around the edges against in the wan light from the window, and acknowledged that this was as close to any apology as he would get. Not that Sid had the best people skills anyway. Not like he'd had anyone to teach him. He shifted back onto his elbows and scooted against the wall, lining them up so close that their arms brushed, and the warmth from Sid's body sent little shivers up his spine. "You're right. I'm sorry, too." Sid looked over at him, and even though he couldn't see the man's eyes when he turned away from the light to face him, he knew that Sid could see his, and that was enough if he could gather that he was being sincere.
The distance between them felt very odd all of a sudden, the strange, tense camaraderie that came after a fight was falling away as the argument settled, but the closeness of their bodies made them all too aware of the fact that now they were close by their own volition rather than where a few strained punches had landed them. The cold faded in the dark, replaced with a dry, pulsing sort of heat that they could only just feel as their breaths ghosted over their faces, mingling between them. And there was a feeling there of indefinite urgency, like there was something hanging on the tips of their tongues that neither could choke out.
His lips had touched Sid's before he even realized he'd moved at all, and what was more was that after the first, initial shocked and panicked signal his brain had sent to the rest of him, he felt only the spark, the easy pull of anger and want that had been building up in him for years now. It's the easiest thing in the world to crave even a portion of the thing you can't have, even if it's the chain smoking, rude, go-nowhere-do-nothing psychotic asshole next door that steals your toys. Why did he want this so much? Why did he want this at all?
Sid reciprocated, pressing back into the kiss, leaning in and giving a bite to Andy's lower lip, and Andy took that as the signal to go deeper. He tilted his head sideways, grabbing the sides of Sid's head and shoving his tongue into his mouth, pissed off that the want he bore for this ridiculous, uncompromising asshat so vehement. Sid moaned helplessly, and for the first time in his life, Andy saw Sid for what he was – a neglected little boy craving for attention. What a guy. He could've gotten that all along, had he asked. It pissed Andy off even more, and he jerked back, staring at Sid's dark frame as the tarp rustled across the dusty floorboards behind him. His blood felt hot, and he was just getting more and more angry looking at Sid's puppyish, overtaken form. He stood, wiping off his pants, and the noise the older made as he did - an almost imperceptible whimper - made his head spin. He'd wasted the only fun he was supposed to have before college on fighting with this guy and nearly getting arrested. Typical.
"Come with me." His hands were shaking with rage and something new, a need he hadn't been aware of before it'd been shoved in his face. But now, with the taste of Sid's cigarettes and spearmint gum tingling on his lips, he couldn't get rid of the festering itch under his skin, and he walked off down the stairs, knowing Sid would follow him. How? Because Sid was just looking for attention, and Andy was more than willing to give it.
xXx
He pounded into Sid, knowing full well that anyone on the street outside would know what was going on in the car if they bothered to look. His mom didn't have any use for tinted windows, unlike the bottle of generic-scented hand lotion she kept in the center console. Wondering just how upset his mother would be if she knew the situation he had willingly gotten himself into right now did no good, so he kept his thoughts on Sid. That was what he was after, anyway, always trying to get under someone's skin. This was his reward. Sid gasped and moaned, wiggling his hips and slamming them down onto Andy's cock with his face buried in his chest, clinging to him like a baby. He pleaded with Andy, "Bet you feel all grown up now," and "Please, please, please," and "You never got a school plaque for this kind of extra-curricular," just like the disposed of child that he was – begging for attention with sarcastic jibes and dry wit, and never finding it. Andy didn't say a word, just drove in faster and deeper.
The sounds of balls slapping against skin and his own groans and pants were loud in the back seat of the car, and he just knew he'd have rug burn on his knees by the time he was done with this. His dick felt so good, slicked up and squeezed tight by the man's ass. It just felt so right to pump Sid full of his cock, make the man beg for it like a wanton whore. After all of those years taking abuse, he just felt so great about the whole thing. Grabbing his hips, he bucked against his prostate, leaving Sid groaning. "O-oh, found a new toy, did you? You always liked p-putting people at your m-hnh...m-mercy."
He sped his hips up, trying to keep him quiet. His constant talking was just pissing Andy off even more, and he yanked the man's face to his own, slamming their lips together to shut him up. It didn't work, of course. He began to yell out, calling for his orgasm, and Andy broke the kiss with a wet string of saliva between them, face red and eyebrows drawn as he gazed down on the pitiful trying mess who was Sid Phillips, dark skin marred with the red marks of would-be hickeys, nipples perked, cock firm and proud against his toned belly, and his own dick disappearing and emerging from inside of him.
It was a gloriously fulfilling sensation, having this man lift his hips up onto his thrusts, eyes watery and mouth ajar in pleasure as he continued to grin in his most condescending way up at Andy, digging his nails as hard as he could into Andy's skinny arms. Even like this he had the audacity to look self satisfied. The sky glowed with the light blue that forewarned of dawn, and both men became enraged with their impending orgasms, each riding the other as hard as they could manage, screaming out obscenities and little grunts here and there. Andy's balls tightened, and he was off, shooting his seed deep inside of Sid, and he gasped in a way that could only be called pathetic, body convulsing in tremors of pleasure as the white hot feeling of release blinded him momentarily, and felt his tender member still being ridden by Sid, who came not long after with a stifled cry and a twisted arching of his powerful back.
Andy collapsed forward onto his elbows, and they looked at each other as they came own from their orgasmic highs, just watching, no sneering, no rude gestures or anger. Just that warm feeling of content. And as the morning slowly crept upon them, and the deserted street started showing signs of life as shops owners came to unlock the gates and begin the day, they just rested in each other's grasp.
"Feel better?"
"I'd feel a lot better if you'd stop being such a prick and just say what you wanted to say all along." The blue of the sky progressed into a lighter shade, and the easy silence was split open by what felt like a bolt of lightning. Andy slid out of Sid and buttoned his pants, while the dark-haired man just watched him, the grin falling from his face as he sat upright and reached for his pants, which were draped over the seat in front of him, producing his cigarettes from them and sticking one in his mouth to smoke. Normally, Andy would have reprimanded him for this, not wanting his mother to find out if the smoke was absorbed by the seats, but he figured he could let it go this once, even as annoyed as he felt.
He could just ride home with the windows down to get rid of the smell. All of the former mirth and mocking glee were gone from Sid's face, replaced by an empty straight-forward stare as he retreated into his own thoughts and puffed away on the stick. Soon enough all of the clean air was gone into the smoky haze, and Andy was struggling not to cough, but he held his ground, feeling uneasy about the whole thing now. Sid seemed to get tired of being stared at. Reaching forward, he held the cigarette between his lips and grabbed for his pants, pulling them on as best as he could and buttoning them up, all with a growing feeling of dread building in Andy's gut.
The sun had just begun to glare on the horizon when Sid climbed over the seat in front of him and opened the door. For a little while, all he did was sit there, smoking, until it was little more than a burning butt, which he flicked into the street. Then, he turned to Andy and without looking said, "Some things you shouldn't have to say."
I hate you, I love you. You ruined my life, you made me who I am. You were a one night stand and a life long lover. I hope you die, but I pray to every god I know that you never do. We're parasites and symbiotes, Sun and Moon, steel and silk. I need you, I've needed you since before I was old enough to know what need was. You started it, you'll finish it, or it'll never end.
"Have fun in college."
Andy's mouth stayed shut, and he couldn't make himself move. Sid slammed the door and walked back to his truck. When Andy got home, his mother and sister were both still asleep, and the anger which had so gratified him earlier now filled him with nothing but hollowness. Ten years is a long time to go without saying anything. He wondered if he would ever be able to say it.