Work Text:
There aren't many things that scare Wile E. Coyote.
He's one of life's predators; one of those that does the biting rather than being bitten. He's dealt with everything ACME have tried to kill him with. And he's even gone to Congress.
He's a rather successful, scary and clever canine if he does say so himself.
So, no, Wile E. doesn't fear many things, too busy being a genius and making traps to worry about that sort of stuff. One thing he does fear though is a life without Road Runner in.
That cheeky bird makes Wile E.'s life worth living, worth chasing after, and the idea of there being no beeps, no wags of that pink tongue, and no soft blue feathers nuzzling up to Wile E.'s chin as they press against each other for a few teasing seconds just before Road Runner scurries off again in the opposite direction to Wile E.’s stumbling feet, makes Wile E. want to howl in despair.
Suffice to say, he's concerned when he's not seen Road Runner out in the desert for three days in a row.
They have a silent mutual agreement that neither of them intrudes on the other's resting spot - Wile E.'s cave and the bush Road Runner sleeps by on the side of the canyon.
Everything else is fair game but to be at their best for the chase they like to play, they both need to be able to get their rest.
But after Road Runner being a no show for three days, Wile E. feels like his concern for his feathered friend outweighs the agreed parameters of their game. Especially because before Road Runner has left him notes saying stuff like - gone to see family - on the rare occasion he's not been around.
So for there to be no word from him is what fuels Wile E. to make his way from his cave to that specific bush in pursuit of his friend and getting an update on his wellbeing.
He hears Road Runner before he sees him.
"Meep - CHOO!" There's a sound like a snuffly raspberry being blown into a tissue and then some sniffing.
Wile E. pokes his head around the bush and oh—
What a sorry sight.
Road Runner is sick.
He's not hurt or been birdnapped (as if anyone other than Wile E. could ever get close enough to him to even try) or gone on holiday without telling him. He's here, in his nest, but he's sick.
Eyes that are normally big and shiny and tempting Wile E. to play, are now gritty and red, swollen nearly shut where he's tired and run down. His blue plumage is dull instead of glossy and soft, and each in and out breath is all wheezy and sounds like it takes a lot of effort; nose stuffed and throat sore.
He's also trembling in place where he's curled up in a ball feeling sorry for himself.
Wile E. thinks his heart might break from how sad it all is.
He strokes his paw over Road Runner’s crested head and the bird lifts his head weakly. Looks at Wile E. through bleary eyes and chirps out a deflated beep.
Holds up a sign with a shaky wing; the movement taking more effort than normal.
Sorry I wasn't there.
Wile E. sighs and shakes his head, because the bird shouldn’t be apologising. Worried about you, Birdie.
Road Runner trills quietly and nuzzles up into the stroke of his hand. I'll be better soon, he meeps pathetically, before sneezing again. “Meep - chOO!”
Not soon enough.
Deciding the bird will get better quicker if he's looking after him; Wile E. scoops Road Runner into his arms and carries him back to his cave. Road Runner doesn't even protest, a testament to how tired and under the weather he is as usually he lives to annoy Wile E. about anything and everything just for fun; tucking his head against Wile E.'s furry chest instead and drifting off to sleep as they make their way across the warm sands.
He sets Road Runner down on his bed once they're back in his cave; throwing a blanket Wile E. had knitted in between coming up with contraptions and plans, over the bird and tucking him in.
"Meep?" Road Runner chirps in confusion.
Sleep, Wile E. says holding up a sign. Going to get you food.
He busses a kiss to Road Runner’s beak before he realises he's done it. He goes to apologise for overstepping but Road Runner is smiling, all soft and nestled in the blanket, like this is the happiest he's been since he got sick, so Wile E. doesn't say sorry. Just says he'll be back soon and then goes out into the desert looking for bugs and scorpions.
He finds a good selection not too far from the cave and then quickly hurries back. Road Runner is snoozing, making these little snuffly beeps in his sleep, like his nostrils are mostly blocked but he's still breathing which is the important thing.
Wile E. starts work on some insect and scorpion stew for the bird and by the time he's done, Road Runner is blinking awake.
"Beep beep beep?"
What smells nice?
Wile E. brings over a bowl of the stew and sits on his bed beside the bundle of blankets and feathers that is his friend. Eat, he says, nudging the bowl towards Road Runner.
The bird stares at him in confusion. Holds up a sign. You made this for me?
Wile E. blushes, nodding with a shy smile. Eat up. Need your strength so I can chase you again.
Road Runner coughs and shakes his head in refusal. “Meep meep.” Not hungry. The bird’s stomach rumbles then as if just to mock them both.
He exhales deeply and pinches the bridge of his snout, wondering why he can only envision life with so contrary a bird.
Birdie. Eat.
He makes sure to underline that word, to get across how important it is.
Road Runner pouts and crosses his wings in the cocoon of his blanket. “Beep beep beep.” You feed me.
Wile E. rolls his eyes, but if it’ll get him to eat the darn stew, then so be it. Hopping off the bed, he grabs a spoon and then sits back down. Plonks Road Runner and his blanket on his lap, making the bird chirp in surprise because he obviously thought Wile E. wouldn’t do it, and hooks an arm around his feathery body. Holds the bowl of stew in that paw, and then feeds Road Runner one spoonful at a time with his other; keeping his friend secure in the cradle of his arms and lap as he does so, so Road Runner can’t escape until he’s eaten every last drop.
Considering the reluctance and churlishness before, Road Runner slurps down the stew eagerly and with happy purring beeps; curling his neck around Wile E.’s once the bowl is empty and pressing a wet smooch to the far cheek in thanks before snuggling back down again into Wile E.’s chest and drifting off again.
He could just dump him back on the bed and occupy himself with other things, but Wile E. decides to just sit with him, stroking over the feathers he can reach, and making sure the bird feels safe and protected while he sleeps - just because Wile E. chases after him, doesn’t mean he wants anything to happen to him, or anyone else to attack Road Runner while he’s sleeping. The thought of the bird being on his own and sick for the previous three days where Wile E. couldn’t look after him, makes his heart clench terribly.
Wile E. must fall asleep at some point too, because he wakes up sprawled on the bed with Road Runner stretched out along his side, beak resting on the brown fur of his chest. He kisses the top of Road Runner’s head and just holds him, hoping he’ll be better soon.
It takes two days.
Two days of feeding Road Runner and cuddling him and making sure he gets his strength back. And then instead of sneezes and trembling, Road Runner is chirping loudly again and zipping around Wile E. goading him into getting his paws on him, and he’s running after him into the desert feeling like he can breathe properly again knowing the bird is okay.
He still doesn’t catch Road Runner though.
The bird’s energy as good as new, meaning he darts out of the way and runs rings around the coyote. If those rings he runs are closer than normal and leave kiss marks all over Wile E.’s fur, well, Wile E.’s not going to be upset about any of that.
The impish grin Road Runner gives him before he heads off to his nest one of the few things that’s successful in making Wile E. scared, only from how much he loves being on the receiving end of it.