Title: Just a Peep

Rating: M

Pairing: one-sided Woody/Andy SLASH

Summary: Woody narrowed his eyes until they were nothing more than tapered slits and continued to peer out through the meager gap of the toy chest, eyes anchored on the two human forms that writhed atop the bed. Jealous!Woody/Andy SLASH

WARNING: Some IMPLIED hetero sex, but really, they're just making out. I forgot how to write hetero lemon scenes anyway –shrugs-

A/N: I'm totally IN LOVE with the Woody/Andy pairing right now. LIKE IN LOVE. However, unfortunately, the fandom is small and there are barely any fics out there. Sucks assssssssssssss. If you find this pairing odd and disgusting, sorry. NO FLAMES.

"Andy."

A rustle of clothing, the slippery sound of lips sliding together.

"Andy…oh, Andy."

The cowboy visibly tensed, vinyl fingers hanging taught at his sides as his fingers curled into the palms of his hands. If he had fingernails, they'd be piercing him by now. Rex, who had been propping open the toy chest's lid with the bulky base of his tail, wrung his tiny forearms together and looked sheepishly over at Buzz, who had a hand planted firmly on the agitated sheriff's shoulder.

"Easy there cowboy," Buzz whispered, sparing a glance at Jessie who was also beside him, her lips drawn into a frown. Her red cowboy hat was currently resting in her hands, nimble fingers frantically rubbing alongside the hat's wide-brimmed edge. She didn't like where this was going, not one bit.

"Buzz, Woody's gonna' blow a gasket," she whispered tersely as she leaned in towards the space man, her brow furrowed in apprehension. Buzz nodded at her and anchored his gaze back on Woody, who had hunched his shoulders during the few seconds spared between Buzz and the cowgirl.

"Come on Woody," Buzz pressed, patting the sheriff on the shoulder. "You shouldn't be seeing this, it's best if we all wait this out until it's over."

Woody only wrung his hands tighter, the thin curve of his lips drawn into a taught frown as his brow creased. There was a flash of heat in his eyes, an enduring gleam of fire and fury and many other countless emotions that were warring a battle deep within the cowboy, but yet he couldn't tear his eyes away. Woody narrowed his eyes until they were nothing more than tapered slits and continued to peer out through the meager gap of the toy chest, chocolate orbs anchored on the two human forms that writhed atop the bed.

Sometimes Woody wished he could vomit, but much to his chagrin, it wasn't possible. It would have been a fitting reaction to what he was laying witness to.

"He doesn't even look like he's enjoying it," Woody hissed, his usual chipper tone laced with wicked hostility.

"Woody."

"Look at her, she's all over him, like she's practically starving."

"Woody."

"Is she hurting him? It looks like she is. She better back off before I- ."

"Woody?"

"She shouldn't be allowed to touch him like that, disgusting. If she isn't out of here in the next 5 minutes, so help me, I'm gonna' go over there and- ."

"Woody!"

The cowboy in question snapped his head towards the two offenders who dared break him from his barrage of insults and accusations, and he deftly glared at both Buzz and Jessie, fire dancing viciously within his eyes.

"What?" he hissed, flinching every time a wanton moan and groan pierced his ears. He could see how they both looked at each other for reassurance, how concerned they were for his well-being, but really, how could they just stand there and take all of this in so easily? Weren't they at all concerned for Andy's safety?

Buzz hitched a breath as he righted himself. "Woody, it's no use getting angry."

"And it's not like we can do anythin' at the moment without being discovered," Jessie finished, absently fitting her hat atop her head. She wrung her hands and took a step closer, her expression pleading. "Please Woody, not now. Let's just close the chest and wait 'til this- ."

"Wait?" Woody nearly shouted, but he wasn't so careless as to let his voice go over the top. He knew his boundaries, no matter how much he wanted to breach them. The cowboy straightened himself and lifted his chin, the wide brim of his hat momentarily concealing his eyes as he took a moment to breath—just be calm, be calm, if you're not calm, this thing will only get worse. "You can't expect me to just sit here and listen to that girl ravage Andy, and if you do, then you guys must not care for him as much as I do."

Woody grimaced when he heard Jessie gasp, bewildered, and he flinched when Buzz let out a disapproving grunt of his own. He hadn't meant to say it, but he just couldn't help it.

"Woody, we love Andy," Jessie started, her voice wavering. She stepped forward and placed a hand to her chest, where a heart should have been, and her expression was so miserable that Woody had to look away. "All of us do. We love him a heap load, but there's only so much we can do."

"No," Woody said grimly, turning away from his comrades as he anchored his gaze back on the two entwined bodies. He grimaced. "There's a lot we can do. We can make a distraction. We could probably get one of the soldiers to sneak out and call for Buster, I'm sure- ."

