Work Text:
It starts over lunch.
Lunch is a fairly common thing Wile E. has started doing—once every week or two, he makes his way to Kevin’s office and drags him out to get something to eat. The lawyer has somehow gone from doing nothing and not taking care of himself to working nonstop and not taking care of himself. You’d think Kevin thought he was a Toon, given how careless he was with these things. Don’t get him wrong, Wile E. is glad the firm is doing well, and Kevin has found his spark again, but one day he’s going to walk into his office and find him passed out on the floor.
Today they’re sitting in the corner of a fried chicken fast food chain because no one there gets paid enough to kick them out when Wile E. makes a mess devouring a light snack of 20 drumsticks. Sometimes Kevin takes him to try other types of bird meat—none as good as a Road Runner would taste—but they tend to stick with chicken, as it’s the easiest and cheapest. So far, Wile E. has had chicken, turkey, pheasant, quail, and on one memorable occasion, peacock.
Paige had booked them a spot at a very upscale restaurant, which had been very nice up until they got kicked out because they refused to serve Toons. Wile E. had been upset, especially when Kevin went back in without him, until after about 30 minutes of waiting, when the lawyer came back out, peacock drumstick in hand. Kevin ushered him into the car and sped out of the parking lot, and they haven’t gone near the place since. Wile E. tried to ask him what happened, seeing as he expected to walk away from the establishment empty-handed and hungry, but his friend refused to elaborate.
So, it's best they stick to chicken.
“Man,” Kevin says somewhat absentmindedly, watching Wile E. pull out a random assortment of spices and seasonings for his food from seemingly nowhere. “That’d be real helpful for my move.”
Wile E. tensed, looking up at him curiously.
“I mean, I don’t have that much stuff,” Kevin continued to explain, not realizing what exactly the coyote was concerned about. “But I have to get all new furniture, and that stuff is heavy.”
Wile E. finally interrupts, pulling out a sign to emphasize his growing worries. “You’re moving?”
Kevin reads it and stills, like only now processing that he had been talking about something he had wanted to keep secret. “Oh, yeah. I mean, the motel isn’t really a great place to live now that a lot of the press knows I stayed there, and I have a little money from all these cases, so I can actually afford a house. Besides, it’s not a great look for our firm, staying in a place like that.” His eyes widen slightly as he quickly corrects. “Not that it’s bad to live in a motel, or anything. Just, I can do better now, I guess.”
Wile E. flips the sign, asking the question his friend has yet to explain. “How far are you going?”
Kevin’s brow furrows some in confusion. “Not far, really. I don’t want that long of a commute to the office. It’s not like—“ he cuts himself off, like catching onto the thread of anxiety that’s been pulling at the coyote’s chest. “I’m not leaving.” He promises sincerely, looking Wile E. in the eyes and smiling softly as the coyote shrinks in the booth a little, embarrassed at the assumption. “No, you’re stuck with me, Pal. Me, Paige, and everyone else at the firm. If anything…” Kevin trails off slightly, his turn to be embarrassed. “Well, I found this little place at the edge of town. It’s as close as one could get to the desert without actually leaving town limits, you know. Restaurants don’t deliver, and packages arrive with varying reliability, so it makes ordering furniture a hassle. I think the mail carrier is actually kind of annoyed someone is living there again.”
Wile E. perks up, tail wagging slightly with excitement at the implications.
“Not that I want to intrude on what you have going on, or assume that you want a silly human in your life more often, but—“
Wile E. interrupts his self-loathing-riddled doubt, shoving another sign in his face. “When can I see it?”
Kevin laughs, seeming relieved. “This is why I was going to wait to tell you. It’s not all set up yet. I barely have a bed.”
Wile E. lets Kevin drop the subject for now, and they continue their conversation with new topics, but he schemes in the background. When Kevin drops him back off at his cave, he sets to work. Between gathering supplies, using those supplies in plans to catch the Road Runner, and having to gather more supplies and actually build it, it takes three weeks before Wile E. shows up at Kevin’s new place.
