Work Text:
For the past 77 years, Road Runner had lived a very happy life. Some might think the cartoony routine of running around the desert being chased by someone who will never catch you, would turn boring after so many decades.
But none of them were being chased by a funny dumb genius called Wile E. Coyote.
Said coyote had been around for as long as he could remember, always with a large plate of free birdseed and some strange invention with the word ACME written on it.
Through bridges and canyons, sunshine and rain, railroads or plain desert, he was always there for him. No matter the boulder, explosion, piano that fell from the sky or fast-speeding train, Coyote always got back up and went back to the chase the next day (or hour, depending on how early it was).
That's why the day he didn't was so… disturbing.
Road Runner remembered the day before, when Wile E. had touched his beak with a claw for a second thanks to some rocket shoes and a slight, one-millionth-of-a-second pause the bird might have made to motivate his chase partner. Even though a missile had ultimately crashed into him, leaving a coyote-shaped crater, Road Runner was sure the feather he'd left behind would be enough to make the mammal join him early today.
Instead, he had spent the entire morning Beep Beeping, breaking the barrier of sound and sprinting around his cave waiting for the moment the Coyote would start their daily ritual.
He never went out.
Slightly crestfallen, Road Runner kept running, smile never leaving his beak. Surely, by lunchtime, some fresh birdseed would be waiting for him somewhere in the desert!
There was none.
As the day ended and his feathers got colder, an unusual heaviness fell onto him.
Which was very strange since there were no anvils or heavy pianos in sight. And they never crushed him anyway…
In his pondering, he ended up once again outside the Coyote’s cave.
“Beep Beep!”, he chirped into the night.
Nothing.
Was While E. asleep? Sad? Hurt?
“BEEP BEEP!”
Not a sound came from the cave. Nada. Not even the whirling of a drill or the clanking of a hammer.
He walked closer to the entrance, where some well-known signs could be seen even in the darkness.
[ NO ROADRUNNERS ALLOWED ]
[ UNLESS IT'S TO BE COOKED FOR DINNER]
[THEN YES, ROADRUNNERS WELCOME]
It had always seemed strange to him that the Coyote went to such lengths to court him but had never invited him into his cave. He'd even gotten really angry when Road Runner had sneaked in to wake him after he overslept one day.
He was just being nice by reminding him of their ritual! Thank you very much!
But he'd respected his pal’s wishes and never went inside again.
“Beep… beep?”
Until now.
After tapping on a rock with his claw for the third time, Road Runner sped through the cave. Over tall filing cabinets, around unfinished inventions, and under rocks that looked ready to crash down at any second… There was no sign of the Coyote. “Beep beep?” he asked again, only to be met with more silence.
He continued through the cave, quietly beeping as he looked for his Coyote. He could only hope Wile E. wasn't hurt or, worse… angry with him. Then he accidentally stepped on a TV remote.
The image on the device had frozen on a scruffy-looking human swallowed by an oversized suit (probably what Wile E. would look like as a human, heh) standing over a sign that read: “Call 1-800-Lawyer.”
Huh. Maybe he went to the city to find someone who could fix his TV? And he'll be back tomorrow?
The explanation didn't feel quite right. It sat strangely beneath his feathers, like a stuck pebble he couldn't outrun. Wile E. could have left him a note, at least. Partners were supposed to tell each other these things! Especially partners who spent every day together, exchanged feathers, and had touched beaks. Well, Wile E. had touched his beak, but Road Runner was fairly certain the intent still counted.
The only other clue he found was a ripped blueprint bearing the words “Step 1: Go to City.” So Road Runner left the cave, crest slightly drooped. Tomorrow, he decided, he would Beep much louder. His Coyote needed to understand that disappearing without saying goodbye was very rude.
A second day passed, then a third.
Still no news from the Coyote.
It wasn't until the fourth day that he came back.
The familiar rustle of Road Runner’s favorite birdseed reached him from across the desert, and his heart leapt so hard it seemed to tug the rest of him forward. He dashed toward his buddy in a delighted blur, all three lonely days falling away behind him.
Then he saw that Wile E. wasn't alone.
Four humans stood beside him. The scruffy one from the television held a piece of paper, which he carefully slipped beneath the pile of seeds. A young lady human hovered close to Wile E., looking hopeful and terrified at the same time.
“Beep Beep!” Road Runner chirped as brightly as he could.
