Toy Story Sid/Andy Fic - Sanitation Engineers
Title: Sanitation Engineers
Author: hiyaitsray
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Sid/Andy
Warning: None really, just cute, wholesome fluff. :D
Type: Oneshot
Summary/Notes: Andy has never taken a special liking to men, much less garbage men.
*NOTE* Sanitation Engineers now has a sequel set in Sid's POV titled "Still Waiting for the Airbags"! All time explanations are found there. Also, I reformatted the story to less gigantic spaces. Thanks!
Still Waiting for the Airbags: hiyaitsray.livejournal.com/2281.html
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Around 7 to 8am on Fridays, the garbage trunk always swings around Andy’s house. Andy knows this not because he actually cares but because he just happens to be in the house around this time. It is summer, after all, and although Andy is a rather outdoors inclined boy, he still likes to be lazy once in a while and just sleep in.
Still, around 7 to 8am on Fridays, Andy always springs up out of bed at the sound of the clunky old truck, hair a mess and clad in his light blue Woody pajamas. He runs to the stairs and makes a wild dash to the front door of his house, stopping at its warm welcome mat.
Andy, still with the ‘sleepies,’ as his mother called them, in his eyes, pushes his face against the cold wood of the door, and peeks out of the eyehole.
Every single Friday, Andy sees the same thing - the old black garbage truck is pulled up onto his street, its black coat covered in signs of its age - a thin layer of dust and rust freckled across its broad side.
Of course, that’s not what Andy’s waiting to see. A few seconds after watching the garbage truck, a man always steps out of the other side of the truck. Wearing his stylized skull shirt, jeans, large green goggles, and signature earphones, the long haired man bends over and hoists the Davis’ trashcan over to the truck, his tan muscles flexing under his tight shirt, and dumps its filthy contents into the rust bucket.
At one point, Andy use to question exactly why he peeked at the out the eyehole at 7 in the morning. His mental explanations have went from maybe all teenagers do this to this is just research, just in case I have to write a report on sanitation engineers in the future.
Eventually, Andy decided that thinking about things sucked and to just peek if he wanted to. So peek he did, every Friday of summer.
Sometimes, the garbage man would be singing. Or maybe talking to himself? It was hard to tell by looking through the door’s eyehole. Sometimes, he would slump as he picked up the garbage, as if something was troubling him. There were even days when the garbage man he was used to was replaced by some other man. In that case, Andy usually has a bad morning, deprived of seeing his garbage man.
This particular Friday morning seemed no different from every other one. Just as he always was, Andy’s face was pressed against the door frame, eagerly waiting for the garbage man.
“Andy . . .?”
Andy gasped, whipping around. Had he been caught in his favorite guilty activity?
“Andy, I need to you take these outside,” Andy’s mom said, handing him a black trash bag, “I forgot to put this out for the garbage man yesterday.”
Excuse already at the ready, Andy was interrupted when, as if on cue, the familiar sound of the truck pulling up to his driveway resonated outside.
“Oh, you better hurry Andy! Don’t want the garbage man to leave without this!”
With that, Ms. Davis shoved the bag into Andy’s hand, opened the door and ushered Andy outside in classic hurried mother fashion.
Andy, now suddenly finding himself in his front yard, expectant mother behind him and muscled as hell garbage man in front, had to make a split decision.
One, he could go barreling into his house past his mother, run up the stairs and lock himself in his room, never to be seen again. I mean, it was just a little trash. Surely his mom would understand the embarrassing predicament . . . ?
Or, he could man up and just give the trash man the damn trash. The good, logical thinking side of Andy already knew what was to happen.
Sighing, Andy took a deep breath and shakily walked to the garbage man, who had just put down the Davis’ trash can.
“Oh, is there more trash that needs dumping?” The garbage man said in a deep, rumbling bass, a big cocky smile planted on his face. Andy felt something surge in his chest, as well as a tone of familiarity in the voice but he brushed it aside for now.
“I-I um y-yeaaaah . . .” Andy said, his cheeks flushed. Suddenly, he was very painfully aware of his light blue Woody pajamas and his tousled hair.