Wile E. stands on the front porch, knapsack swung over his shoulder, whistling innocently as Kevin opens the door, obvious surprise on his face.
“How did you—“ Kevin starts to ask, seeing as he hadn’t actually given Wile E. his address yet. “Never mind. Come on in.” He stands back, waving the coyote inside and shutting the door behind him. “It is good to see you, Wile E. Even if it is 8 pm on a Tuesday. You could’ve given me some warning, you know.” He chastizes lightly. “I would’ve had a meal for you. Or, at least," he glances down at himself somewhat self-consciously, “not been in my pajamas.”
Wile E. takes a moment to look up from where he’s untying the checkered fabric of the knapsack from the stick it hangs from. He stares at him with an eyebrow raised, as if to remind him that he’s seen the lawyer out of his professional attire before. With an amused shake of his head, he unravels the fabric, and out pops an entire bookshelf. Kevin eyes the knapsack enviously for a moment before stepping closer to get a better look at the shelf.
It’s an actual bookshelf, not a toon one. Kevin didn’t know that toon physics worked on real objects, but he knows better than to try to apply logic to that type of thing. The bookshelf is industrial-looking, the wooden shelves seeming to be made of pieces of driftwood, similar to the few dead trees you might occasionally see in the desert. The frame of the unit is made from what appears to be metal pipes, and Kevin doesn’t dare ask where the coyote found those, hoping to plead plausible deniability. If an ACME factory turns up on the news reporting missing piping, he’ll turn a blind eye. Despite the hodgepodge of materials, the shelf is remarkably sturdy and looks like something out of an industrial-style home magazine.
“This is great, Wile E.!” Kevin says with a grin.
Wile E. grins in return and shoves it to fit neatly in a blank spot on the wall, the shelf looking perfectly in place for having been randomly introduced to his living room. Wile E. takes a step back to judge the placement, and when he’s satisfied, fishes around in the bag for something else. The coyote makes a small, triumphant sound and places a little figurine on the right corner of the top shelf. Kevin steps closer and finds that the little figurine seems to be made out of screws, bolts, and various little scrap pieces of metal. It takes a second for Kevin to place what the figure is, but then he kicks himself for being oblivious. It’s the Road Runner.
“Did you make this too?” Kevin asks.
“I like to keep my hands busy when I think,” Wile E. explains with one of his signs. “And you said you didn’t have much stuff.”
“That’s very sweet of you, Wile E. Thank you. I love it," Kevin says sincerely. The coyote flushes red at the compliment and seems to shrink in on himself a little, so Kevin takes pity on him and puts him out of his misery. “Want a tour of the place?” He offers. “Mind you, I’m still settling in, but most of the furniture is here now.”
Wile E. nods eagerly and follows Kevin as he leads him deeper into the house.
“That was the living room, and here’s the kitchen.” Kevin gestures vaguely to the rooms around them. “Nothing too fancy: a fridge, a stove, a microwave. Window over the sink. Barely enough room for a table in the corner. Your standard stuff. There was a formal dining room, but that kind of became a place to store all my work stuff, and now it’s kind of become my home office. Not like I’d need a formal dining room anyway.”
Wile E. surveys the room, eyes catching on the blueprint scrap he had given him at the end of their case, framed and hanging above the small dining room table. To distract himself from any emotions that might cause him, he quickly rummages through all of the cabinets and finds them sparsely filled. He darts in and out of the home office, leaving a trail of papers in his wake, and stops back in front of Kevin, eating some salami he took from the fridge.
Kevin just laughs. “Like I said, if you had told me you were coming over, I would have gotten groceries on my way in from work.” When Wile E. just shrugs, Kevin continues with the tour. “Okay, back through the living room we have the bedrooms and bathroom.”
