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Wile E. Coyote was worn from head to toe.
Being a cartoon generally served him well, in the genetics department; it was well known by most, at this point, that they were resilient creatures. They could take endless amounts of slapstick (literally) violence and bounce back, as good as ever, each time.
Supposedly.
Years of abusing his body with faulty products had taken a toll in numerous ways. Brittle teeth, wiry fur, fragile claws– all plenty noticeable to anyone who actually cared (which is why Kevin and Paige had been pressuring him to ‘take better care of’ himself with all kinds of new products, but he didn’t always care to or remember to use them).
Of course, not to mention his paws…
Sigh. His paws.
The black pads were incredibly dry and rough, calloused from repeated invention-crafting and decades of running in the desert, with nothing to protect them from the hot, dry New Mexican ground. Cracks formed along the natural curves of each pad, often re-splitting and bleeding if working on a particularly component-heavy trap.
The sight of them was enough to make the coyote stop and frown.
They were tangible reminders of each failed trap, of each faulty ACME product. Each time he’d been used by ACME. Each time he’d almost caught the Road Runner.
Sigh. The Road Runner…
An impossibly gorgeous creature.
Since reevaluating their relationship and allowing things to take a more… romantic turn, the pair had been quite obsessed with spending time together, and things with Roadie always got snuggly. Up close, Wile E. was able to properly decode his 77 year long obsession and realize, god, his birdie was always beautiful.
His feathers were the main attraction, fanning out in every direction in stunning blue hues. They felt like the most luxurious silk, putting his ragged paws to absolute shame.
They were a point of pride to the avian toon, unlike his partner’s… well, everything other than his genius brain, really.
But, for some reason, especially his paws.
It was pitiful, really, how often he found himself staring at them, expression probably mirroring that of a kicked puppy’s. (Shut up.)
But this time, someone happened to notice.
Before he could properly register his presence, Wile E. felt a weight hit the back of his shoulder. Road Runner had appeared behind him, using his long neck to crane around and view the coyote’s front. This wasn’t too surprising, per se- they were spending the night together in Wile E.’s cave, after all- but the mammal jolted a bit anyway. Shit, Roadie had been way too quiet to sneak up on him like that–
[ WHAT’S WRONG? ]
– and immediately ask him that. Huffing, Wile E. spun around to face his partner with one arm crossed, the other indignantly holding a sign.
[ NOTHING ]
[ WRONG ]
Roadie’s response was quick, confident. He was an expert on Wile E. Coyote specifically; he knew when something was bothering him.
Sometimes, if he wasn’t feeling well, he set up traps slower or a little less careful. Sometimes, his speed would suffer during their game of Chase, and Roadie would purposefully slow down himself just to keep it interesting. Sometimes, his mischievous expression just seemed… forced, rehearsed.
But sometimes, he got caught disassociating while staring at his paws.
[ NOTHING ]
Wile E. didn’t bother with another sign. It was nothing worth getting into.
[ WRONG ]
Again, Road Runner was adamant. He often got his way when it came to getting Wile E. to open up, which was helpful for a budding relationship.
[ PLEASE TELL ME? ]
The expression he pulled with the new sign was… too powerful. Doe eyes, beak quivering slightly, feathers on his head drooping mournfully…
Scratch that. Roadie always got his way.
Wile E. rolled his eyes but smiled all the same, uncrossing his arms to scoop his mate up, holding him easily. They made their way to the couch, Road Runner cooing and beeping happily as he pecked at the fur on Wile E.’s muzzle, preening him.
As they sat, the coyote carefully pulled the bird into his lap, allowing himself to be gently fussed over for a moment before pulling out his next sign.
[ YOUR FEATHERS… THEY’RE PERFECT ]
He flushed a warm pink under his fur, cartoon physics highlighting it like a neon sign. His free paw searched for a specific spot on Roadie’s left side, settling there when he had found it (an extra sensitive area under his wing). Gentle claws dug into the plush feathers there, scratching the skin underneath. It made Roadie hum and vibrate, almost like a purring cat. Absolute perfection.
Letting out a low ‘meep,’ Roadie closed his eyes for the moment at the feeling of his mate’s perfect appendages that knew exactly where to go and what to do, before replying.
[ AND? ]
Ugh. Wile E.’s ears fell flat against his head, eyes locked on the beautiful toon in his lap. He felt a quick, potent wash of shame fall over him, fearing that his self-loathing thoughts sounded… silly.
Oh well. There was only one way to find out.
[ MY PAWS ]
He waited for a moment, contemplating exactly how to explain.
[ THEY’VE SEEN BETTER DAYS ]
Sheepishly, he held them up in between the both of them, staring down at them once more. They were slightly dusted with sand and dirt, gathered from the desert floor and the deep crevices between Road Runner’s feathers (and despite being slightly dirty, he was still always so soft and vibrant…).
Roadie looked in between the paws and his beloved’s face, blinking. Better days? Have they not been spending their best days together, now?
[ I DOUBT THAT ]
Wile E. rolled his eyes again, producing another sign quickly.
[ WHAT I MEAN IS… ]
He stopped again, considering his words before flipping the sign over.
[ THEY’RE WORN OUT, DRY, CRACKED. PAINFUL. SOMETIMES THEY BLEED. ]
At this point, they were both staring at the abused paw pads.
[ THEY REMIND ME OF ACME. ]
They were both silent for a moment or so, eyes cast down at the coyote’s paws. Wile E. felt like covering his eyes with his ears, just to hide from this situation and his damned feelings. His lip quivered, and he moved to hide the offending appendages–
Until Roadie leaned down, kissing each cushion tenderly. He hummed with each kiss, holding the other around his gaunt waist with his wings.
Defenses falling, Wile E. allowed a tear or two to roll down his cheeks, touched beyond belief at the attention and care and love showered upon the object of his insecurity.
[ YOU’VE BEEN THROUGH SO MUCH. ]
Roadie acknowledged, kissing his precious coyote on the snout before returning to adoring his paws.
[ THEY ARE A SYMBOL OF YOUR HARD WORK AND DEDICATION. ]
Too many words, not enough sign space. He scrambled for a new one, wiping Wile E.’s tears with his own cheek in an affectionate nuzzle.
[ YOU ARE PERFECT, TO ME ❤︎ ]
With a loud sniffle, Coyote squeezed Roadie, letting the track of tears die at the junction between his mate’s neck and wing.
Wile E. knew he wasn’t perfect; he didn’t have much more than his intellect to brag about, at least.
But, really, only one creature in the world actually needed to like him, and said creature, the adorable force of nature that was his Road Runner, happened to think he was perfect.
And that was enough to smooth over his old, worn heart.