Chapter Text
"Buzz." Woody spoke quietly amongst the gathering of toys. "I need to talk to you."
"Of course, Sheriff."
Buzz found it almost sad how he was one of the only toys Woody was willing to spill all his worries to. Of course, there was Slink, but it just seemed really different with himself.
Though, he didn't want to brag or anything… but Buzz thought it was nice.
In the moment, however, Buzz knew this conversation would be quite the opposite. As they walked slowly to the corner of the room, Woody was twiddling his hands, his eyes drawing patterns in the floor.
They stood beside one leg of Andy's desk. Woody took a big sigh, crossing his arms.
"Listen, uh…" He began. "I really need your help with something."
Buzz gave a confused look. "Well, of course. Why didn't you ask sooner, though?"
"No, this is different. It's… I can't tell anyone else about this. Only you can help."
To Woody's remark, Buzz nodded. He saw the stress in Woody's aged face etched just as much as it would during any other serious conversation, and Buzz was sure more questions would only add more tension. "Alright." He offered a smile instead.
However, Woody looked away, frowning. "Since Andy is keeping us all in the toy box lately, I'm worried about something that's going to happen."
Buzz smiled softly now, looking up at Woody with eyes that spoke in volumes of openness. "I am very sure you may be overthinking the possibility."
"This is going to happen, Buzz!" Frustration dawned in his voice, Woody flailing his arms with his sentence. "Please… just listen."
He didn't mean to frustrate Woody like that. The tone of his voice reminded him of the time he came into the room for the first time, ship and all.
"Sorry, Sheriff."
But Woody smiled. His soft, healing smile, and Buzz suddenly felt like the whole world was at peace by seeing it. "It's no problem, Buzz."
They both sat down in the floor, now. The sun shining softly onto the polished wood, warming them both.
"Buzz, I'm prone to… nightmares." Woody's voice was soft, and his gaze unaverted. "They're not the most frequent, but I talk and such during them."
Buzz honestly couldn't imagine the full extent of what Woody has been through, or seen, given how old he was.
"Now uh, nobody else in the gang knows. Only… Bo did. But I can't let anyone else… find out about them, and I can't worry or disrupt anyone…"
"Woody." Buzz was stern, and he stood up quickly, reading Woody's face carefully, now, as he spoke. "I assure you that nightmares are normal. Everyone has them, and you shouldn't be ashamed of having some every now and then."
Woody looked away. "I know."
He had watched Woody's gaze turned back to the other toys, but Buzz didn't follow it. For a moment, as the sun passed for the night, Buzz watched it drape over his face carefully, illuminating him. He leaned in to where Woody still sat, placing a hand on his shoulder.
"But I'm going to be here for you. If you need to be woke up or someone to talk to, or anything at all, let me know. I'll make sure it stays between us."
There was really nothing more to be said. Woody looked up and smiled. "Thanks, Buzz."
…
For once in his life, Buzz was glad he wasn't a heavy sleeper.
He would wake up, generally, to Woody stirring. That was a sure sign of an unpleasant dream. Buzz had honestly doubted the intensity of what Woody described to be "disruptive" the first time he noticed it, until he would find the more he festered the more unpleasant it became.
Of course, Woody waking up others was the least of his worries. More so just if Woody himself was ok. But if the privacy of keeping his dreams unacknowledged comforted him, it comforted Buzz.
When Woody would show any sign of distress asleep, Buzz would first give him a gentle shake. If that didn't work, he tried again. If that didn't work, he spoke his name softly. Sincerely.
Buzz hated seeing how badly his dreams were, though. The moment Woody woke up, he might simply have just said: "Sid's house. What a place." under labored breath.
Of course, it wasn't many nights, but quite a few. And when you're stuck with everyone in some tiny wooden box, it can seem much more disruptive, for sure.
But there were other, more worrying dreams that made Buzz's heart sink. And with time, he began to notice the context, told to him or not.
Buzz had woke one time with Woody moving profusely. He mumbled incoherent things. When he woke up, he gasped, trembling beside Buzz's form. Woody would see Buzz's hand on his shoulder, see Buzz, and collapse into his arms. It initiated embrace that made Buzz feel oddly warm, but hurt for him. Later, he learned it had something to do with the night of losing his shepherdess.
There was another thing Buzz learned about Woody. Well, more or less it allowed him to learn more about Woody. Whatever mumbles came from his dreams could sometimes be made out as words.
He heard "Bo" quite often. Either through another nightmare or just by chance, Woody usually ended up in Buzz's embrace again, and he didn't mind.
One night, when Woody woke in his scared self, he asked to hold Buzz's hand. He obliged, of course, because what are friends for? It was a simple gesture, and it really did help ease Woody back into a more peaceful slumber.
There was even a couple of times he heard his own name. Luckily, he hadn't heard many in nightmares, but rather just a soft lull Woody generously shared to the universe from his mind.
Oh, and how soft his face was when he slept! Buzz really admired it. After seeing him be so busy with the toys during the day, organizing plans and keeping up with everyone, seeing him at peace was like seeing a direct sunset from a window. Oddly, both were pretty, too.
Personally, Buzz thought now Woody's dreams were becoming less frequent when he slept by him. He was thankful. He was more than happy to help his beautiful, kind friend. He was happy to see-
Wait.
Did I just call Woody "Beautiful?"
Buzz turned to stare at the ceiling, boring a hole through it.
His thoughts suddenly were on fire. What had led up to him thinking this? Of all people in this crammed toy box, why would he give Woody that label? Beautiful?
Buzz then turned to see Woody sleeping peacefully.
Oh, but he was. He certainly was beautiful.
That night, Woody stirred. He turned to his side, his body slumping against Buzz's. And Buzz didn't dare to disturb him.
...
He hated to admit to the feelings that grew inside of him. But, it took a few days to realize he had actually already been feeling some… odd thoughts. Lovey-dovey thoughts.
And when he would see Woody at the podium, Buzz began to not only admire him, but love him. He began to realize and accept the thoughts, embrace them, even.
He was certainly crushing. Hard.
When nights are filled with half asleep cuddles and the days are spent sharing sweet thoughts and cares, how are you not bound to fall in love so easily?
But he knew he couldn't keep it a secret much longer. "Woody, I need to talk to you."
And today, he didn't plan to.
Woody followed Buzz back to the place they met before to share such a sensitive piece of information, one that blossomed into something much more.
And maybe, hopefully, this could too. At least, by whatever force dictated his life, Buzz hoped for it to give him a chance.
"Woody." As the sun rose for the morning, Buzz watched it drape over Woody's carefully, illuminating him. "I think… I think I'm in love with you."