Wile E. didn't look happy to see him. He rolled his eyes, crossed his arms, and exchanged an annoyed glance with the lady human.
The sight hurt more than any falling anvil could have.
Wile E. knew Road Runner never stopped for anyone, least of all humans, so he beeped louder and snatched the paper while finishing the seeds on the run. Perhaps this was another game. Perhaps if he played his part properly, his Coyote would smile and start chasing him again.
Looking back, he saw the scruffy human say something. Wile E. gestured after him with one paw as if to say, “See? I told you so”.
Road Runner looked down. He barely had time to catch one word on the paper.
Lawsuit.
His feet nearly forgot how to run.
He pecked a hurried beep beep onto the page and shoved it back into the human’s hand, speeding away before anyone could see his watering eyes. The desert blurred around him, but for once the speed didn't feel like freedom. It felt like an avalanche running up to crush him.
Was Wile E. suing him? Had he mistaken all their fun for cruelty? Did he think every teasing beep beep, every tongue stuck out over his blue shoulder, and every impossible escape had been meant to humiliate him? Road Runner had only wanted to keep the game going. He had slowed down for him. Left feathers for him. Run close enough to feel the snap of his teeth. He had thought Wile E. understood.
Or was it some sort of cartoony divorce law? A way to end their chase officially so Wile E. could choose another animal… one who stopped when caught, one who didn't tease, one who deserved all those elaborate inventions more than Road Runner did?
The thought of someone else eating his birdseed and hearing his Coyote’s frustrated growls made jealousy burn hot in his chest. Worse was the thought that Wile E. might be happier with them.
Squeaking softly, Road Runner returned to his nest alone. He curled his long legs beneath himself and tucked his beak under one wing, but sleep wouldn't come. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Wile E. exchanging that look with the lady human. He wondered if the Coyote had hated him for years while Road Runner foolishly believed they were partners.
For the next days, he still ran because running was what Road Runners did. But his feet dragged. His beep beeps came out small and cracked, offered to an empty desert that never answered. Without Wile E. behind him, there was no clever trap to dodge, no triumphant glance over his shoulder, no one worth challenging.
Running didn't sound so fun anymore.
On the fifteenth awful day, a newspaper blew low across the road near the Coyote’s cave. No matter how hard Road Runner tried to avoid the place, his feet always seemed to carry him back there.
He was about to turn around when he recognized Wile E.’s photograph beside another showing Foghorn Leghorn. The headline read: “COYOTE SUES ACME OVER ENTIRE CARTOON PRODUCT CATALOGUE, FAILS SPECTACULARLY.”
Road Runner stopped so abruptly that a little cloud of dust continued without him.
He read the headline once. Then twice. Then a third time, tracing the words with the tip of his beak.
Wile E. was suing ACME.
Not him.
Relief rushed through Road Runner so fiercely that his crest sprang upright. A joyous “BEEP BEEP!” burst from him, loud enough to echo between the mountains.
He bounced in a delighted circle, laughing at how ridiculous he had been.
Of course Wile E. was angry at ACME, not at him.
That made so much more sense! After all, his Coyote knew the teasing was part of the fun. He knew Road Runner would never truly hurt him. Every taunt was an invitation to keep chasing, a promise that tomorrow they would do it all again.
And the paper the scruffy lawyer had given him must have been a court summons. They needed Road Runner as a witness! Perhaps he was important to the case. Perhaps Wile E. had spent all that time telling the humans about him, not because he wanted a different chase partner, but because no one knew the ACME products' malfunctions better than the bird who had watched them fail.
Unfortunately, Road Runner hadn't finished reading the paper, so he didn't know where the court was or when he was supposed to appear. For one worried moment, his feathers drooped.
Then he brightened. The lawyers knew where to find him, and Wile E. did too. They would come back when it was time. Perhaps all four humans would arrive in that dirty car, with his Coyote sitting impatiently beside them. They would bring birdseed to make sure he stopped, explain everything properly, and then take him to court with them.
The idea filled him with such certainty that he hurried home to prepare. He polished his beak, smoothed his crest, and practiced his most serious courtroom “Beep Beep” in front of a cactus. Then he kept running the same route the humans had come from, smiling toward the horizon.
Any day now, his Coyote would come to pick him up.
Two weeks passed.
The car never came.
Road Runner still watched every road that cut through the desert. Every groaning engine made his head spring upright; every cloud of dust sent him racing toward the horizon with a hopeful beep. But each time it was only a delivery truck, a family of tourists, or some lost human who screamed when a blue blur shot past their windshield.
