Work Text:
The trial against ACME left Wile E. Coyote, genius extraordinaire, a sense of accomplishment. He won the case, ACME products will no longer be use toons to be guinea pigs for the betterment of their true humans.
Kevin had also told him that he would be receiving a huge compensation for damages done for him all over the years; more than $300. Which was okay, he guesses. Not like there's much use for that now.
But he's back in the desert. It's hot and dusty— and he's home. It's in a similar state where he left it. Though, now he'd have to figure out how to live without ACME. Because as much as its products' defective nature had resulted in his harm over the years, it became some sort of crutch he refused to let go of.
The breaking point? His ACME dependency is nothing compared to his raison d'etre.
Amidst the dusty browns that stretches on miles and miles, there was his reason of being. A blue bird. Scrawny, lanky, lithe, nothing but bones. Ugly too. Not really.
And yet, the little bird proclaimed that he was his friend. Testified for him in court. The sole answer to the question: "Does anyone in the whole world would even care what happens to the coyote?"
"You came back," the Road Runner holds up a sign.
"Yes" He signed back. For real this time. "I did." For you. Only you.
Roadie's eyes shaped into surprise. Then, tap. Tap. Tap tap. Tap. "You talked."
Wile thought about it for a moment. Decades and decades perhaps the Road Runner only heard sighs, moans, and short screams from him. He himself doesn't even remember if he uttered a full sentence to him at all. Maybe he never did at all.
Words between them were always communicated by signs at the very least. And Wile thought it unnecessary to use his voice in the action of the their "cat and mouse" game. Wile E. only needed to hear the incoming whooses from his Beep Beep. Well that, and the "bleps", "beeps", and the occasional "meeps".
After all, the thrill of their chase need not utter any words when it is rooted in deep obsession.
Unfazed, Roadie only gleefully stuck his tongue out and continued to zip across the desert, uncaring of the monumental moment that transpired.
As goes for Wile E. Coyote as well, as he sprints, following his prey.
Something has changed since that day. That much he can't deny.
Roadie is doing something small, albeit with intent. There's half a second of pause when he runs. Almost like he wants Wile to use that oh so gracious time frame to—he dares say—catch up to him. There were multiple instances where he pauses to look back. A mere second before he bolts away once again. Now that wasn't uncommon, per say. But Wile was sensitive to these changes enough to notice his bird was expecting something to happen.
Do you want to be caught? He wants to ask. Did he forget the end goal of the chase was his death? Did he want this song and dance to end? Or worse.
Was he bored?
He dusts off the debris off his fur from the latest contraption he made to capture the bird. A failure yet again, but he managed to touch his beak. That was something. Something, something.
There's something. Wile looks towards the ending sun. His Road Runner only left a trail of dust in his wake, a signature of his. A classic end to their day. With the exception of a sole feather he leaves behind; under the sunset, it shimmers between a deep azure and a bright purple. Wile remembers in the back of his mind that the coloration of feathers do mean something in their species. But he keeps it with him for now.
Wile pulls out a sack of bird seed and leaves it in the middle of the road before he goes back to Alberquerque to meet with Kevin and Paige. Hopefully his birdie will appreciate the berries mixed in there.
Kevin and Paige are told of his current predicament. Wile, with the help of some creative puppetry and some pre-prepared signs, he was somewhat able to convey his situation to them.
"I think it's flirting," Kevin unhelpfully says,
"Ditto," echoes Paige. Also, unhelpful.
Wile holds up a sign. "IT'S NOT."
Kevin shrugs like he saw this coming. He's more relaxed now after the case, Wile thinks he looks more and more of typical lawyers in the shows on TV. "Remember when I asked you what is it about the road runner that makes you never want to stop?"
Yeah. So what.
"You gave me a blank sign, as in, there are no words?" Kevin circles his hands around, goading him to admitting something.
He raises up another sign. "Because there really aren't. Didn't say anything about flirting too,"
One could argue that the blank sign invites all sorts of interpretation, but of course, Wile E. Coyote doesn't comment on it or bring it up. He has the pride of multiple engineering and Masters degrees under his belt to ever, ever admit to that.
Paige though, as a young lawyer, has a lot more to say. "Though you are toons, you both are still a coyote and a road runner. Animals, biologically speaking—uh, er—that isn't offensive, isn't it?"
Wile shakes his head. Objectively correct. Nodding back, Paige pulls out her laptop to show them both an article that reads "Everything about Road Runners." How generic. Couldn't they have come up with a better title?
"It says here that road runners begin courting when a male starts to chase a female. They also offer gifts and food, and other materials that can be used for nesting; And I remember you were chasing him for 77 years, offering him birdseed, leaving trinkets…"
Kevin whistles, "Most couples don't even last that long. Really playing the long game, aren't ya?"
"Those were for traps!" he protests.
Paige continues to scan through the article, "Monogamous too. Oh wow,"
"Coyotes are monogamous too, right Wile?"
"Yes. That is besides that point. What we have is different."
Kevin rubs his chin, completely ignoring him, "Is Road Runner even a girl? Hm, I guess it doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things..But what do girl road runner toons even look like?"
Both of them turned to him, as if to say: 'Well, you live in the same place as him.'
Er, this was awkward. And a little bit embarrassing, too. Wile E. is at a loss for words. For all these years of chasing, Wile had never seen another toon road runner in the desert. Not that he was interested in seeking other prey, but he legitimately never saw another species the same as his bird. He knows there's gender differences in the hues of their feathers, but he just can't put his finger on it. What was that color? He only ever knows the mesmerizing marriage of blues and purples of his Road Runner.
