Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Have I played COD? No. If this is ooc, teehee oh well have fun. Wrote this in one go at 4 AM after being inspired by a Twitter post made by @balisonqs, and a comment thread they had with user @INKSL1NGER -my first post on AO3! I felt inspired by the idea of everyone's favorite Austrian giant, taking care of a tiny kitten. Any German is Google Translate. No proofreading I just had fun with this. Will continue with more additions, I just wanted to get this out first.

König stood in his office following his return from a mission, still clad in his tactical gear as he held the tiny ball of fur in his palm. It was so small - he couldn’t leave it. He wasn’t a heartless man, he did his job and did it well, but that didn’t make him emotionless. Cats, and pets in general weren’t allowed on base by operatives; without proper medical documentation. Sure, he was setting a terrible example by smuggling a kitten back from a mission - He was a colonel for god's sake! Although that being said, he was a colonel for god's sake. Could anyone really… stop him? It was worth trying, he thought to himself. It wasn’t like he could consider an alternative at the moment. The dirt-stained, wriggling creature mewling out as it peered around his office with its soft blue eyes; had writhed its way into the giants heart, and there it firmly stood, on its short, wobbly legs.
No one could come between him and this cat, so help the soul that dared try it. Not even the fact he didn’t know how to care for a cat, much less one this small, could stop him. He sat at his desk, resting the kitten against his chest and the protectiveness of his hand, keeping it warm and keeping it safe as his free hand to start researching. Typing out question by question in his quest to know what to do.
“ kitten care 101 “
“ how to tell cats age “
“ when do cats open their eyes “
“ why does my kittens tail stick straight up “
“ is my cat broken? Tail sticking straight up “
“ what is triangle tail kitten “
“ kitten formula near me “
“ is care for orange cats different than other colors “
“ why do people say orange cats share one brain cell “
His education at Google University came to a halt when the mass in his hand began to squirm again, peeking its head over Königs fingers. His chair squeaked in protest as he leaned back against it, cradling the kitten. Shushing it, akin to a human baby - surely they were comparable to a degree. “ Es ist in Ordnung, du bist in Ordnung. Das ist nicht nötig, ich hab dich “ (it's okay, you're alright. No need in that, I've got you ) he says, his nasally tone taking on a softness unheard of to most. Talking quietly, soothingly - as best he could, anyway. He felt so uncertain - Christ - had he made a mistake? Could he be a good pseudo-mother to this kitten? Gentleness was never his strong suit, and this tiny, tiny thing demanded the utmost care. It was like handling glass, furry, squirming glass. The orange mass continued to protest its situation, to Königs dismay. “Jetzt, jetzt. Was brauchst du? Hast du Hunger...? Müde? Vermisst du deine Mutter? Du armes Ding... " ( Now, now. What do you need? Are you hungry...? Tired? Do you miss your mother? You poor thing... " )
König felt a pang of guilt surge through him. No wonder this kitten seemed distressed - he just picked it up from some rubble and took it home, one minute they were presumably being taken care of by the mother cat, alongside its siblings - now, they were being held against some man's tactical vest. He looked for other cats before he left, but he hadn’t found anything; not a pawprint in the mud, no distinct mewling of kittens - it was all alone. The colonel cradled the kitten in his arms, petting its head with his finger - concern filling the mans gaze. It seemed smaller than the images online had, but its eyes were open, and it crawled around. 3 weeks old, he assumed. That was far too little to be alone, far too little to protect itself out in the open. He resumed his search online, desperate to find out everything and anything he could on how to best care for the little beast in his care. König the cat dad, who’d have thought? It certainly surprised him, but it did have a nice ring to it…

