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Pursuing no longer meant following to achieve. A metamorphosis without explanation or reason for having changed in the first place. Wile was hungry; that phrase started it all.
Hunger, the need to satiate, to nourish or fill himself, lost its meaning with each race the Road Runner won. A feeling more volatile than the rumblings of his stomach persisted, mutated, became an undefined concept within the Coyote, something only he could fully comprehend. The hunger ceased; he always found something to eat, but he wanted to hunt him. The privilege of having captured the fastest creature in all of New Mexico should rest upon his claws. His stomach fluttered with anticipation, the game, the tiny possibility that, each day, he was one step closer to catching him, to having Roadie in the custody of his cave. It wasn't about eating him; it was about possessing him—like an object, of course, like a trophy, tangible and invaluable. The implications of his own words stung the taste buds on his tongue, hesitating with what the storehouses of his brain concealed—whole. Dead was nothing more than a carcass for vultures.
He's aware of the passage of time since they were drawn and assigned a purpose: to entertain, to be the show itself. Eighty years of hunting him down, with the virtue of persistence flowing through his veins, and he was more than at peace with the likelihood that it would continue for many more.
(Even with his voracious appetite, the Coyote hopes it won't end. Routine is inherent to his beings, as inherent as the sand carried by the wind to the sound wave chasing the Road Runner; it is complementary, natural, and logical. If planet Earth were to stop orbiting the sun, what would become of the Earth itself, how would its entire ecosystem function?)
Perhaps the Road Runner feels something similar. To be a prize, and one from the only Coyote on the face of the earth so obsessed with his head. Sometimes, at night when his mind burnsout with plans to capture Road, he wants to believe that Road is testing him, verifying that Wile is worthy.
That morning he buys some roller skates. And that afternoon he's suing ACME.
______
After Kevin and his niece give him goodbye, he dives back into the game with the Road Runner. They race each other to the Sonora border wall, where Wile crashes into the bricks, causing Roadie to stop and check on him. But Roadie sticks his tongue out at Wile's determination and lets out a "beep beep" as the Coyote's birds stop flying overhead. They veer east, careful not to venture into the green expanse of Texas, and as the sun begins to set, they head back to Mojave.
Something interesting happens at the sunset, with the big star as only witness.
Wile is overtaken by the Road Runner, as usual. He's exhausted, panting, his tongue lolling out from the effort, a hand on his chest, though his humor remains undiminished. He smiles—weakly, even a small laugh treacherously escaping from his nonexistent larynx—thinking about gadgets for tomorrow. He also thinks that's it, the day is over, and they were both ready to rest after today, but in the distance, he sees a frantic figure running at full speed in his direction. Something hits him, muffled by a sensation that reminds him of pillows.
When he comes to, he feels Roadie. His feathered body creates a slight weight on his belly, even taking its time to settle, almost rubbing against the Coyote's hips. To add to the mess Wile is becoming, the bird's legs straddle either side of him. He watches; Wile remains rigid and terrified.
"You smell like rabbit" The Road Runner—who, it should be noted, sports a dangerously inquisitive expression—holds up the sign like a pulverizing laser beam between Wile's eyes.
Wile sensed it instantly, Bugs. It seemed illogical to him that the scent of the arrogant rabbit could linger on his fur after so many days, but he couldn't argue with Road, especially not with his murderous glare. He was never unaware of how possessive the Road Runner could be; he considered it a blessing, after all. Why not be glad that he was reluctant to be hunted by some other lazy, dim-witted coyote? However, Road cared more that no other prey caught his eye, much less Bugs Bunny, anyone but Bugs Bunny.
The Coyote's fear of being trapped under the Road Runner vanishes; his senses assimilate and accept it, embracing the sensation of the other's soft belly against his flat stomach. He holds up a sign, "I didn't see him to much" short and concise, hoping that response will appease the Road Runner's anger.
Road doesn't seem convinced; his eyes narrow, and his beak seems sharper than ever. "You saw him" the ink on the sign mocks him, cruelly reminding him that he fell for it, as always. Tough luck, Sisyphus.
His shoulders slump, accompanied by a nervous grimace that reveals all his teeth in a fearful row, an action that only worsens Road's fragile temperament. In a flutter, his delicate feathers leave his rough fur, leaving a ghostly emptiness in the fibers of his hair.
The Road Runner prepares to leave, but instead of taking off and disappearing in a cloud of dust, he trots, swinging his tail feathers, clearly hoping Wile will follow. And the Coyote doesn't wait a second to keep up, sprinting past, brandishing sign after sign that Road doesn't deign to stop and read. He stretches his arm to his left side to display his sign, "I won't see him again," but Road looks away; he tries again to the right: "forgive me" and the bird remains stubborn. He's not up for this—in this state, he could wrap his talons around Wile's neck in an instant, and while the fog of jealousy blinds him, he wouldn't even realize he let the Coyote win. However, that's not how it's played. It's a rule, it's during a chase. That's sacred—and he doesn't want Roadie refusing to show up the next day, as he has done years before in similar situations.
The Road Runner's legs were ready to run, and oh no, he wasn't going to let that happen. Wile stopped, his second-to-last available sign wrapped around his right paw, a deep growl escaping between his teeth. His entire arm took a running start, spinning the sign like a roulette wheel. A bark, and he launched it with a force that could cut through the air.
"Why do you care so much?"
Before he could even blink, Road had already craned his neck to look at him, claws buried in the sand just inches from the buried sign. He examined him, his face shifting from a silly grin to a serious expression, calculating, scrutinizing for any trace of something the Coyote didn't know he had to hide.
So, he replies, "We're a couple, you're courting me." Road raises an offended eyebrow, looking ready to peck him until only a colander remains of Coyote.
He chokes. Wile knew everything about roadrunners—all the cooking recipes, the flavors of their meat, their cuts, and how to prepare each one—so that question on Roadie's signboard was definitely a shock that threw him off balance.
Road approaches, snaking with his neck, carefully testing the waters of Coyote's personal space—as if he hadn't invaded it a million times before—his beak resting against the cannine's furry chest, allowing him to process the situation. Wile lowers his head, and that movement guides his snout to meet the tip of his prey's beak. Road flicks out his tongue and licks the edge of one of the Coyote's teeth. His pupils swirl.
A soft beep, seemingly meaningless, but something whispers in his head, "Didn't you know?" He shudders. No, of course he didn't know.
Incredibly, that made sense, too much to be true, too... does that even change anything? Partner or not, courtship or not, Wile still wanted to hunt him down, and at the same time, it was strangely comforting to discover that he'd been in a rather long-standing relationship with the Road Runner himself, because that meant he was completely his by the time he caught him. Maybe he'd talk to Kevin about it later; the poor man had the will of the world against him much more than Wile E. Coyote himself. Perhaps something similar had happened to him. Wile grinned with a renewed playful expression. "I hate carrots, chill out."
Roadie rolls his eyes, softened enough for the moment; he can even feel a vibration coming from his throat. Wile grins, and a hand with lethal claws squeezes the backside of the distracted Road Runner, causing him to jump with a sharp "Beep!" The pink flush on his face threatened to become his favorite color. Roadie vanishes in a gust of wind, but before he does, he poses behind the stranded sign with a new message: "Keep it family friendly! (For now)." Roadie sticks out his tongue and closes his eyes; the gesture sends a frantic rush of heartbeat through Wile.
The Coyote glimpses the rain of sand that Road creates, and still wants to try to catch him.