Chapter Text
Wile E. Coyote's days become a lot more tedious with each sunrise.
It's not exactly something too in-his-face, or something that actually becomes a detriment to his carefully structured routine or even a set back into his hunting plans. More so of an annoyance, of a something that just rubs him the wrong way for a few seconds before he can shrug it off, like the buzzing of an insect on his ears or the desert heat becoming one or two degrees hotter than the usual without warning.
The bunny doesn't leave the desert right away, not even after saying its more of a detour than his actual destination. The Roadrunner takes their chases a bit further away into the desert than what he's comfortable with.
Small, minuscule things. Things Wile shouldn't bother with, so he simply doesn't. He shrugs off the bunny's presence despite a few feeble attempts to trap him if the chance arises. He chases after The Roadrunner way past the mesa until he's hit the limit and returns to his cave for another plan before he can truly become exhausted.
And so his routine continues, his days drag into nights.
Bugs Bunny has, apparently, accommodated himself by the oasis.
Wile gets it, really. The oasis is nice in the way the rest of the desert isn't. Clean water, palm trees giving shade, wildflowers growing between tufts of grass and rock crevices. He gets the appeal.
It's not as nice as his own cave though, cool at all times, big enough to hold all his plans and machinery and commodities.
He meets the bunny by pure chance, this time, burrow right under a tree and Bugs Bunny taking shade while sipping water in a margarita glass, a baby carrot acting as a lime.
"Oh, hey Wile E. Nice to see you here."
"I live here," comes the sign, "what are YOU doing here?"
"Eh, enjoying my detour. It's nice to get away from the city every now and then, y'know?"
He doesn't know city life, actually, but Wile can agree that the desert is rather nice. Quiet with warm days and fresh nights. It still doesn't explains the bunny's presence.
He's not going to ask again.
Wile pulls an empty canteen from behind him, filling it with clear water, taking a swig, and filling it again. His ears perk up as he hears the skittering of a lizard coming nearby, enticed by the water just as much as him.
Without thinking, he grabs the small reptile with his hands, looks at it for a few seconds and throws it in his open maw. He chews once, twice, crunching bones and all and swallows.
"Nice snack?"
Thankfully, Wile doesn't chokes on what is considered his breakfast, and turns to look at Bugs with an inquisitive look of his own. He'd think the toon would be grossed out on account of being a herbivore, but the bunny merely looks on with a relaxed stance.
"Do you mind?" Wile signs, huffing.
"Not really," Bugs shrugs, "Gettin' grossed out at a carnivore eating' meat is like getting angry because the sun rises."
Huh. Oddly sound for someone like him. Then again Bugs Bunny always has this air of…nonchalance, around him. At least from how Wile knows him.
Wile rolls his eyes and swipes at his mouth, turning to leave. Bugs chooses that time to get up from his comfortable shade.
"Hold on, Doc," He calls, making Wile turn in slight exasperation, "You missed a spot."
What?
The bunny, without fear of him or concern for his own life, closes in on the coyote and slowly, very gently, picks at something at the corner of his mouth. A teeny, tiny claw is held between the bunny's fingers. So small it's nearly nothing against the glove, not even enough to count as a scrap by Wile's standards.
"There we go," Bugs finishes, discarding the claw with a careless throw over his shoulders. If he's bothered by it, he doesn't show it. Instead, he pulls a handkerchief from an apparent pocket in his fur and dabs at Wile's snout. "Messy eater much?"
Wile points at him as if to say "I'll show you messy eating" before turning away once more. He's not bothering with the toon, not again. He's got a schedule to stick to and has no time to follow after strange bunnies littering all over the desert.
His ears flick again, he can hear the bunny laughing softly for some reason.
His usual chase with The Roadrunner goes a little better this time. It goes…well, he almost had him!
He almost touched him!
Claws so close to the plumage of his tail by running alone. Sand becoming dust as they went, the landscape blurring to nothing just to focus on the elusive toon just at an arm's reach.
He doesn't accounts for outside forces, this time, to mess it all up.
Trucks come by this time, one after another with the ACME logo. The Roadrunner easily slips past them with speed alone, too fast for the machinery to even graze his feathers. Wile is less lucky, but he isn't exactly unlucky this time. He flattens himself on the road, skidding along as the trucks go harmlessly over him rather than running over his legs or tail or whole body. Once the last truck goes over, horn blasting away in the distance, Wile gets up as fast as he can…
…And something drapes over him.
