Work Text:
Not many people know that the life of a road runner can very easily be a solitary one. A lonely one. Especially when you're the only one of your species in the area. If there were other road runners, that would be great, but out here in New Mexico, there's only one for miles. And that, is a very lonely position to be in.
Because nothing else is as fast and nothing can ever keep up when you're the fastest thing alive, it makes it hard to keep company. Everyone's always left in the dust, too slow to even think about coexisting. That's just how it is, especially out here in the middle of nowhere.
But for the Road Runner, he considers himself to be one of the lucky ones. He's always had one consistent companion keeping him from being lonely in the desert. And that has been the Coyote.
The ever reliable, always there every day with a new game and a thoughtful snack, Coyote.
He's fun, innovative. The game is always new and different and that makes the chase all that more exciting. The Coyote never wins, but that never stops him from trying every single time. The next attempt is never the same as the one before it and the Road Runner is always excited to see what the Coyote has come up with every morning.
The song and dance continues almost daily as the two streak across the desert in between cliffs and cacti. The Road Runner gets such a thrill out of these games—they're the highlight of his day. It's not hard to grow attached to his canine friend, not with how endearingly persistent he is. Sometimes he thinks that maybe he serves the same purpose for the Coyote as he does for him. That maybe, he keeps the Coyote company like he keeps the Road Runner company. They're not lonely because they have each other. For that, the Road Runner thinks that he'll always have a soft spot in his heart for the Coyote.
And, he's the only one who's ever been able to keep up. Not by much, though. No, the Road Runner still outpaces him easily but the Coyote gets so close. Closer than anyone else has ever gotten for sure, and that is nothing to scoff at. It makes him very special.
Occasionally, his claws will brush the Road Runner's feathers and that'll only raise the stakes more and more, sending a thrill up the Road Runner's spine. The Coyote always gets close, but he never actually succeeds.
Though the Road Runner is proud of his winning streak, he loves to see the Coyote persevere. Maybe one day he'll win for a change, but the Road Runner won't make it easy for him. That's the fun part, after all. The chase.
But then after the game is over, after the Coyote pulls himself up from the ground and brushes the dust off of him, after he trudges up to his cave for the day, the Road Runner is left alone again. The game unfortunately doesn't last forever, but he's reassured by the fact that it will start anew tomorrow. It's routine, their thing, and it has been for years.
It's all very fun and the Road Runner wouldn't change a thing about it. That is until one day, when it suddenly stops.
The Road Runner zooms around the desert as usual, waiting to hear or see whatever contraption the Coyote has cooked up for the day, but it never comes. He doesn't see his friend anywhere, doesn't see the familiar tools he uses either.
It's like he vanished. Or left.
It's a scary thought, that the Road Runner's only friend has suddenly left him without saying goodbye. But he refuses to believe it and goes looking for him. He does a couple of laps around the desert, only to find no trace of the Coyote. No warning, no note. The Road Runner calls out in questioning beeps from the tops of cliffs and behind boulders, but there is never an answer. He even dares to brave the Coyote's cave up on the mountain, only to find nothing.
The Coyote is actually gone. Just like that.
The Road Runner never gives up hope. He still runs around like usual, eyes and ears on extra high alert just in case his friend comes back. The desert is as quiet and still as the day the Coyote disappeared, but the Road Runner keeps looking.
It's all so boring now, and incredibly lonely. He misses the games, the explosions. He misses the birdseed and his friend who always supplied him with it. He misses having someone to run with, hearing someone else's footsteps keeping time with his.
All the Road Runner can do is run and long for what he once had.
It's not until one day much later that the Road Runner gets to see the Coyote again. Only, he's not alone, as he has some humans in tow. They're not very intelligent, using one of the Coyote's old tricks that the Road Runner can easily see right through.
They clearly want something from him, but all he wants is the Coyote.