“So . . . can I get that?” The man said, and Andy started to extend the trash in hand to the man. He took it, and briefly Andy’s hands brushed the rough gloves of the man. His heart did more backflips and Andy swore he could feel the blood rushing to his cheeks.
“W-well, bye!” Andy said in an unusually high voice, scrambling to turn around and get to the house as quickly as possible.
“Wait!”
Andy, already halfway to the house (he was a great speedwalker), turned around expectantly.
“You’re . . . Andy Davis right? I’m Sid, I live next door.” The man walked casually up to Andy, who could barely believe this was happening.
“Oh . . .” Andy said quietly, his head slowly turning towards the ground, though his eyes stay locked on the garbage man, taking in every detail.
The man - Sid - was tan, tanner than he appeared from the door. The goggles seemed much larger now, and took on an amber-green hue. He had pushed it back as he walked up to Andy, and now Andy could see into Sid’s eyes. They were on the thin side, his eyes lidded somewhat. His pupil’s were dark and appeared to have a greenish tint to them.
“This . . . is the first time we’ve met, huh? Weird, considering we’re neighbors and all.” Sid smiled again, pearly whites shining even in the gloomy morning.
Andy, at this point, was completely speechless in the face of this sanitation engineering God, so he just flashed his own shaky smile in response.
“Well, I guess I’ll see you next Friday, huh?”
Finally thinking he was able to speak, Andy responded.
“Yeah . . . I’ll see you then.”
Satisfied, Sid smiled once more, turned around, and started to walk back to his truck. He jumped into the driver’s seat and drove away, stopping to stick his hand out the window in a goodbye wave.
Andy shakily waved back, still shocked and disbelieving at what had just occurred. He lingered there on the sidewalk for a good few seconds, wanting to make the moment last.
Finally, he turned around, walking back to his house half in a daze.
“Oh, did you have a nice conversation with the garbage man, honey?” Ms. Davis asked as Andy came walking in, but she didn’t get an answer as Andy walked dreamily up the stairs and into his room, not to come out for a few more hours.
Next Friday, Andy thought, smiling at his calendar and circling the date in bright red marker, Why, that’s only seven days away! What will I wear?
Author: hiyaitsray
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Sid/Andy
Warning: None really, just cute, wholesome fluff. :D
Type: Oneshot
Summary/Notes: Andy has never taken a special liking to men, much less garbage men.
*NOTE* Sanitation Engineers now has a sequel set in Sid's POV titled "Still Waiting for the Airbags"! All time explanations are found there. Also, I reformatted the story to less gigantic spaces. Thanks!
Still Waiting for the Airbags: hiyaitsray.livejournal.com/2281.html
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Around 7 to 8am on Fridays, the garbage trunk always swings around Andy’s house. Andy knows this not because he actually cares but because he just happens to be in the house around this time. It is summer, after all, and although Andy is a rather outdoors inclined boy, he still likes to be lazy once in a while and just sleep in.
Still, around 7 to 8am on Fridays, Andy always springs up out of bed at the sound of the clunky old truck, hair a mess and clad in his light blue Woody pajamas. He runs to the stairs and makes a wild dash to the front door of his house, stopping at its warm welcome mat.
Andy, still with the ‘sleepies,’ as his mother called them, in his eyes, pushes his face against the cold wood of the door, and peeks out of the eyehole.
Every single Friday, Andy sees the same thing - the old black garbage truck is pulled up onto his street, its black coat covered in signs of its age - a thin layer of dust and rust freckled across its broad side.
Of course, that’s not what Andy’s waiting to see. A few seconds after watching the garbage truck, a man always steps out of the other side of the truck. Wearing his stylized skull shirt, jeans, large green goggles, and signature earphones, the long haired man bends over and hoists the Davis’ trashcan over to the truck, his tan muscles flexing under his tight shirt, and dumps its filthy contents into the rust bucket.
At one point, Andy use to question exactly why he peeked at the out the eyehole at 7 in the morning. His mental explanations have went from maybe all teenagers do this to this is just research, just in case I have to write a report on sanitation engineers in the future.
Eventually, Andy decided that thinking about things sucked and to just peek if he wanted to. So peek he did, every Friday of summer.