The first night came and went with a few hang-ups. He went to the store and picked up everything the clerk advised. Were they a vet? No, but they at least knew more than König, and that was enough for him. He was a soldier at heart, he could take orders when he needed to. Subsequently, he bought anything the employee said he may need. Formula, the tiniest baby bottles he’d ever seen, litter, litterbox, toys, flea comb, kitten dewormer - if the salesmen so much as looked at it, he bought it. He probably could have been persuaded to buy way more than he did, but luckily the employee didn’t think it best to trick the nearly 7-foot-tall soldier into anything. König had a difficult time navigating the base while keeping the kitten a secret, especially with how noisy it liked to be at times - his saving grace was that he figured out long ago if he had a stern look on his face and walked like he knew what he was doing, no one thought to question him. That must have been a sight to behold, an angry-looking man stomping around with a kitten in hand.
In his quarters, König set out to make a bottle for the kitten per the instructions on the box. He double-checked, and triple-checked, before testing the temperature on his hand and sitting down. Holding the kitten level, rest on his thigh as he held the nipple of the bottle to the kit. “ Bitte essen, Kleines. Ihr müsst so hungrig sein, bitte? Für mich? “ ( Please eat, little one. You must be so hungry, please? For me? ) He pleaded, in the same soft tone he’d adopted toward the kitten. He felt so nervous, what if the kitten wouldn’t eat? Would he have to feed them with a syringe? He got one just in case, but the idea seemed so scary to him. What would it be like for the kitten? Terrifying, he imagined. “ Bitte “ ( Please ), he begged. Nudging the squishy semi-translucent tip of the bottle nipple to their mouth.
His prayers were answered by the kitten quickly beginning to suckle, as König held the bottle steady. A grin lit up his expression, as an excited chuckle escapes his lips. The kitten was eating! With a healthy appetite at that. He was overjoyed, praising the kitten in his native tongue; the words falling on the kittens wriggling ears as it guzzled down the formula, only replying with the sounds of them eating. Regardless, he was over the moon - the precious sight in front of him reassuring him he made the right decision. He could do this, he could raise this kitten. He didn’t need to rehome them or find someone better equipped to take on their care instead. Of course, he could do it, he wasn’t even sure why he doubted himself to begin with. Cats do it, how hard could it be? He was practically a natural already. With a satisfied smirk, he checked his phone for what to do next; He needed to simulate grooming the kitten with a warm, damp cloth all over in short strokes like its mother would do. Alright, simple enough.
Now he just had to repeat every 4-6 hours. Simple enough, right? He could do that.