Wile E. notices some pictures hanging up in the hallway, of what he can only assume is Kevin’s family. All the photos look like selfies taken by Paige with varying family members in the background, which means she’s probably the only reason he has them in the first place. In fact, Wile E. assumes the only reason this house is even remotely decorated at all is because of Paige.
“Only one bathroom and three bedrooms, but it’s only me, really, so it’s not like I’ll have to share. This one is mine.” Kevin pushes the door open slightly for Wile E. to peek inside the large bedroom. “I don’t really know what to do with all this space, but Paige keeps telling me that’s the fun part. That I get to find things to fill it with, like a true old person.” Kevin rolls his eyes, but it’s fond. “Anyway, this is the guest bedroom, though there’s not much in it yet, and this..." He stops in front of the last bedroom door at the end of the hall, suddenly looking nervous. Wile E. looks at him curiously. “I thought, if you ever wanted a break from your cave or didn’t want to make the trek back after staying over late or whatever. Well, I thought this one could be for you.”
Wile E. pushes open the door with something like reverence, even if the only thing in the room was a bed and a small nightstand with a lamp.
“I know it’s not much, but I left it as kind of a blank slate so you could do what you wanted with it. I mean, really, it was Paige’s idea, because she said then it would really feel like home and not just another guest bedroom, but also I didn’t want to assume in case you didn’t want it because I know you have your thing with the Road Runner and—“
Wile E. interrupts by throwing himself at his friend, grabbing his arms and shaking him enthusiastically.
“You like it?” Kevin asks with a small laugh, and Wile E. nods so fast he blurs. “Well, good. I want you to know you have a place here. A home here, I guess. Well, a home away from home, or whatever.” The lawyer rambles out, avoiding eye contact as he tries to settle his nerves.
Wile E. gets his attention with one of his signs. “It’s perfect.” He promises, and Kevin nods once with a slight grin.
“Good.” He says again. “That’s good.”
___ ___ ___
When Wile E. visits the next time, it’s actually planned, which means there’s food sitting on the table when he arrives. The coyote comes with offerings of his own, a knapsack bulging with things to add to his room and another little figurine. He places it on the shelf next to the first—this being a palm-sized sculpture of a desert rose—and notices the bookshelf has remained barren. Wile E. gestures at the blank shelves in confusion, glancing over at Kevin.
“You were supposed to get more stuff.” He chastizes with one of his signs. “Fun things. Little trinkets. Something so this place isn’t as sad and impersonal as the motel.”
“Hey,” Kevin complains. “I have gotten stuff. I just left the shelf empty.”
Wile E. looks around for evidence to back his friend’s claim, and now that he’s looking for it, he sees he's right. There’s some art on the wall, and new furniture filling in gaps that were previously missing, like a shoe rack by the door and a TV playing softly in the background, filling the space with white noise. There are some power tools, painting materials, and various other supplies in the home office; the couch has throw pillows, and the living room has a rug. The kitchen has one of those fancy trash cans you step on to open the lid, and there’s a folding door half open in the hallway revealing a washer and dryer that shine like new.
Okay, so, fine, there’s new stuff, but Wile E. gestures at the shelf again questioningly.
“I already told you, I left the shelf empty on purpose. You said that you make stuff while you think, so I figure you have a bunch of little things lying around that need a permanent home. Whenever you drop by, you can bring some of your stuff, and in no time, this shelf will be full. Like my own little personal art gallery.”
Wile E. turns back and now considers the shelf fondly instead of with annoyance, feeling touched. It’s not what he had intended when he made the shelf for his friend, but he supposes he can’t be too mad. He crosses his arms and huffs, but it’s obvious he’s not actually upset.
Kevin rolls his eyes at his friend’s antics. “Was there anything else you wanted to criticize, or can we eat now?”
Wile E. motions towards his room, pointing at the knapsack and back again.
“Oh, you brought stuff to decorate? Now this I have to see.”