Sometimes, the garbage man would be singing. Or maybe talking to himself? It was hard to tell by looking through the door’s eyehole. Sometimes, he would slump as he picked up the garbage, as if something was troubling him. There were even days when the garbage man he was used to was replaced by some other man. In that case, Andy usually has a bad morning, deprived of seeing his garbage man.
This particular Friday morning seemed no different from every other one. Just as he always was, Andy’s face was pressed against the door frame, eagerly waiting for the garbage man.
“Andy . . .?”
Andy gasped, whipping around. Had he been caught in his favorite guilty activity?
“Andy, I need to you take these outside,” Andy’s mom said, handing him a black trash bag, “I forgot to put this out for the garbage man yesterday.”
Excuse already at the ready, Andy was interrupted when, as if on cue, the familiar sound of the truck pulling up to his driveway resonated outside.
“Oh, you better hurry Andy! Don’t want the garbage man to leave without this!”
With that, Ms. Davis shoved the bag into Andy’s hand, opened the door and ushered Andy outside in classic hurried mother fashion.
Andy, now suddenly finding himself in his front yard, expectant mother behind him and muscled as hell garbage man in front, had to make a split decision.
One, he could go barreling into his house past his mother, run up the stairs and lock himself in his room, never to be seen again. I mean, it was just a little trash. Surely his mom would understand the embarrassing predicament . . . ?
Or, he could man up and just give the trash man the damn trash. The good, logical thinking side of Andy already knew what was to happen.
Sighing, Andy took a deep breath and shakily walked to the garbage man, who had just put down the Davis’ trash can.
“Oh, is there more trash that needs dumping?” The garbage man said in a deep, rumbling bass, a big cocky smile planted on his face. Andy felt something surge in his chest, as well as a tone of familiarity in the voice but he brushed it aside for now.
“I-I um y-yeaaaah . . .” Andy said, his cheeks flushed. Suddenly, he was very painfully aware of his light blue Woody pajamas and his tousled hair.
“So . . . can I get that?” The man said, and Andy started to extend the trash in hand to the man. He took it, and briefly Andy’s hands brushed the rough gloves of the man. His heart did more backflips and Andy swore he could feel the blood rushing to his cheeks.
“W-well, bye!” Andy said in an unusually high voice, scrambling to turn around and get to the house as quickly as possible.
“Wait!”
Andy, already halfway to the house (he was a great speedwalker), turned around expectantly.
“You’re . . . Andy Davis right? I’m Sid, I live next door.” The man walked casually up to Andy, who could barely believe this was happening.
“Oh . . .” Andy said quietly, his head slowly turning towards the ground, though his eyes stay locked on the garbage man, taking in every detail.
The man - Sid - was tan, tanner than he appeared from the door. The goggles seemed much larger now, and took on an amber-green hue. He had pushed it back as he walked up to Andy, and now Andy could see into Sid’s eyes. They were on the thin side, his eyes lidded somewhat. His pupil’s were dark and appeared to have a greenish tint to them.
“This . . . is the first time we’ve met, huh? Weird, considering we’re neighbors and all.” Sid smiled again, pearly whites shining even in the gloomy morning.
Andy, at this point, was completely speechless in the face of this sanitation engineering God, so he just flashed his own shaky smile in response.
“Well, I guess I’ll see you next Friday, huh?”
Finally thinking he was able to speak, Andy responded.
“Yeah . . . I’ll see you then.”
Satisfied, Sid smiled once more, turned around, and started to walk back to his truck. He jumped into the driver’s seat and drove away, stopping to stick his hand out the window in a goodbye wave.
Andy shakily waved back, still shocked and disbelieving at what had just occurred. He lingered there on the sidewalk for a good few seconds, wanting to make the moment last.
Finally, he turned around, walking back to his house half in a daze.
“Oh, did you have a nice conversation with the garbage man, honey?” Ms. Davis asked as Andy came walking in, but she didn’t get an answer as Andy walked dreamily up the stairs and into his room, not to come out for a few more hours.
Next Friday, Andy thought, smiling at his calendar and circling the date in bright red marker, Why, that’s only seven days away! What will I wear?