"Woody, enough," Buzz interrupted, the tone of his voice grave. If Woody wasn't going to listen to reason, then Buzz was just going to have to be blunt. "I know you love Andy, we all do, but you can't protect him from everything."

Woody heard Jessie sigh, before she added, "He's not a little boy anymore Woody, no matter how much we still want him to be."

Woody heard her statement, acknowledged it and stored it away for later use, but it seemed to skim right over his head at this particular moment. Something inside him told him he was perverse for watching Andy and that girl go at it, there was something wrong with him for even sitting through the entirety of it, but he couldn't look away. He couldn't take his eyes off Andy; it was impossible for him. Woody had to make sure Andy was okay, that he was protected and safe, even if the sheriff couldn't exactly do anything about it.

"A-Andy, you ready?"

Woody piqued his head.

Andy shakily stared up at the girl looming above him, brunette hair streamlining down her front and tickling his bare chest. She smiled at him, her lips swollen and red and her cheeks tinted a rosy hue, before she leaned back and reached for her bag. She rummaged around through its contents, her tongue poking out her lips as she concentrated. Her eyes lit up when she found what she was searching for and withdrew with a blue condom wrapper situated between her fingers. She smiled down at Andy and batted her eyelashes, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear as she swooped down and pulled Andy in for another sensual kiss.

"Are we going to be able to do it this time?" she teased lightly, placing a tender kiss at the nape of his neck. Andy stilled at the question, his heart fluttering in his chest as his blood frantically tried to surge through his veins. Whenever they were even remotely close to actually doing the deed, he would get panicky and hesitant. Sure, he enjoyed the heavy petting and the steamy make-out sessions, but anything below the belt made him anxious. Was that normal? There was a gorgeous half-naked girl straddling his waist, clad in only a frilly pink bra and a mini-skirt, and he was starting to feel nervous, albeit a little turned off?

Somebody kill him now.

It didn't help much that this had been there fifth time now, his fifth time chickening out in the past six months they've been together. He didn't want to remain a virgin forever now.

"Maybe we can just stick to the making-out today?" he breathed airily, turning his head as she kissed a trail of feather-light kisses down his chest. His breath hitched at the contact, his insides turning to mush, but he still felt uncomfortable. He squirmed under her touch, and his limbs began to grow fidgety and agitated.

"You said that the last time," she pouted, looking up at him from her position. She tilted her head and threw her hair over her shoulder, settling herself on his chest. "Please, Andy? I'm getting frustrated."

She smiled seductively, and Woody nearly jumped out of the toy chest.

"Rex, close it," Buzz ordered as he pinned Woody's arms behind him. Jessie grabbed a hold of the cowboy's waist and tightened her arms around him as he began to struggle, jerking and kicking his limbs to obtain freedom, but to no avail. Their efforts were thwarted when Rex slipped his tail out from the trunk's gap and the lid thudded shut, bathing the toys in complete darkness.

"Hey, who turned out the lights?" Mr. Potato Head complained as his wife whispered soothing words to coax him into remaining calm. Woody could hear Slinky curling in on himself, trying in vain to block the entire situation out, and Hamm was strangely quiet. All that could be heard was Woody's erratic breathing, and the occasional grunt or two from Buzz and Jessie as they fought to placate the sheriff.

"Open the lid Rex," Woody commanded brusquely, his arms still pinned behind his back and his waist still subdued by Jessie. He could hear Rex let out a feeble whimper, could almost see the imploring expression on the dinosaur's face as he sought further direction from Buzz, but he couldn't—not with it being this dark. The only source of light within the toy trunk emanated from Buzz, his entire space suit radiating a luminous neon glow.

"B-but Woody, Buzz said to…"

"Just open it," Woody plowed, his tone stiff and unyielding. He felt Buzz's grip on his arms tighten to the point that it almost hurt, and Woody let a grimace flicker past his facial features, before he grit his teeth and yanked at his arms with all the force he could possibly muster. In that instant, and it would seem luck was on his side this time, he managed to break free from both Buzz and Jessie's hold and quickly scattered away from them. Before he knew it, he had quickly jarred the toy lid open and hurled himself through the gap, plummeting to the floor with a thud.

Andy snapped his head up, startled by the sudden noise that seemed to come from the farthest corner of his room. The girl withdrew from Andy's chest and tilted her head, a momentary flash of concern scrawling across her face.

"What's wrong?" she asked, trailing a finger down his stomach. Andy gulped and sat up, forcing the girl to completely pull out from him. She crawled off his waist and plopped herself down next to him, crossing her legs one over the other.

"I thought I heard something," he breathed, cerulean eyes taking a quick scan of his room.

"But I thought you said your mom wasn't gonna' be here until 10?" she inquired, running a hand through her extensive hair. She frowned. "You know what, if you didn't want to do…this, you could have just told me from the beginning. I feel so embarrassed when you don't want to."