Then, one morning, the sky began to roar.
A helicopter swept over and dropped a mountain of birdseed directly onto the road. Not a pile. Not a plate. A mountain! Golden, fragrant, and tall enough to cast its own shadow.
“Beep Beep!”
Road Runner’s mouth watered. Perhaps Wile E. had arranged it as an apology for taking so long. It was certainly elaborate enough to be one of his traps, although Road Runner couldn't see the customary ACME label anywhere.
Military vehicles thundered into the valley behind the helicopter. Humans in dark uniforms jumped out and surrounded the birdseed with nets, cages, ropes, and several weapons that looked much less funny than Wile E.’s inventions.
Road Runner slowed just enough to inspect the ground. Beneath the lowest layer of seeds, something gleamed.
Glue.
Very sticky glue.
His smile flattened.
These weren't Wile E.’s humans. These were bad humans, and they were trying to catch him without even understanding the rules.
Road Runner darted away an instant before anyone blinked. The soldiers shouted and scrambled after him. He led them through the desert, around a cliff, beneath the helicopter, between the armored cars, and straight through their carefully stacked explosives. By the time the humans realized where they were standing, Road Runner was already safely on a distant ridge.
He raised one wing in farewell.
“Beep Beep!”
The explosion sent a black cloud blooming into the sky. When the smoke cleared, the humans were sitting in a crater with their faces covered in soot, blinking at one another. Road Runner nodded with satisfaction. Wile E. would have done it better.
And the thought of his Coyote brought the worry back.
If no one was coming for him, Road Runner would go to Albuquerque himself. He didn't know exactly where the courthouse was, but cities had roads, and roads were his specialty.
He had just started east when he passed a truck parked beside a gas station. Its radio crackled through an open window.
“—the judge has dismissed Wile E. Coyote’s lawsuit against the ACME Corporation. Representatives for ACME praised the decision—”
Road Runner skidded to a halt.
Dismissed.
His feathers sank. After everything Wile E. had endured… the rockets, the dynamite, the defective springs, the anvils that never landed where they were supposed to, the humans had simply decided none of it mattered.
Poor Wile E.
Road Runner wished he had made it to court. He would have told them. He would have shown them every scar hidden beneath the Coyote’s fur and described every explosion he had witnessed. Well, he would have beeped it, but surely Mr. Scruffy Lawyer could have translated.
Still, one comforting thought remained: the case was over. His partner was coming home.
Road Runner hurried back to the desert and waited beside the road.
One day passed.
Then two.
Wile E. didn't return.
On the second afternoon, another newspaper tumbled across the sand and wrapped itself around Road Runner’s legs. He shook it loose and froze when he saw Wile E.’s face on the front page.
“CONGRESS REOPENS ACME CASE: COYOTE HEARING SET FOR TOMORROW IN WASHINGTON, D.C.”
Tomorrow?
Washington, D.C.?
Road Runner had never crossed an entire country before. He looked east, lowered his body, dug his claws into the earth, and smiled.
“Beep Beep.”
The desert exploded behind him.
He crossed New Mexico before the newspaper hit the ground, Texas before sunset, and several states too quickly to read their welcome signs. Highways curled beneath his feet. Mountains became smudges. Rivers flashed silver and vanished behind him. He ran through the night, stopping only once when a confused police officer tried to give him a speeding ticket.
By morning, a white dome rose ahead.
Road Runner shot through the Capitol doors, past startled guards, around velvet ropes, and down a corridor filled with humans shouting into microphones. He followed the familiar sound of Foghorn Leghorn’s booming voice until he reached a chamber packed with reporters, lawyers, officials and, at the far end, his Coyote.
Wile E. looked exhausted.
Road Runner’s heart squeezed beneath his feathers. His partner sat beside his human lawyers, shoulders bowed, while wires disappeared beneath the table and wound toward some new, wonderfully complicated machine hidden under (and over?) the witnesses’ platform.
Even here, Wile E. had built a trap for him.
Road Runner smiled at the cables. None of the humans seemed to have noticed them.
Foghorn Leghorn leaned toward a microphone, his voice filling the chamber.
“I say, I say, this whole miserable business is the Coyote’s own fault! Chasin’ something that never wanted him, buyin’ contraptions no sensible creature would touch! Why, there ain't a soul in the whole world who cares what happens to that mangy varmint!”