Chapter Text

König rearranged his schedule to accommodate the new addition in his life; moving around a few meetings, setting alarms on his phone, and taking a later lunch, but nothing major. He seemed to have this whole ‘ parenting ‘ deal under control. After a few days of constant worrying, he started to grow more confident in his abilities. He held the kitten in his hand, as he worked on setting up a cardboard box in his office to act as a little house when he worked. A heating pad set on low, a blanket, a few of these little mice toys he found at the pet store, a place fit for a king. A king of tiny proportions, at least. “ Los geht's, schön warm “ ( here we go, nice and warm ) he coos, checking the temperature of the bottom of the cushioned basin. “ Alles für Sie “ ( All for you ), he continued. Baby talk coming second nature to him now, it was hard not to talk that way to something so small.
He kneeled, placing the kitten inside with more care than he’d seen a few of the demolition experts at KorTac use when handling explosives. Watching attentively as the orange bundle felt around the soft, plush interior of the space made especially for them, right next to Königs desk. König lingered for a little bit, making sure they were comfortable before standing upright, taking an extra towel from the boxes construction and beginning to drape it over the top of the opening of the cardboard; to keep it insulated, hopefully quieter, and of course, hidden from the other operatives who may come in to see him. “ Nun, sei gut. Ich werde gleich hier sein, kein Grund zur Sorge." ( Now, be good. I'll be right here, no need to worry ), he reassured, as he gingerly tucked the cover over the top of the box. Sitting in his chair, and beginning his day. Endless amounts of paperwork, emails, and other mundane tasks that bored him to no end. Alas, they had to be done. Despite as much pride as he took in his position, the menial chores of being a colonel felt like pulling teeth. Forcing himself to endure it, getting it out of the way first in an attempt to try and lessen the monotony of his day early.
Finally, he got an alarm on his phone. It had been 5 hours, figuring if all the websites said to feed kittens between the ages of 3-4 weeks every 4-6 hours, 5 hours seemed the best way to navigate it. Standing up, he stretched out his back for a moment. The vertebrae cracked and popped satisfyingly as it relieved some of the tension growing in his joints before he crouched down by the box and pulled back the edge of the towel to peer inside. “ Katze? “ ( Cat ), he asked. Reaching a hand inside and stroking the kitten's head with his finger. They were already starting to crawl around and mewl, knowing the schedule by now and ready for their meal. Amazed at how the creature who no sooner than they opened their eyes, knew what time it was, scooping them up, but as his hand moved underneath their squirming body - he stopped in his tracks. The blanket wasn’t nearly as warm as it should be. Quickly, he checked the controls of the heating pad - it was powered off. He made sure he turned off the automatic timer setting, keeping it on a low and steady heat. Pressing the controls, to no avail. “ Na Scheiße “ ( Well shit ), he muttered to himself, cursing himself for not checking back sooner. The box was well insulated and still warm, but this wouldn’t do. Under no circumstances would he subject the little thing to freezing to death in his well-heated office. Holding the kitten close to his chest like the risk of hypothermia was a very real possibility, rising to his feet. Wracking his brain to think of a solution, he walked to the common room to heat some water to mix the formula in.
Same song and dance as the last few days, carrying the kitten with him, preparing the formula, before walking back to his office. Sure, he didn’t necessarily have to tote them around, but he hated the idea of leaving them alone. Even if for a few minutes, it made his heart ache. König was the only one the thing knew on base, who knows how lonely they would get if they awoke from their nearly constant slumber to being alone again, like when he found them to begin with. He wouldn’t have it. The tiny thing couldn’t defend themselves should anything find them in Königs absence, so he would protect it himself - from all the dangers lurking on base, in a highly guarded military facility.
By now, word had spread around König had a kitten - which was surprisingly better received than he anticipated. A few laughs, specifically the idea that he was a cat person deep down was found to be amusing to a lot of the people who knew him for his prowess in the field, before him as a person. He ignored it, instead focusing his effort onto his work, and on the cat - not in that particular order. Making the formula, as a few of the operatives gathered around to see the living proof some rumors floating around were true. He caught himself grinning behind the material of his sniperhood, as the kitten soaked up the attention people provided them. Saying how precious the kitten was, how they’d grow up to be a very large cat given the size of their paws - it was like coworkers crowding around a human baby, saying how they took after a certain parent more or that they’d grow up to do XYZ. He didn’t like the attention he felt quite the opposite, but for the cat? He would bear it. He could hardly blame his soldiers, the kitten was probably the cutest thing anyone, including him himself, had ever seen - although the colonel happened to be a bit biased.
Making it back to his office, he sits them on his lap and goes through the motions of making sure they eat. Having watched multiple tutorials by now on how to make sure he held the bottle at just the right angle, how to make the water just the right temperature for the formula, and eyeballing the correct amount for the exact ratio of formula to water - he had started to get it down to a science. He knew it like the back of his hand, even if he still looked up the instructions multiple times periodically just to make sure he was truly remembering it verbatim
. A notification on his phone tore his focus away for a moment, as he reached over his desk to grab it. He was expecting a text about an upcoming meeting he would need to be in attendance for, one he would have to arrange a cat sitter, possibly? To make it to, knowing they never quite stayed in the allotted time given; but pleasantly surprised to discover it was, to his surprise, the one person he told about his newfound parenthood to willingly - Horangi. A South Korean operator he’d grown to enjoy the company of.
He opened the message to see a link to a video, with an added

Hong-jin 🐯: [attached link] ‘ how you haven’t already done this is beyond me. When you do it I need pics, finders fee ‘

Confused, he opened the video he’d been sent. Horangi frequently teased his colonel's DIY projects, even if he himself was guilty of it too as he doodled on his ( and Königs ) gear with permanent markers. Occasionally the comments culminated in Horangi sending pestering him with absurd 5-minute crafts he came across; namely suggesting some atrocities made of hot glue, that seemed more like a waste of time than anything else.
Shockingly, this video seemed like something he would be interested in, especially while he mentally worked on getting the heating pad to work again. The video linked to him showed a woman taking a knit sock, cutting across the toe, snipping some armholes, and bam! A little cat-sized sweater. This was useful, for once. Pleasantly surprised, he looked at the orange fluff sitting in his lap, sucking away at their bottle. Gauging if the sock idea would work, with how pudgy the kitten got from not missing any more meals since living withKönig. Deciding it was worth a shot, he sought to work. Once the kitten was done eating, he opted to try it when he stopped by his quarters to prep some hot water bottles to put under the towels, as a temporary replacement for the busted heating pad. Rummaging his dresser for a lone sock. Knowing of at least a few he’d had looming around taking up space in the off chance the mate would somehow reappear. The first one he saw, he snatched up and got to work with a pair of scissors. Sitting the kitten on the bed as he sat next to them and snipped away.
Finally, it seemed Horangi came in clutch, as König admired his work. “ Oh, du wirst so süß aussehen! So gemütlich und warm, Sie werden es lieben “ ( Oh, you're going to look so sweet! So cozy and warm, you're going to love it ) He proclaims, as he looks at the kitten stumbling around on top of his duvet, König preemptively stretching the socks fabric in his hands before taking the kitten into his lap and slipping the makeshift sweater onto its little body. It was even cuter than he thought it would be. A wide, warm grin picks at the corners of his lips, laughing softly to himself at his handiwork. Lastly, of course making sure to take a few photos to send to Horangi, all while praising the kitten for how utterly precious they looked. Hopefully, this won’t lead to Hong-jin thinking all the craft ideas he finds online will pan out to be the next best thing like he falsely claims. Unfortunately, the addition of a few more sock sweaters only spurred many, many more cat-themed DIYs sent to his DMs, from a certain operative baring a feline-centered callsign.

