Wolf & Coyote Mercenary Services [Looney Tunes AU]

Episode 19: From His Stomach to His Heart

Up in the Grand Hotel penthouse, Wile, leaning against a crutch, stands before the glass wall, watching time pass by slowly. Though he can always sit back and watch television while his injuries heal, his restlessness prevents that luxury. Reflected in the glass, Duane is preparing dinner in the kitchen behind him. Even from this distance, he can smell a curious blend of meat and spices, drawing him to the kitchen island.

Now closer to the action, he witnesses for himself the extent of Duane's culinary skills. On the stovetop, he tends to several components of the meal: macaroni, lentils, beef strips, and seasoned tomato sauce. On the counter beside it, a rice cooker is plugged in and running. Lined up across the countertop space are bottles of vinegar and vegetable oil, along with various spices mixed into a small bowl. Boiling and draining the lentils and pasta, sautéeing the beef, and stirring the sauce, the amount of effort he puts into cooking surpasses anything that Wile could pull off alone. Though it does make him wonder just what the wolf is making.

In due time, everything is prepared. On each plate he sets out, Duane plops a large spoonful of rice, then layers it with macaroni, lentils, and beef, topping it off with the red sauce. He pours a glass of wine and serves it alongside the dish. "Bon appétit!"

Wile takes a bite of the carefully layered dish. Instantly, the inside of his mouth bursts with savory, flavorful goodness. "This is really good! I never thought you could cook this well."

Duane beams with pride. "A simple, but essential task for a guardian such as myself. If I can't provide a proper meal to those in need, I'll never live it down."

"You're oddly concerned about feeding others for someone who can't bother to feed himself."

Duane pouts. "It's not like I dislike food itself. It's just the act of eating that bothers me. But that's none of your business, anyway."

"I think it's every bit my business, as your friend," Wile retorts bluntly. "Don't you think a guardian should live up to their own standards and be a good example for those they're protecting?"

The fur on Duane's tail starts to spike with his rising temper, then slacks with a huff. "Fine! I'll play your little game." He grabs a plate and sits beside Wile. "Don't expect much of an appetite from me, though."

Wile resumes his dinner, speaking between morsels. "You say you're a guardian of some sort, and you know Wyatt and Herman well, so that must mean you're one of them, too. But you don't seem to have any god powers. Unless cooking is your strength, then–"

"For the record, I do have powers," Duane corrects him. "But they're difficult to demonstrate, and you'll lose your lunch if I show you."

The coyote gives a smug look. "Try me."

Looking around, Duane picks up the crutch. "I'll borrow this if you don't mind." Wile, puzzled but intrigued, watches with intent as the events unravel.

Duane closes his eyes, then opens them. His iris and sclera are clouded in swirls of blues and purples, glimmering like a small cosmos. He raises the crutch above his head, and his jaw snaps wide, unhinging to an unnatural degree. Duane proceeds to lower the crutch into his mouth. To the coyote's bafflement, there does not appear to be any distension in his throat or stomach, the object instead distorting in shape as it disappears down his gullet. Once the crutch is swallowed entirely, Duane's jaw snaps shut and he gulps loudly, reverting back to normal.

Suddenly, Duane starts retching, his stomach heaving as he tries to hold it back. He rushes over to the bathroom and slams the door shut. Once the worst has passed, he returns and slumps over the table.

Wile, stupefied by what he just saw, passes the glass to him. "What the hell was that?"

"My curse," Duane answered groggily. "For the record, your crutch is safe with me. I'll return it when I recover."