Thinking like this gets him nowhere. So, he relents. The best method is to get the answer from the source himself. He bids his friends goodbye before returning home.
The next morning, he waits by around their usual starting spot. As much he loathes to admit it, Wile E. Coyote doesn't completely know everything about Beep Beep. He knows (theoretically) how he tastes like; knows how fast he can run, and what food he prefers to stop for. But biologically anything else, he may have overlooked it. A bit. A little. A tad. Just a smidge. And this bothers him immensely.
He did bring a book about toon road runners. Apparently males' feathers tend to run more dark blues, while females tend to have more dominant purples. His Roadie had both.
In perfect timing, the sound of the familiar beep echoed close. Wile jumps up to frantically hold a sign with squiggly writing that says: "WAIT. NEED TO ASK QUESTION!"
Beep Beep manages to stop by running one lap around him before stopping in front. He wore clear confusion on his face. But there was eagerness hidden behind it.
tap. tap. tap tap tap. tap. "One question?"
Wile signs, "Your feathers. I've noticed they aren't common. You have both colors." It was also incredibly beautiful, by the way.
A series of taps followed. "Oh. That. I'm male,"
"Mother is a full road runner. Father is a different kind of bird. A Gallinule." Roadie continues by sign this time. Instead of words, he shows a punett square? "Inherited his more vibrant purple plumage. Most road runners get confused when they see me. " Beep Beep's expression turned a bit melancholic at the mention.
Though he shakes it off as he flips the sign, "Also! I am too fast to be courted—got it from Mom. Suitors all give up easily. All except you <3!"
Oh. Oh. Wile frantically signs back, "Wait wait-WHAT?! NO! I am trying to EAT you!"
This doesn't seem to matter to the toon in front of him, as he merely shakes his whole being in a fit of soundless giggles, as if to say he knows. After a while, Beep Beep ceases laughing, and looks to the sand below. With his talon, he absentmindedly traces lines on the surface. He alternates between a small tap, and then back to drawing on the sand. Wile waits, that's all he can do right now. His mind is drawing blanks and he feels his face heat with embarrassment and mild anger.
He doesn't know what to say! Since what do you mean that Beep Beep thought he was courting him all this time? This changes everything! Suddenly, the context of their relationship has taken on a new meaning in a flash. Puzzles break to form new pictures; and everything simultaneously made sense and yet it didn't. What a conundrum!
" But.." Beep Beep continues tapping. "That's why I choose you. Because I am the only one for you. Just like you're the only one for me. And,"
His eyes darkened. "It is only me, right?"
the Road runner inches closer to him,"You want to eat only me?"
Wile's brain immediately says yes. Who else could compare to you? If it's not Beep Beep, then oxygen is also not needed. If it's not his bird, then this stomach is of no use to him. My supper, my oasis, my salvation. He chants repeatedly. I am your sole devourer, and your only devotee.
"No one else compares." is the promise he gives.
Roadie's beak forms a satisfied smile. He tiptoes closer and closer to the coyote, eventually his talons settles on his chest. Tap tap.. Tap, tap tap..
"I know."
Wile should NOT have found that incredibly hot. He's a hundred percent sure his face is burning red and two-hundred percent sure that whatever calm decorum he attempts to project is crumbling (or nonexistent in the first place.). Still, he can't help himself. His arms settle nicely around the bird's body, the delicate weight perfectly warms his lap while sharp talons continue to listlessly circle around his torso. "Your appetite should be saved for me. Not other prey, not other birds—"
"—and especially not that rabbit." He ends with pressing his beak against Wile's mouth; giving him the gentlest of kisses. Of course, he kisses back. It was the only logical (obvious) thing to do. After a few more exchanges, Roadie breaks their embrace by standing up, and already he misses the warmth. He chases, as always. Stands up too and presses his body against his prey.
"You're delicious," he says. "Sweet and decadent." Wile leans in, trying to get a taste of heaven again. But he’s greeted with air as his partner evaded his touch. Mischievous thing. He growls in discontentment; upset at the rejection. Beep Beep coos reassuringly at him, instead rubbing his head lovingly underneath his jaw. Wile E. Coyote cannot do anything but accept what he is given. Especially if it is from him.
His father would have gone mad if he saw his son now. Waxing poetry about his prey; uttering words of pure devotion as one might offer to a deity. Wile E. Coyote, is a genius, yes. However, geniuses will always seek anomalies and what is Roadie but an anomaly taking a comprehensive form of an avian? He is confident that even after decades of chasing, there was always something new to discover. Even as toons who can ignore the normal laws of the world, Wile and Beep Beep break its norms just for the thrill of their chase.
He is proud to say that the being in front of him is his raison d'etre. Maybe someday he’ll let his little bird know what he does to him. Maybe while he tears him apart limb from limb. I love you. You are mine. I adore you. You are the bane of my existence. I cannot exist without you. I loathe you. Look at only me. Don’t get caught by others. You are the only one who can satiate my hunger. Please only think of me. I love you. I love you.
Wile declares, “I will catch you. I will eat you.” And to renew this promise, he bites down on Roadie’s neck. Just enough to draw blood, just enough for him to feel the all too familiar arousal. He makes sure the bite is deep enough to leave a scar that won’t be healing for a long time. His Roadie lets him. “And no one else can have you once I’m done.”
Perhaps this is what ambrosia is supposed to taste like. He thinks as he laps up the fresh wound.
Beep Beep was not one to lose, he sunk his talons onto Wile’s wrist. A place he always looks at since he was always tinkering with inventions. Clever bird. He can feel it bleeding, just like he also feels a tongue licking the wound.
Tap. Tap. “Good.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow then,”