It's almost like web, somehow. Ropes with glue for capture, like something he'd use for one of his traps if needed.
The truck honks again, Wile can see the back of it slightly open, boxes and trinkets falling from it with the driver either unaware or not caring for the missing cargo.
And Wile accepts defeat for today.
The rope is heavy, his legs tremble like jello and his heart nearly beats out of his ribcage from the effort and adrenaline of the whole situation. Fine, there will be no roadrunner lunch, today at least. Maybe dinner. Maybe tomorrows breakfast.
Soft clicking noises come near, claws on asphalt, one after another, and The Roadrunner appears over him with a slight smile on his beak.
"Beep beep!" He chirps, examining the ropes with curiosity alongside the dirt marks left in the road by the trucks. He circles the trap once and twice before pecking at the rope in an almost playful manner.
Wile growls in annoyance, impatient and angry. He was so close to capture the bird! So close!
The Roadrunner continues it's curious peeking, the ropes, the asphalt by Wile's head, cocking his head to view things in a different angle as if trying to understand something.
"Beep beep?"
And strangely, The Roadrunner comes closer.
And closer yet.
Wile blinks in confusion, not understanding why the bird isn't running off to do whatever he did once the chase was over. The Roadrunner's beak starts digging through his fur, making Wile flinch for a moment before realizing he wasn't being pecked at, feeling almost like…
…Is the bird actually trying to groom his fur?
The beak smooths out hair from glue, a little bit. Picks at a bug crawling on his brow and swallows it, digs through a tuff of fur and chirps again something that could be taken as a question.
Unable to pull a sign, and not feeling like talking, Wile raises an eyebrow as if to ask; "What?"
The Roadrunner doesn't answer him, but picks at a tuff of fur much too close to the coyote's mouth, a little pinch that barely hurts. The bird looks almost confused for a moment, eyes wide and ever present smile growing a little smaller.
Only because he's a toon does Wile understand the bird's expression. He IS confused over something.
"Beep?" The Roadrunner asks, pecking a Wile's ears to take away a strip of glue threatening to harden over sensitive fluff.
"I don't understand," Wile wants to signs, but shrugs instead. There is no way to properly communicate right now.
The Roadrunner smiles at him, like always. Licks his nose in a mocking gesture and turns to leave. The feather left behind this time is a deep, deep blue coming from his tail.
Wile sighs, taking the glue off his fur is going to be an experience he thought he was over with.
Wile finds himself in the oasis again, despite his best efforts.
Look, he needs water. He wants the glue off before it can harden and stick any further, and his cave is too far away to make it on time. Hence, he's stuck to the oasis.
It's nice, don't get him wrong. He likes the place! He just…breathes a sigh of relief once he realizes there's no meddling bunny to watch out for.
Taking a bucker from somewhere, filling it to the brim, Wile begins cleaning his fur a bit ways off. ACME glue is both a complete joke when needing it to work and a nightmare to get off things that didn't need it in the first place. There's glue under his claws, on the soft part of his ears, on his chest fur, on his tail!
Grumbling to himself, he scrubs. Ears are lefts sensitive but clean, his fur comes away in clumps, he snips some parts with his own claws once he realizes there's no way for him to comb it off or tug it, his tail sticks out like wood, already clumped in a mess.
Wile sighs, feeling the start of a headache already. The soft thumping behind his eyes, the pressure right in the middle of his brow and warm weight on his head…
Frowning, Wile notices it's not only his headache making itself known.
"Hey neighbor," Bugs greets, munching on a carrot, elbow propped on top of Wile's head. "why the long face?"
The coyote sighs, and counts down mentally. 3…2…
And Bugs tugs right on time.
And again.
And one more time.
Realizing his arm is stuck to the coyote's head, Bugs raises an eyebrow at their current predicament, not too alarmed despite it.
"Uhh," He starts, "can I ask why the glue?"
"I don't want to talk about it," Comes Wile's sign.
"Huh," Bugs looks over his arm, grabbing the carrot with his teeth and using his free arm to dip his own hand into the water bucket and scrub.
Wile startles for a moment, and grumbles, letting the bunny unstick himself from his head. He's at least not tugging his fur out of his scalp in order to get free, so Wile will count it as a small win in his favor despite the annoyance of it all.
Bugs frees himself, finally! But the bunny's fingers keep carding through his fur as if to wash off more of the discarded trap away. For a moment, it's almost nice.