It seems the Coyote's moved on to other friends, effectively replacing him. It's not exactly pleasant, and perhaps the Road Runner is being a little petty when he zooms by at top speed, not even stopping to have some of the birdseed they left for him. It'll take more than a mediocre human trap to make him stop. The Coyote couldn't even be bothered to set one of his own. It hurts, strangely enough.
Is the Road Runner not worth a carefully thought out trap anymore? He runs all the way back to his nest sadly, feeling a sense of rejection.
The humans return every few days for a couple weeks. Sometimes the Coyote is with them, other times he's not. Every time though, he's too focused on other things, and those things are never the Road Runner.
The little group takes pictures, collects stray remnants of all the games played and carts them away. It's like they're taking the memories away, but all the Road Runner can do is watch from afar. He's confused, yet also curious. He doesn't know what they're planning—it's too different from one of the Coyote's usual schemes.
He just wishes he'd come back so they can do what they've always done.
The Road Runner is quite popular these days it seems, especially with humans for some reason. He doesn't really know why and no one's told him so far. They just throw paper at him or try to lure him with birdseed.
Today's birdseed had admittedly managed to get him at first. It's not every day one sees a literal mountain of it, after all. But it's also a very obvious trick after the initial allure wears off.
It's just another silly human trap, much like the paper from the Coyote's little group. The glue is a nice touch, though. That feels more like something the Coyote would do. Though, the Coyote might have disguised it a bit better instead of just dumping it around the area.
Unfortunately, glue has never worked for the Coyote and it surely won't work for the humans now. Especially not with such a simple and obvious trap. The Coyote would never; he at least had some subtlety.
It's almost funny how everyone tries and yet never compares to the ingenuity of the Road Runner's friend. Not the Coyote's new friends and most certainly not these heavily armored humans. It would be almost flattering that they felt the need to come this prepared to catch him, but ultimately, the trap is shoddy, basic.
The Road Runner is not impressed.
With a quick kick of his feet, the Road Runner is free and out of the glue, back to zooming around the crowd of humans and to freedom. He leaves behind shrieks and yells in his wake, almost giggling to himself as he runs around his domain.
He remains uncaught, as always.
It's another beautiful day in the desert, even if the Road Runner feels like there's something important going on. Whatever it is, it seems so far away out here as he runs under the big, blue sky and lets the world become a blur around him.
All he does is run these days, more so than usual. He doesn't want to think about the Coyote—it hurts too much. So he runs, feet slapping against the familiar road beneath him faster than sound. He runs from the pain and the thoughts that make him sad.
Something on the road makes him pause, though, effectively halting his sprint. It's a newspaper, but the Coyote is on the front page. The Road Runner peers closely at the headline. The Coyote is going to Congress and suing the company who made all those pesky gadgets used in their games.
So the Coyote hadn't just up and left him. No, he was trying to get even for all the suffering he had been through all these years.
At first, the Road Runner had just assumed that the Coyote was made of harder stuff than he, able to tank a hit like no other. But that was quickly shown not to be the case. The Coyote would suffer and hurt because of the backfiring of those gadgets. The Road Runner had also once thought the explosions to be intentional, but that was quickly disproven as well.
Good for him, finally getting justice and proper payback for all those bruises and injuries. It makes the Road Runner happy to know the Coyote may get what he deserves and that he didn't, in fact, abandon him.
Perhaps this is what those humans and the Coyote were trying to show him that first day they came. Perhaps… the Coyote needs his help. Cases like this needed witnesses, and he was just about the best witness there could ever be. The Road Runner had seen everything, after all. He could help.
He takes another look at the paper. Washington isn't far from here. It's only a quick jog, light work for someone like him.
The Road Runner turns and shoots off into the distance, determined to help in any way he can.
The courtroom is probably imposing and important, filled to the brim with people in suits, but the Road Runner has no care for anything other than the Coyote sitting to his right. He looks absolutely shocked at seeing him, but the Road Runner is just happy to be here. Of course he came. He's here to support the Coyote when it matters most.
