Chapter Text
If you had told Wile E. Coyote just a month ago that, one day, he and Road Runner would be… friends… or even more…? Why, he’d laugh in your face.
Now that it was reality… no one was laughing.
They’d eased into it too quickly. He was sure of that.
Perhaps they just… needed to slow down.
But when he looked directly into the bird’s bright, expressive eyes, seeing nothing but plain adoration gazing back at him– he realized he knew those eyes better than his own.
The Road Runner. His Road Runner.
They had 77 years to come to this conclusion when it was all said and done. From their twisted game of Chase bore something the coyote couldn’t have fathomed sharing with anyone else. Not that he hadn’t tried with other coyotes, mind you.
It was only their second night together. Road Runner was still set up on the couch, but now he had everything he could ever want within his reach.
A bag of birdseed, for snacking, rested near his injured leg’s hip. An old Mason jar, full of water for drinking, sat idly on a side table. The remote control to the TV laid on the same side table, just next to the water.
All that was missing… was his coyote.
Said cartoon was cleaning up after dinner: a meager feast of snakes and lizards. He had allowed himself to leave the other alone just long enough to catch some of the most low maintenance prey one could find in the desert, but not before making sure Roadie was set up for success. Mainly with a drink and a snack. But, he hadn’t left without a quick kiss, either.
—
“Beep beep!”
The bird wanted his puppy cuddles.
After making sure their plates were clean (no running water in the cave, so he licked them, which was good enough), Wile E. relented, quietly padding to the couch and sitting beside his mate.
[ CUDDLES? ]
At least he was asking, now. The mammal nodded, scooting closer.
But wait…
Pausing, he placed a paw on Beep Beep’s wing.
[ WE SHOULD TALK ]
Roadie read the sign, tilting his head.
[ WHAT ABOUT? ]
[ WELL… ANYTHING ]
[ WE’VE NEVER ACTUALLY TALKED ]
It was true. Their game had been going on for so long– too long, Wile E. has concluded– but they rarely ever conversed. They’d better make an effort to get to know each other a little better if they were going to keep doing… whatever they were doing now.
[ TRUE ]
The Road Runner tapped his beak, pondering what to say next. Usually, “beep beep” would be sufficient. It was how he communicated with his family, and other road runners, and, up until now, his silly, funny coyote.
But his coyote was special, and this is what he wanted. So Beep Beep wanted it, too.
[ SO, WHY DID YOU CHASE ME FOR 77 YEARS? ]
Of all the things he could’ve said–
Wile E. bit back a groan, face meeting palm. This was not an easy question to answer.
[ MY FATHER TOLD ME I COULDN’T SPEAK UNTIL I CAUGHT YOU ]
Road Runner grimaced at that.
[ SOUNDS LIKE A JERK ]
Wile E. hesitated, before nodding morosely. His father was a jerk, but he didn’t want to bring him into it. It was too heavy
[ BUT YOU CAUGHT ME SO YOU CAN TALK NOW, RIGHT? ]
Wile E. considered it… briefly.
[ I DIDN’T ACTUALLY CATCH YOU ]
He finally reached over, smoothing over a patch of wings on the small of the bird’s back.
[ UNFAIR ADVANTAGE, AND ALL ]
Beep Beep smiled, laying his head on the other’s chest.
[ SO YOU’RE NOT DONE CHASING ME? ]
[ OF COURSE NOT ]
They lazily signed to each other, snuggling deeper into each other and the old, beaten up couch. It was getting late, the sun setting and giving way to a beautiful canvas of a sky, painted purple and pink. It was almost time to light some candles again.
Roadie worked his beak against the scraggly fur of Wile E.’s chest, preening lovingly. It was easier to sign and snuggle than he thought. Morse code would have been easy enough, as well; he had taught himself at one point with one of the coyote’s books years ago, which was how he knew that Wile E. understood it as well.
They could then, in theory, communicate through code and actual speech.
However, it seemed that his coyote was reluctant to try such a thing. It was fine, though, because Beep Beep would do anything to make his coyote happy and comfortable, after 77 years of repeated pain and suffering. Nope, no more of that. The only acceptable coyote from now on was a happy, well-fed coyote!
[ IF YOU WANT TO TALK VIA SIGNS, THAT’S OKAY WITH ME ]
Wile E. tensed for a moment. He was… not used to having his feelings considered like this. Not from anyone, let alone Road Runner.
[ YEAH. THANKS. ]
With flushed cheeks, Wile E. abandoned signs for a moment in order to squeeze his birdie.
Meeping in delight, Roadie scooted onto his lap. Their size difference allowed them to fit together remarkably well, almost like they were made for each other. The concept made Wile E. blush more.
It was his fault they had become a bonded pair, but he truly wouldn’t have it any other way.
Wile E. gently stroked his mate’s long neck, plumage gently tickling his nose as he inhaled the top of the bird’s head.
This was… nice, but the conversation had fizzled out.
[ HOPE YOUR FAMILY DOESN’T SUCK ]
Glancing up to read the sign, Roadie nodded.
[ THEY DON’T. MOM, DAD, SIBLINGS– THEY DON’T LIVE AROUND HERE, BUT I VISIT THEM EVERY SO OFTEN ]
Wile E. knew this; every once in a while, the bird would disappear for a day or two. It hardly mattered back then; if anything, it gave the coyote a chance to deploy an extra complicated, sure to work scheme the next time they engaged in The Chase!
Of course, the results spoke for themselves in an explosive way, just like they always did.
[ I’M GLAD ]
Pausing, a twisted thought entered Wile E.’s brain.
[ WHAT WOULD THEY SAY TO A COYOTE BEING YOUR MATE? ]
He knew his own father would have something to say, for sure. But he’d never know, because he hadn’t seen his father since he left home for the first time. At this point, he assumed he was dead.
[ I THINK THEY’D BE PROUD THAT I FOUND SOMEONE SO… ]
The list of adjectives filled up quickly, requiring their own sign.
[ CUNNING, GENIUS, CLEVER, INTERESTING, CUTE, DETERMINED, STRONG, COOL, SMART, CHARMING, NICE TO CUDDLE…]
Oh, he was smitten! Eyes turning to hearts, Roadie swayed in place, holding the sign proudly.
Some of the adjectives were synonyms of each other, but the wild bird didn’t need a grammar lesson right then and there. He was unbearably sweet, and it didn’t take long to realize that no one had ever been this nice to the coyote before.
The tears welling in his eyes betrayed him, giving way to raw emotion that wasn’t wholly unfamiliar, but still uncomfortable. Coyote covered his eyes with a shaky arm, sniffling. His Road Runner hugged him, cooing and preening his fur once more.
This, it seemed, was the perfect recipe to turn him into Coyote Mush.
They held each other there on the couch, sign-less. Gentle paws grasped at soft feathers, holding onto the precious bird; a kind beak continued to gently pick, weaving through small tangles and smoothing cowlicks against a rough, desert worn coat.
What few tears fell from the coyote were eventually pushed away by the same beak, a silent declaration: ‘It’s okay to cry, to feel so deeply. I’m here now, though, so let me take care of it.’
Worn out, the pair eventually settled, falling asleep there together.