"What?" Andy asked, bewildered. She felt embarrassed, she? He was the one feeling so apprehensive and nervous that he usually always trembled when doing this, bile swelling at the back of his throat. She was the one who was always suggesting they strip down and do it, even though he was perfectly content with just kissing and touching. Sex wasn't like kissing, or being felt up, it was more than that—it was the next step, a step that Andy felt he wasn't at all ready for. Not with her, no, not with her.

"Maybe you should leave," Andy whispered, not at all aware of what he had just said.

She gasped. Woody smiled.

And when the cowboy watched as the girl hastily dressed and packed up her things, he felt like rejoicing. Once the girl had left Andy's room, the profound thumps of her footsteps clambering down the stairs, Woody let out a sigh of relief.

Andy was safe again.

Said boy was currently rummaging around his scattered bed sheets for his t-shirt, and once he found it, he shoddily draped it over himself and smoothed out his hair. With a stretch of his arms and a yawn gracing his lips, Andy threw his legs over the edge of the bed and let his feet dangle in mid-air, toes barely skimming the carpet. Whatever that noise was, he was thankful for it. Just thinking about actually having sex with her, with all her feminine parts and all…it made Andy cringe a little inside.

Was he defective? Was something wrong with him? Other boys would practically reel at the chance to score with such a beautiful girl, but not Andy, he was hesitant, scared, even a little frightened to go all the way with her- with a girl.

A sense of panic churned in his stomach, but Andy quickly dispelled the feeling and ignored it. He could worry about that later, for now, he was going to investigate that thumping sound.

Andy slowly stood up, his mattress creaking from the lack of weight, and when he gingerly padded across his room towards where the sound had come from, he gasped when he saw a familiar toy lay strewn about the floor.

"Woody?"

The teenager knelt low to the ground and scooped up his childhood toy, cupping Woody gently within the palm of his hands. He felt a shudder of warmth briefly course through him, his breath hitching as a slam of nostalgia nearly left his vision spinning.

He hadn't held Woody in so long; hadn't touched either of his beloved toys.

"How'd ya' get out here buddy?" Andy breathed, ghosting his fingers along the rim of Woody's cowboy hat. The teen breathed a sigh of relief—he was glad to know no matter how much time had passed, the sheriff managed to stay relatively intact, but that was merely because Andy had taken great care of his toys when he was younger, not like his childhood neighbor Sid.

Tilting his head, the teen held Woody aloft, smiling along with the cowboy. Memories of old times flashed before his eyes, wayward images reeling across his vision like a film-strip: times when he used to pretend, dream, fantasize. He could remember rocketing down the stairs with Woody flying by his side, spending lazy summer afternoons in the backyard hidden under the sparse shade of a looming tree while the sheriff rested idly atop his stomach. They were memories that tasted of warmth and sunshine and childhood innocence, times spent frolicking outside instead of typing away on the computer. When was the last time he had felt so care-free, so unhindered by the stress and dilemmas that usually bridled the average teenage life? He had been happy back then, lost in his own unique dream world of courageous sheriff's named Woody and spacemen that could save the day with the zap of a laser.

A frown slowly replaced the teen's spontaneous smile, his brow furrowing. He slowly turned around and trotted back to his bed, taking a tepid seat along the edge of his mattress. He sat Woody down in his lap and subconsciously lifted the doll's tiny arm, trailing his fingers along the plastic of the cowboy's hand. He pressed the pad of his index finger to the doll's hand and held it there—a miniature high-five.

Andy didn't notice the lone tear streaming down his face, dripping off his chin where it splattered on his shirt. Bemused, Andy quickly wiped his face and let out a breathy sigh, a throaty chuckle escaping his lips.

"Woah, how'd that happen?" he whispered, flicking the sheriff's hat. "I'm afraid if I open that box now, I won't be able to stop."

"Kind of weird of me to be crying over a toy," Andy mumbled, scooting across the length of his bed. He leaned back and rested against a nearby pillow, his feet dangling over the edge of the mattress. Woody still sat propped atop his lap, gangly boot-clad legs splayed about Andy's thighs.

Andy eyed the pillow adjacent to him, and for a split second, he wondered if it would be strange of him to place the doll there to sleep for the night. No matter how much he internally debated with himself –Molly would tease him somehow, Mom would laugh and chide him for sleeping with a doll—he couldn't quite shake the temptation.

"You can sleep here for tonight, Sheriff," Andy breathed, placing Woody on the pillow next to him. The teen let a smile spread across his lips as he sighed and made to move off the bed. He quickly trotted across his room and grabbed his laptop, before traipsing back to his bed and throwing himself across it. He landed on his belly with a dull thud and shifted his body to get comfortable, propping the laptop in front of him.