At the witness stand, the Road Runner almost smiles at the sight of the wired contraption underneath the microphone. He could swoon—it's been too long since the Coyote has left a trap for him. It's so complex, meticulously planned. It has clear effort put into it. It's nothing like those measly human traps.
It feels like old times. No matter how far they are from home, he's happy things are still the same between them.
Still, he trusts that the Coyote won't trigger it until the Road Runner has said his piece. It's for the good of the trial and for the good of the Coyote. Even his insatiable friend can be patient for this.
The Road Runner can only answer in beeps, so he's limited to yes or no questions. The human in the disheveled suit asking them is the same one the Road Runner saw with the Coyote that day in the desert. Back then, the Road Runner had been petty, but now he realizes that the man is helping the Coyote, so he can't be that bad. Even if his questions are a tad odd.
"Would you consider Mr. Coyote a friend?"
What a silly question. Of course they're friends. Best friends, even. He can't imagine a life without the Coyote, doesn't ever want to. These past weeks have been torture and oh so lonely. If he has to keep living like this, he doesn't know what he'll do. What fun is running if there's nobody to chase you?
It's an automatic two beeps for yes.
He asks him a couple more questions about the gadgets, then moves on to his last one.
"Did you have anything additional you wanted to say?" The man asks.
Finally, the Road Runner gets to speak solely to the Coyote. Not to the humans, not to the courtroom. Only the Coyote, because he's all that matters.
He lets out a series of beeps as an answer. A human woman helps him, translating his message to his dear friend.
Her voice wavers slightly as she reads it aloud, like she comprehends its severity and yet is also surprised. "Are you coming back?"
Both the crowd and the Road Runner look to the Coyote, but he's only looking at him. The Coyote doesn't say anything, and he doesn't need to. His eyes say everything, welling up with tears and emotion.
The Road Runner gives him a smile. His job here is done and his message has come across just as he wanted it to. He hopes it's been enough.
He turns and runs out of the room, not caring about the gust he leaves in his wake.
Though the Coyote doesn't win the case, it still opens the doors for more people to come forward and speak out against ACME. The Road Runner sees more and more cartoons visiting the firm when he races past, having changed his normal route in order to properly check in.
Then, when the dust settles and the company gets its just desserts, it's finally time for the Coyote to come home.
He doesn't come alone, bringing his humans along with him, but that's fine. Even if the Coyote has other friends, the Road Runner knows they don't compare to what he has with the Coyote. It's a unique, special thing. Two intertwined forces. Can't have one without the other.
Humans can go their entire lives without reaching something like that.
The Road Runner wastes no time zooming up to the Coyote, stopping a few feet in front of him. He barely spares the humans behind him a glance, too focused on his friend who's come back to him. The Coyote looks well, eyes bright and still riding the high off his win, it seems. While he didn't win in the courtroom, he managed to win in a different way.
Perhaps in the way that mattered the most.
The Road Runner can't contain himself, letting out a "beep beep!" and running excited circles around the Coyote. The circles dizzy the canine, leaving him wobbly and with stars around his head that he quickly shakes away. When he does, the Road Runner can see a smile on his face.
He holds out a sign. 'You came back,' it says.
The Coyote gives him an uncharacteristically soft look and holds up a sign of his own. 'Yes.'
'Wasn't the same without you,' the Road Runner's flipped sign reads.
The Coyote looks surprised at that, his head tilting slightly.
The Road Runner flips his sign again. 'Beep beep,' it reads. And then he says it out loud, letting the message carry across the distance to his friend. It says everything he needs to say, and the Coyote understands. He always has.
With a teasing flick of his tongue, the Road Runner is off again, running away at the speed of sound. About a half second later, he hears the familiar footfalls of the Coyote, hot on his tail as he chases him down the asphalt.
It's perfect.
It's home.
It's how things should be.