Work Text:
HELLO, ROAD RUNNER!
Coyote held the sign as he stood in the clearing outside his cave, the evening light turning the red rock soft and gold, waiting patiently for his expected guest. After a few moments, Road Runner skidded to a halt in a spray of dust - and his usual bright, expectant expression flickered into confusion. He tilted his head, studied the sign, then the coyote holding it. After a beat he produced a sign of his own from behind his back.
SIGNS AGAIN?
Coyote's shoulders lifted in an elegant little shrug. He flipped his sign around.
IT IS WHAT I AM USED TO. BESIDES, I DID NOT WANT YOU TO FEEL LEFT OUT SINCE YOU DO NOT SPEAK.
Road Runner's feathers puffed with agitation. He shook his head so hard the sign he was holding nearly flew from his wing. After a moment, he flipped it around.
SPEAK!!
Coyote blinked. He lowered his sign and spoke, his voice still unfamiliar in his own mouth. "You... prefer my voice?" he asked, tentatively.
The effect was immediate. Road Runner let out a series of rapid, delighted beeps, bounced in place, then shot into a tight circle around Coyote so fast the dust formed a miniature whirlwind. He came to a stop directly in front of Coyote, chest heaving, eyes bright, and gave one more emphatic beep-beep. A real laugh escaped Coyote - surprised, and thoroughly undignified. He reached out and smoothed Road Runner's feathers, which had gotten disheveled in his excitement.
“Ah,” he said, voice softening with fondness. “Well then. Who am I to deny your wishes, my Road Runner?”
Road Runner pressed closer to him, practically vibrating, and Coyote, still smiling, began to speak again - choosing his words quietly and deliberately - simply so the bird he had finally caught could listen.