And then Wile notices a tug on his tail.
He takes his tail almost in reflex, glaring at the daring bunny in reproach. Bugs looks at him innocently, carrot gone and hands in the air as if pleading innocence.
"What? I know I don't like glue on MY tail."
Wile squints, pulls a sign with his free arm, "I can do it myself,"
The coyote turns around, keen on ignoring the other for a while, huffing an annoyed breath and…
…A water bucket is poured right on top of his head.
Soaked down to the bone, Wile whirls around all fangs and claws at the ready. Bugs looks appropriately smug for some reason, throwing the bucket to the side without a word, and runs.
And Wile, on reflex, chases.
Through the oasis, the mesa, the dunes. It's not quite as tiring as chasing The Roadrunner, Bugs isn't as fast. But he is clever and uses tricks against Wile in a way his usual prey doesn't. Skids at a curve to grab onto a pole and run the other direction, kicks up sand behind, goes between crevices too small for Wile to follow directly.
Then it's the oasis again, and Bugs waves at him as he jumps down the safety of his burrow.
"Hope it helped, Wile E!" He sing-songs, and dives headfirst into the safety of his temporary home like an Olympic swimmer.
Wile growls, stomps his feet on the sand, and leaves. His fur is somehow clean, the chase made it dry fast, and what was once covered in glue is now soft and fluffy to the point it's nearly ridiculous on him.
Smoothing down his fur, Wile returns to his cave. Maybe he'll throw some explosives down the burrow, or dig an aqueduct from the oasis to the burrow's entrance to flood it out.
His next chase with The Roadrunner goes strange.
Strange in the way it, well, stops too soon.
They're in the middle of the desert this time rather then the usual starting and stopping points, somewhere by the railroads. The jet-pack Wile ordered came on time and exploded into colorful fireworks much too soon into the never-ending hunt, leaving the Coyote singed and dizzy and hungry, panting on the sandy dunes and warm rocks trying to recover is breath.
"Am I getting out of shape?" Wile wonders to himself, refusing to acknowledge the futility of the products he ordered. "I need a new strategy, I'm…"
Hungry.
He's still hungry, he's never not hungry.
The Roadrunner, per usual, returns to check on him and gloat. He circles Wile, and the coyote is too tired to really give their usual chase more of a chance for the day, letting the bird do whatever mocking peck or lick it wanted to do before turning tail and run to another point of the desert until tomorrow.
The Roadrunner stares at him, and pulls out a sign of his own, "Not getting up?"
Wile rolls his eyes, and pulls a sign, "Done for today,"
The Roadrunner beeps at this and pecks him right between the eyes. It's not…painful, somehow. It's just a gentle press of his beak, a slight rub that's much too soft to actually leave a mark. If Wile didn't know better, he'd think the bird is comforting him.
Hah! As if!
The peck comes back to his head, this time. The sensitive fur of his forehead and ears, tugging slightly and…
And another tug, less gentle but still soft.
In The Roadrunner's beak, there's a tuff of grey fur, soft and clumped together like cotton.
Wile recognizes it, and thinks nothing of it. Must be some of the bunny's fur from when he stuck his arm to his head. Maybe it got clumped by his own and didn't get washed off in that off-hand chase.
The Roadrunner stares a little.
And a little more.
And spits the clump of fluff to the side.
For some reason, Wile stares in surprise. What? The bird's reaction is new in a sense, he's always tugged at fur and left it aside, but had done so gently. Either letting it fall from his beak or carefully putting it aside, not outright spitting it like…like… a wild animal!
Talons click on rock, softly and rhythmically, and in a blink the toon is speeding away.
In another blink, he's back. From his beak hangs a small…scorpion?
Not exactly small, fattened and very much dead. He dangles it by the tail, either a taunt of a threat, and Wile can't quite help the surprised expression from his face, not understanding.
The Roadrunner, of course, takes the chance, and lets the scorpion fall onto Wile's open maw. By instinct alone the coyote begins to chews, claws and stinger grounded to nothing in seconds, and swallows.
What?
Apparently content by this, The Roadrunner beeps happily, clicking his claws again and speeding off for good.
Wile stares at the sky, and stares again. The sky goes from clear blue to soft yellows and oranges and pinks and only then does he gets up. His fur is a little burnt, a little coarse, and his stomach rumbles again but he can't mind the hunger too much.
Weird day, that's all. It's only a weird day.