Chapter Text

Around the 4-week mark, or at least when the Austrian presumed the kit had reached the milestone; given they had begun to develop their incisors - The colonel began to introduce gruel; a soft mixture of formula and wet cat food as instructed by endless online articles he’d scouered. The learning curve for the kitten moving to more solid meals was slow on the uphill, mostly accumulating in the kitten trekking through the low bowl König provided them. The kitten eventually understood that the mix was edible, through the man taking a dab of it on his finger, and holding it to the kitten's mouth. After multiple rounds, and letting them smell it for minutes on end, trying to coax the connection what they were looking at was food, they seemed to realize the slop was pretty tasty. After that? They were a fiend. He thought they had an appetite before? Oh, was he taken aback to discover that once the kitten grew coordinated to stumble around, they would prance around emitting high-pitched mewls in protest of not being fed exactly when they believed it was time. For such a small creature, they wailed like a siren.
“ why is my kitten always hungry”
“ am i accidentally starving my cat? they are always so hungry “
“ does my cat need to be fed more often “
“ cat yells for food between feedings “
“ is my kitten too loud?? “
“ cat cries like ambulance meaning “
“ is my cat unhappy “
“ orange cats eat same amount as other cats? “
“ do kitten growth spurts make them more hungry? “
“ am I accidentally making my cat too fat “
König google searched between meetings, worried he was accidentally mistreating the kitten he adored so much. Seemingly the behavior was normal, and that cats just made a big fuss over their feeding schedule. He wasn’t sure if this made him feel better or not, because what if his kitten was really starving? How would he know? He texted the only person he could think to ask, Hong-jin.
König : “ Hong-jin I need help “
König: “ The kitten will not stop yelling. I feed it and I feed it and it. Just yells. Like a little banshee “
König: “ Its actually kind of cute but im worried its broken :( “

A few minutes later he gets a message back.

Hong-jin🐯: “ What do you mean broken “

König: “ You know, like not operating like they should be. I’m worried it is defective. “
König: “Is it because it’s orange? “

Hong-jin🐯: “ You know, I don’t actually think that's the issue.”
Hong-jin🐯: “ Cats yell when they want food. The cat wants food, even if it doesn’t need it. Just keep feeding him like you have been and you’ll be fine “

König: “ So I have not broken it “

Hong-jin🐯: “No, youre good lol “

König: “ Wunderbar! Thank you “ ( wonderful )

Armed with the knowledge that the cat was simply just a little pig, he felt at ease. Looking down at the kitten running around the floor, bundled up in a little grey sweater he’d made them. “ Du kleiner Dicker, du wirst mich in diesem Tempo aus Haus und Hof fressen. “ ( You little fatty, you're going to eat me out of house and home at this rate. ) He laughs, shaking his head as he watches the kittens adorable antics. Leaning back in his chair, resting his cheek in the palm of his hand as he rests an elbow on his desk. “ Ach, ich könnte dir nie böse sein. Du bist viel zu süß, auch wenn du ein bisschen pummelig bist. Nur Babyspeck, ja? “ ( Ah, I could never be mad at you. You're far too cute, even if you are a bit chubby. Just baby fat, yeah? )

BING
Incoming text from Hong-jin

Hong-jin🐯: “ Did you ever decide on a name? “

He replies.