Laughter scattered through the room. Foghorn’s lawyer smirked and added something about Wile E. being friendless, unwanted, and too foolish to know when to quit.
Road Runner stopped smiling.
His crest rose like a flame.
No one cared about Wile E. Coyote?
No one?
“BEEP BEEP!”
Every head turned as Road Runner streaked down the aisle. Papers spiraled into the air behind him. He leapt over the railing and landed on the witness platform directly in front of Wile E.
For one terrible second, the Coyote only stared.
Road Runner gave him his widest, most reassuring smile. I came. Of course I came.
Wile E.’s ears lifted.
Mr. Scruffy Lawyer hurried forward, straightening his oversized suit and asking the officials to recognize the witness. After several confused arguments about whether a Road Runner could take an oath, the human began with simple yes-or-no questions.
Was he a bird?
“Beep beep”
Was he easy to catch?
“Beep!”
Had he seen Wile E. use ACME products?
“Beep! Beep”
Had those products always malfunctioned?
Road Runner laughed so hard that his answer came out as six rapid beeps. He pointed toward the concealed cables beneath Wile E.’s table, then mimed an explosion with his wings. Wile E. covered his face with one paw. Several members of Congress chuckled.
Then Scruffy’s expression softened.
“Have you been witness to Mr. Coyote’s pain and suffering?”
Road Runner’s smile faded.
He looked at Wile E.
In his mind, the funny explosions vanished. He saw the coyote-shaped craters, the flattened body beneath an anvil, the burns hidden under singed fur. He remembered how Wile E. always dragged himself upright afterward, no matter how much it hurt, because tomorrow there would be another chase.
Road Runner’s head lowered.
“Beep, beep,” he nodded sadly.
The lawyer looked as sad as Road Runner felt. Beside him, the tiny lady human blinked hard and pressed her lips together. Almost everyone in the room stopped smiling.
“Yeah… me too…” he murmured softly, ”And despite everything,” the human asked, “do you consider Wile E. Coyote your friend?”
Road Runner looked straight into his partner’s eyes.
“BEEP BEEP!”
The words rang through the chamber. Yes. Obviously yes. More than that, but human courts apparently required short answers.
Wile E.’s mouth parted. His ears trembled.
Mr. Scruffy Lawyer once again cleared his throat. “Is there anything else you'd like to add, Mr. Runner?”
At last.
The question that had chased Road Runner for weeks rose inside him. It had followed him through the empty desert, kept him awake in his nest, and carried him all the way across the country.
He faced Wile E. completely.
“Beep… beep beep beeep?”
Are you coming back?
Wile E.’s eyes filled with tears.
The Coyote glanced at all the humans watching him, then back at Road Runner. Very slowly, almost too slightly for anyone else to notice, he nodded.
Just for him.
Joy burst through Road Runner from beak to tail.
“BEEP BEEP!”
I'll be waiting for you.
Then he launched himself from the platform and raced out of the chamber, leaving the humans to their laws and his Coyote to his elaborate, secret trap. There was no need to worry anymore. Wile E. had promised.
Two days later, Scruffy’s (apparently called Kevin) dirty car rattled down the desert road. The lawyer was driving. The tiny lady human sat beside him, and in the back, crowded between boxes, blueprints, and the scorched remains of something mechanical, sat Wile E. Coyote.
Road Runner was already waiting.
He stood in the middle of the road holding a large cardboard sign.
[ YOU’RE BACK! ]
The car stopped. Wile E. climbed out, set down his suitcase, and looked at him.
[ YES ] his own sign read, “I promised”, was what it meant.
Road Runner dropped the first sign and lifted another.
[ MISSED YOU ]
“Beep Beep,” he said, meaning exactly the same thing.
Before Wile E. could answer, Road Runner darted forward and pressed his beak against the mammal's snout. Then he gave the end of Wile E.'s nose one small, affectionate lick. A kiss, just to show him how much he'd missed him.
The Coyote went perfectly still. His eyes widened. His ears shot upright, and a deep red blush spread beneath the fur of his face.
Road Runner giggled.
Then he ran.
Behind him came a familiar growl, the rustle of paws against the pavement and something that sounded like laughter.
Road Runner glanced over his shoulder. Wile E. was chasing him again.
His smile stretched from one side of his beak to the other.
“BEEP BEEP!”
At last, everything was back to normal.