It all Started with a Mouse (Screenwalks Fanfic)

Awakening

Rapunzel: "Too weak to handle myself out there, huh, Mother? Well...tell that to my frying pa..."

~ Tangled

He drags his trash can to the street everyday at exactly 6:00 A.M. Of course, Eleonora Disney wasn't supposed to notice these things. But she had watched Ferguson Walker slyly from behind the shades in her living room, ever since middle school. She noticed when he took his trash out and that he wasn't very good at skateboarding. She also noticed that today he was taking out his trash in nothing but his underwear. Who forgets to put on pants before they come outside?

Ferguson Walker does.

He's just standing there casually looking down. His eyes are focused on a little wicker basket filled with chocolate chip cookies, the ones that Eleonora put there this morning. Her family always liked to wish the neighbors a,

Happy Almost Fall!

Most neighbors reply with a thank you note or their own little gift basket. The Walkers, however, did not. She watched as he gingerly picked up the basket, opened the lid of his trash can, and chucked them in with all the unhygienic things. So..... that's what happened with the cookies. It had been a puzzle to Eleonora and her Mother ever since they had started to give Happy Almost Fall! baskets out. Well, she thought it was such a waste and she was going to walk right up to him and tell her what she had to say.  Storming out of her house in her loosely hanging t-shirt and sweatpants she walked up to Ferguson like she had no real problems. She still managed to keep her smile on as she faced the devil in boxers.

"Hey!"

He starts to drag his trash bins to the curb hastily, never looking back to hear where the noise had came from. Maybe he just hadn't heard her...

"Hey, Ferguson!"

He had one trash bin left to take to the curb. Eleonora thought that maybe he was still groggy from waking up so early. She decided to raise the level on her scream.

"Hey!"

He's ignoring me...

"Ferguson."

She reaches out and places a slender hand on his shoulder. He's startled for a moment and he lets go of his trash bin. It tips backwards and the lid slips off. The basket of cookies is vaguely visible underneath all the grime.

"Oh, crap. . . I'm sorry!"

Eleonora wasn't sorry though, she was sad. Those cookies were her favorite kind, what a waste.  Ferguson looked up at her quickly and said,

"I got it."

Even though Eleonora wasn't sorry she tipped her trash bin backwards, she was sorry that stuff spilled out. Trash was gross. She was somewhat kindhearted though and so she insisted,

"I can help."

His eyes flash to and from the garbage can and she knows he's feeling guilty. I guess she can't be mad at him forever. Maybe he just has and allergy to chocolate and had to throw them away instead of eating them and blowing up like a puffer-fish. He says sternly,

"No."

Then he shoved Eleonora. She didn't care that he pushed her, she only cared that he sounded like a rugged thief. He was the Flynn Rider in her eyes.  However, the inner actress inside wanted to play it off as dramatic so she smacked his arm. He didn't even seem to notice. He just lifted his black trash can up and clipped the lid back on tightly. Of course being as handsome as Ferguson came with some requirements... he wasn't supposed to hit a girl so he tried to play it off cool like,

"I, uh, don't like people touching my trashcans."

With masculine hands he aligned all four trash bins in a row on the curb.  Ferguson started towards his house but Eleonora didn't start towards hers. She looked up at the sky and thought about how wonderful it would be to be able to fly. To have wings and soar above the ground and all civilization,to be completly free. So, laying on the ground in Ferguson's driveway, she dreamed about being a bird. Only when Ferguson looked down at her curiously did she stop her daydream.

"Uh. . . what are you doing?"

She stopped, blew a piece of light brown hair out of her eyes, and sighed. She replied dazily,

"Nothing."

"Okay."  Ferguson walked up his porch.

"Hey, wait!"

Her hand clasps on to his shoulder just as his hand lays on his door knob.

"Jesus."

"Did you get the cookies?"

Even though she forgave him for his incident she wanted to see if he'd lie about it. Ferguson looks away from her face and blushes.

"Uh. . . what cookies?"

"They should be right-what the hell? Where are they?"

The child inside of her was hoping he told the truth...and then he did the unexpected. He looked right at her. He saw the braid she had slept in, the baggy pajamas she wore to bed, and he seemed to be looking at her facial features too. His eyes flicked from her forehead to her lips. She decided she needed to offer up an idea about where they went.

"Maybe someone stole them. . .?"

Of course the child inside her was crushed when he just shrugged. Now, it was time for the drama.

"Ugh, this sucks. That was a really good batch, too. Probably my best. And I just brought them up here like, twenty minutes ago. . . do you think it was a raccoon or something?"

His shoulders just moved up and down. Man, this kid was inexpressive. An idea struck Eleonora's brain.

"Oh, hey, I can make some more after school. I still have some dough. . . you and your mom or whoever can come over and my mom will make us all dinner!"

Ferguson just shakes his head though. All she does is nod and hum.

"I think she said she was making Sloppy Joes tonight."

Eleonora loved her mom's cooking. It was as though her mom was Martha Stewart. Whenever she sat down to dinner, she'd devour the food eagerly and then wonder what was for dessert. He tries to politely refuse with no avail,

"Uh. . . you don't need to-"

"It's fine." She waves her hand like it's no big deal. "We have a good movie selection, too."

He just purses his lips. Eleonora stops him mid- thought.

"Hey, aren't you cold?"

She bites each one of her nails as she tries not to laugh. The poor boy rubs his hands against his arms, now aware of the tempature. Between clenched teeth he states,

"I'm good."

"Oh, okay, Well maybe next time you should come outside in clothes even if you aren't cold. Because of the younger audience. Like the Truman's kids, They love spying on people. They might have seen your. . . yeah. So, see you later. I'll talk to you at schppl or whatever."

Eleonora turns and walks away, a grin on her face and a stiffled laugh in her belly. He was obviously cold and didn't realize that he had bigger problems then people touching his trash cans.