König: “ Yes! Katze :D “ ( Cat )

Hong-jin🐯: “ You named the cat, cat “

König: “ Ja, is something wrong with that? Thats what they are. They are cat, so they are called cat. Makes sense to me. “ ( Yeah )

Hong-jin🐯: “ Just seems so impersonal to me. C’mon, you can be way more creative than that. “

König: “ Ugh. Fine. I’ll think of a better name. “

Hong-jin🐯: “ Good “

König: “ I have decided on ‘ König Jr ‘ “

Hong-jin🐯: “ Why am I not surprised “

König: “ Its a good name! A strong, noble name. Fit for a king! Haha “
König: “ Or queen, I suppose. I’m not sure what they are to be honest “

Hong-jin🐯: “ Well, its orange “

König: “ Orange is not a gender, that is a color “

Hong-jin🐯: “ 맙소사, 어쩌다 대령이 되었나요? 용모? " ( good god how did you end up a colonel. Looks? )
Hong-jin🐯: “ No, almost all orange cats are male. Like how nearly all calicos are female. “

König: “That's true? I have a son? “
König: “ This isn’t like when you told me to tell the recruits ‘ now lets go clap some cheeks ‘ before a mission as a pep talk is it? They still laugh about that “

Hong-jin🐯: “ WE still laugh about it. But no, this one is actually true. You have a son. Welcome to fatherhood, King “