Kevin follows the coyote down the hall to the room he showed him last time and finds Wile E. staring at the little, crooked wooden sign hanging from a small peg on the door. The sign is handmade—obviously so—and doesn’t even come close to the quality of craftsmanship of the shelf Wile E. had gifted him. The wood is uneven, the holes aren't level, the twine it hangs from is slightly fraying, and the words are painted with wobbly hands. The sign is far from perfect, but it proudly boasts “Wile E.’s Room,” and that’s all the matter.
“I wanted it to be official," Kevin admits somewhat quietly from beside him, and the coyote suddenly realizes what all the craft supplies in the home office were for.
“I love it.” Wile E. promises and pushes open the door, stepping into the room.
Kevin watches from the doorway as Wile E. opens the knapsack and blurs around the room, transforming it in a matter of seconds. It’s messy but homey, reminding him slightly of what the motel room became while the coyote was living there, an odd mix of toon and human things. There are definitely a couple of human items in the room that weren’t there prior, and Kevin refrains from asking where his friend got them. He doesn’t need to know if he robbed an IKEA. Wile E. turns toward him, gesturing dramatically when he’s done, and Kevin gives a small nod of approval.
“Looks like it was made for you.”
Wile E. gives his handywork one last glance before holding up another sign. “Food now?”
Kevin laughs. “You’re the only reason we haven’t dug in yet. C’mon, I got turkey this time.”
Wile E. licks his chops in that cartoonish way of his and speeds past Kevin towards the kitchen. Kevin follows behind at a slower pace, but not too slow, or there won’t be any left. The table is set, drinks are poured, and the food is dished out onto plates, while Wile E. taps his foot impatiently as he waits for Kevin to situate himself in his seat. They talk some as they eat, Wile E. swallowing a turkey wing in one terrifying bite and Kevin going at a more human pace. The TV, which Kevin had all but forgotten about, flickers some and then shifts to static. They both glance towards the noise. Kevin sighs a little, and Wile E. looks back at him curiously.
“Oh, it’s fine.” Kevin dismisses easily. “Don’t worry about it. Just not the best service out here. It comes and goes.” As if by magic, the TV flickers back to normal, displaying whatever programming was disrupted. “See? It’s about as reliable as my mail.” He jokes and turns back to his food.
Wile E. goes back to eating as well, but when the TV skips and stutters just a few minutes later, his ears turn towards it. They continue their conversation, but the TV cuts out again, and Wile E. looks like he’s about to vibrate out of his seat.
“We can just turn it off if it bothers you.” Kevin offers, but the coyote shakes his head.
“Doesn’t bother me.” Wile E. says with his sign, and Kevin doesn’t believe him but doesn’t call him out on it.
Instead, he watches his friend as the TV continues to act up until a few minutes later, when he finally puts the pieces together.
“Go on,” he says, motioning to the TV with his head.
“What?”
“I know you’re itching to fix it, so I’m telling you it’s okay.”
Wile E. resists for a second longer, but at the sound of static again, he darts out of his chair. Kevin can’t see the living room from where he’s sitting, but he hears the sound of loud cutting, grinding, and welding and turns back to his meal with a fond grin. All engineers are the same.
It takes only a few minutes before Wile E. is back at the table in front of him, fur slightly singed and ruffled, but the coyote seems satisfied and more relaxed.
“I assume I won’t be having connection issues anymore?” Kevin guesses, and at Wile E.’s nod, once again tries not to apply human logic to toon things. “Well, thank you. Having you around will certainly save me money on having to call a handyman."
Wile E. glares at him, indignant and unimpressed, as if he would be able to resist the urge in the first place.
___ ___ ___
“You know,” Kevin says, months later, looking at that bookshelf Wile E. made him as a housewarming gift. The shelf stands as strong as ever but has become quite overrun with little trinkets, metal catching flashes of light. “I think you’re going to need to build a second one.”