Meanwhile, Woody was ecstatic.

The cowboy laid there, propped against the pillow, a blooming sense of happiness, elation—joy, seeping into his very being. It had been so very long since Andy had last held him, touched him, and in doing so, Woody couldn't help but smile a little wider than necessary. He dispelled his previous thoughts of contempt and jealousy, wiping away the horrid images of that girl from his mind, and instead focused on the light breathing noises Andy made while surfing the net on his laptop, or the way the teen would wriggle his toes and tap his feet to some non-existent tune.

This is what he had been waiting for all these years.

The pillow he was on smelled of the teen, of ivory soap and the scent of autumn, and surely, if Woody had a heart, it would have swelled twice its size. He basked in Andy's scent, in the boy's presence, until he heard Mom's car pull in the driveway outside and Molly's relentless chatter as she hurriedly clambered up the stairs.

"We're hoooooome," Molly chanted, lightly knocking on Andy's door.

"It's open," Andy automated, his fingers flying over his keyboard. He heard the door creak open and out popped a head full of curls, a sly grin spreading across Molly's features as she eyed the cowboy doll resting on her brother's bed.

"Sleeping with dolls now?" she teased, stifling a giggle. "And you call me girly."

Andy fixed an irritated glare at Molly, huffing under his breath. "Get out."

The bubbly pre-teen placed a hand to her mouth and giggled. "Sheesh, okay." She promptly closed his door and Andy sighed with relief when he heard her close her own bedroom door.

"I'm not girly," he mumbled to himself, drumming the pads of his fingers along the sleek surface of his laptop. "Speaking of girls…Amanda. Dammit."

Woody's smile faltered when he heard the incriminating name, but he quickly feigned it and resumed his smile, a faux smile. He felt like he was misleading the world, but who would care anyway? He was after all, just a pull-string doll.

"I'll have to call her," Andy said aloud. With an aggravated sigh, he closed his laptop and flipped himself onto his back, his eyes anchoring to the ceiling. "What should I do buddy?"

'Forget her. Never see her again,' Woody thought crudely to himself, his insides churning. 'Andy, can't you see that I…'

Woody couldn't even say it to himself.

Andy suddenly shifted his body and sat up, crawling his way over towards Woody and flopping himself down next to the doll. He eyed the sheriff, observing him once more. "I'm not very good with girls."

He didn't know why he was talking to a doll, let a lone an inanimate object, but he felt like projecting all the stress and anxiety that plagued him so, anything and everything that could have possibly waged a battlefield within his mind. If he had to vent his thoughts to a doll, then by all means, he would do so. In a way, it was sort of like writing in a journal, sans paper and written words-Woody would never tell his secrets.

"This is my first time in a relationship," he prattled, brushing nimble fingers through the strands of his hair. "I'm nervous all the time when I'm around her…and sometimes, I just want it all to…stop."

Blues eyes fixed to hazel optics, and for an instant, Andy thought he saw something glitter in the sheriff's eyes, a faint shimmering gleam, but surely that was just his bedroom light reflecting off the plastic, right?

"It's not just Amanda—girls in general," he breathed, sidling up next to the cowboy. He let his head sink into the pillow and Andy fluttered his eyes, drowsiness immediately sneaking up on him. "I know how I'm supposed to act around them, but sometimes…I find myself…slipping."

The teen yawned and turned his head, smiling at the doll still strewn across the pillow beside him. Andy blinked once or twice, before staring up at the ceiling once more. "The lights are still on…too lazy."

Woody waited with bated breath for his owner to finally succumb to sleep. The cowboy sighed and let a smile consume him as he listened to the light and steady breaths of Andy weave in and out—it was calming in way, anything to pacify the motley mix of emotions warring within the doll. Andy's cryptic words left a haunting echo, and really, Woody had a good head on his shoulders and immediately pieced together the information until he was left with something significant—he got it. He didn't know what to think of it, he didn't know what to think of Andy, no, not at this very moment, but he did know one thing.

He was the happiest doll alive right now.

Woody gently raised himself from the pillow and scooted himself along its fluffy exterior, until the tip of his boot nearly touched Andy's chin. The sheriff leaned in and ran a plastic finger along Andy's cheek, relishing the smooth skin of his owner.

"I'll turn the lights off for you, partner," Woody whispered, brushing a stray strand of sandy blond hair away from Andy's face. There was some part of him that wanted to hop down off the bed and sprint towards the toy chest, prying it open and shuffling them all out one by one so that everyone could get a chance to be up close with Andy while he slept, but that was only a small slither of his rational mind.

The other side to it, the substantial part, wanted Andy all for himself, and as he thought this, Woody smiled.

A/N: So there you have it! Review and I just might continue this!