Forward: Ever since seeing Toy Story 3, I've been unable to get the idea of a romance between Andy and Bonnie out of my head. Although the age difference is extreme, it's not unusual, and I intend to keep this below PG-13. Bonnie is fairly young for my stories, and Andy is in his twenties, so there will be no sexual content in these stories. I'm using a set of prompts called 20x5, and I'm using set seven. Please be kind, enjoy, and if you don't enjoy May-December relationships, please don't read any further.

1. Estranged Existence

Eleven was a strange age to be. Trying to settle in to sixth grade, with no recess and cliques of popular girls and popular boys to try and navigate, and it was more than a little bit daunting. She'd always been an odd one; combining bright colors and wild patterns, keeping her hair short while the other girls her age kept their hair slicked back in perfectly groomed ponytails. She kept to herself, keeping her nose buried in a book rather than conversing with her classmates between classes.

Although it concerned her mother that she had no close friends to invite to her birthday party, it didn't particularly bother Bonnie. Her teachers said she was wildly gifted, much more intelligent and creative than other children her age, and as a result may have trouble making friends. Whatever the cause, it meant she had more time to read, and that made her happy.

Her room had changed little since making the transition to middle school. The bed still sported the same well-loved bedspread, and her most treasured possessions set upon shelves above her desk. Although she didn't play with them any more, her toys were still where she could easily access them. She liked to move them, set up little tableus to keep her entertained. Currently, they were sitting at make-shift tables enjoying pint-sized cups of tea and coffee in thimbles.

It was supposed to be her party, and her mother had invited a few friends of hers to come celebrate so she wouldn't feel as lonely, but all it did was make her feel anxious. She didn't really know most of the people that well, and it felt awkward to sit downstairs and listen to them talk. A tentative knock drew her attention away from Harry Potter, and the door opened before she could tell the visitor to come in.

Andy hadn't changed much from the eighteen year old he'd been in the pictures her mother took of the two of them playing in the yard. His hair was neater, and he was even taller than he had been, no longer dressing in the rumpled t-shirts and jeans of an adolescent. Although they didn't see each other very often, Bonnie kept the picture of them together stashed in her desk. As she started to figure out that boys didn't have cooties, she was starting to wonder if she might have a crush on the older man.

At twenty-four, Andy was a college graduate and working as a composer for television commercial jingles. Her favorite Pop-Tart ad had been written by him, and she was very proud to know someone with such talent (as she viewed it). Usually, a girl her age wouldn't be smitten with a man thirteen years her senior, but there was something about his sheepish smiles and teasing voice that made her young heart race.

"It's puppy love," Jessie crowed to Woody as they perched upon the shelf after she left for school one day. "I've seen that picture she keeps and how excited she is every time he comes to visit. Mark my words, sherif; something's gonna happen between them, and I just hope it's good."

"What're you doing up here all by yourself?" Andy asked, leaning on the doorframe and surveying her with a fond smile. "If I recall, the reason I'm here is for you, birthday girl."

"Sorry," Bonnie replied as she slipped a bookmark in between the pages before swiveling her chair to face him. "It just feels a little...crowded down there. I know it's my party, but..."

"There are a lot of old people down there," Andy agreed, his heart warming both at the girl's giggle and the scene on the shelves above his desk. Although he'd told her to take care of his toys, he hadn't expected her to proudly display them as she grew old. "I hope I'm not too old to be grouped with them."

"Silly," Bonnie chastised, her interest piqued by a small, brightly wrapped package the man had in his hand. "Is that my present?"

"I shouldn't give it to you now. It's not time to open your presents." But how could he refuse those wide brown eyes and pouting lips? "Well, I guess it's okay as long as you don't tell your mother."

With a happy noise that wasn't quite a squeal, Bonnie took the package from him, wasting no time in ripping the pink and blue polkadot paper from the box. It was smaller than she had expected, and when she took the top off the box, it revealed a thin silver chain with a four leaf clover charm dangling from it.

"Middle school can be pretty rough, so I figured you could use some luck to help get you through it," Andy said, sounding unsure of himself. "You're getting too old for silly gifts, so I wanted to give you something more mature."

Bonnie was already fumbling with the clasp, brushing her fingers over the smooth green surface reverently as it settled against her throat. "It's so pretty," she whispered, grasping the charm gently as she spoke. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Andy replied, relief clear at her acceptance. He leaned down to hug her, and before they could part, she pressed an appreciative kiss to his cheek. It was a childish gesture, but the adoration in her eyes was that of an older girl. "What say you we go downstairs now and join everyone else? I'll try not to bore you to death."

"Maybe you can sing something for me," Bonnie laughed, taking his offered hand and allowing herself to be led from the room. "Write a jingle just for my birthday." As they walked down the hall and down the stairs, animal and doll alike clambered over each other to view the odd couple as they disappeared.

"He's laying it on thick," Mr. Potatohead snorted. "Jewelry for her eleventh birthday? He'll be wrapped around her little finger before she's a teenager!"

"Darling," his wife said with an exasperated sigh, "he already is."