Chapter Text

It had been almost 2 weeks since König had brought back his fuzzy little stowaway from a mission, and things had been going quite well. He still googled all the issues that arose incessantly whenever something had gone array, especially in the last few nights when he noticed König Jr. had not been eating very well. Just the week prior, the growing boy had had a near-insatiable appetite, and while he had an affinity for naps, he had started sleeping much more than usual. Many sites and web articles attributed it to König Jr. just being a sleepy, tired kitten and thus needing more rest now that he had been eating regularly. Horangi even agreed, suggesting that it could be that now the kitten had realized he would not be missing any more meals, and was now catching up on sleep. That was the best-case scenario of course, as König had started looking into something called ‘fading kitten syndrome‘, and the very notion that that was a possibility terrified him. This kitten was his responsibility, König was the lifeline for the tiny thing. The idea of something like that happening made his stomach churn with dread. The illness in question happened around this age; from birth to weaning, when they were at their smallest and most vulnerable, and could prove fatal if not treated right away. He had another appointment with a vet scheduled for later that week, so he held off on going to the emergency clinic just yet, when he potentially could have just been overreacting. Regardless, he started to keep the kitten with him 24/7 again. Tucked in his jacket, against his chest, on his shoulder just underneath his sniper hood, on his lap, or occasionally in a makeshift basket on his desk fitted with a new, functioning heating pad and blankets - so if he did need to get up, he would not be disturbing them. Every sniffle, grunt, whine, stretch of the leg - he was there, ensuring the kitten was still doing well.
Overthinking was getting the better of him, as he mentally went through the list of all the causes of fading kitten syndrome and if they could apply to König Jr. Luckily, most did not seem to be candidates. The only ones he could not rule out definitively were if the kitten did not have maternal antibodies to help keep his immune system up, or that potentially the vet missed something upon first examination, and that there was a defect of some kind in his small anatomy, somewhere unnoticed. Alone in his office with the kitten, he called the vet again, just to be sure. They assured König that if the kitten had been eating well beforehand, and had been putting on weight as expected, then the likelihood of fading kitten syndrome was incredibly slim. König had been doing a very thorough job on raising the kitten thus far, and not to worry too much about it. The Colonel kept sugar water in his office and prepped ready to go in his quarters within easy reach should he ever feel the kitten was failing to thrive after all, since the vet and all the online articles said that was the best treatment.
The following afternoon, König’s office was filled with the sound of his pen scratching against the grain of document after document, as he filled out paperwork intended to be submitted later that evening. His boss had called him in for another meeting with one of the teams getting ready to ship out soon, a meeting he could not postpone again after the first two times he rescheduled them. He tried to think of what to do, given that he could not leave the kitten alone
- not when he was so worried about them. He thought about texting Hong-jin for last-minute daycare services - until he remembered it was a Tuesday, and that meant the man
was stuck in training and could unfortunately not come to his rescue this time. König sighed, looking at the kitten sleeping on his desk as he tried to think of a solution. The higher-ups in the meeting did not, and could not, know about König Jr. They would insist he take him to a shelter, and realistically that would be the less harsh outcome he could face. At worst, he could face demotion, and be stripped of his rank for the infraction. As much as he could not leave the kitten, he also could not put his job on the line - being a soldier was the only thing he knew, the only thing he felt remotely fit for doing, he had been doing it for almost 26 years now. He had sacrificed a lot in his life to get to his current position, he would be damned if he let some self-righteous, high-brow official deem him unfit for the role of Colonel because he had a personal matter to attend to in the form of raising a kitten. He cannot skip the meeting, and he cannot leave the kitten to fend for himself. There was only one logical solution; take the cat to the meeting, and not get caught. Easier said than done, of course. It was a bad idea, but what else was he to do? He was too worried about Jr. falling ill before he got back to leave him unattended, or in the incapable hands of someone he could find on short notice. He could trust his soldiers in combat, with his life in most aspects, but with the fragile life of an infantile cat? Absolutely not. Completely unfathomable. Out of the question.
König checked the time on his phone; he had 20 minutes to gather his paperwork and make it to the debriefing room in time for the meeting. Meaning, he had a very finite amount of time to weigh his options, on just how he would sneak the cat past a room full of people. He was a smart man, and he excelled working under pressure - so why was this so difficult? Why was he so nervous? Maybe it was because he did not have an exact plan, maybe it was the uncontrollable variables in the equation; who’s to say? All he knew for certain was that he could feel the apprehension fill his chest as he delicately scooped the sleepy kitten into his large palms, and tucked him securely on his shoulder just under his jaw, making sure they were secure and comfortable before adjusting the material of his hood over them. Out of sight, out of mind. He even zipped up his jacket to the collar for extra snugness, ensuring that even if the kitten wriggled or shifted around that he wouldn’t risk falling. Thankfully the solution seemed comfortable for both parties, because while the act of picking them up caused the sleepy thing to cry and root their velveteen chin against the skin of König’s palms; as soon as they were placed into the warmth and security of the iconic hood the Colonel had become associated with, he calmed down and simply snuggled in against the crook of König’s neck.
This would work, right? He wasn’t insane for trying this? He already knew the answer to that, there was no reason to speak the words into existence in the privacy of his workspace. Cautiously, he rose to his feet. It was awkward, trying to stand while not moving his shoulders whatsoever, even an inch. He managed it, although he knew it had to look as uncomfortable as he felt doing it. Just act natural, König reminded himself. If you act like you know what you're doing; no one will get suspicious of you. He learned that years ago when he first enlisted, his size - while coming with a laundry list of cons, did come with a few perks. Namely, that if he stood straight, and used his imposing figure to his benefit - he could command a sense of authority that went unquestioned by most. Even in the rigid confines of conformity that came with military enrollment, the act of how you presented yourself was key to achieving a sort of leadership that allowed you to get away with such things as having a kitten tucked away in your clothes because you refuse to let them out of your sight for however long a meeting would last. Grabbing his papers and tucking them away in a manilla folder, he set out to the briefing room with his favorite stowaway snuggled into his neck.
The meeting went overall without a hitch, so long as you ignore the multiple times the kitten tried to adjust how he was laying and König was forced to accommodate discreetly by folding his arms, shifting his shoulders, sitting painfully straight at all times, and confining himself uncomfortably to his chair all so the kitten would continue to remain undetected. A few times he cleared his throat if he heard the kitten grunt as he slept, masking the noise that was only present to himself given the noises proximity to his ear. The meeting adjourned far later than König wanted it to, he put on a good front, but the look of discomfort wasn’t masked quite enough as a few people during the meeting voiced their concerns over the Austrian’s behavior. He dismissed them, but one soldier spoke back up to him following the meetings adjournment when he observed König standing up in that same painfully awkward manner as before. Standing like he was recovering from some kind of back surgery, grabbing the arms of his chair, and getting his legs under him before slowly standing upright to his full height once more. “Colonel, are you sure you’re alright? You look…uncomfortable.”
König shifted his weight so he could turn around to the source of the voice, a Polish accent from a few chairs away. The voice belonged to one of the soldiers being sent on the mission the briefing in question was for; an operator wearing a non-snag ghillie suit hat on top of his head, and orange tactical glasses seated on the bridge of his nose. “Oh, Ja. I am fine, nothing to be worried about.” König insisted, gathering up his paperwork as he moved awkwardly, refusing to move his shoulders or bend over. Luckily, it was just him and the Pole, otherwise he would look far more suspicious. His answer did not seem to satiate the soldier's curiosity, as the subordinate took a few steps closer to him, and seemed to be genuinely concerned for König’s well-being. Damn, was König that bad at acting natural? “I don’t want to pry, so I won’t, just go to medbay and they’ll sort you out. I’ve been there, go now before it gets worse. You can’t get shit done if you are in that much pain. It’s nothing to be embarrassed over, MREs get me that way too.” The Pole said with sincere empathy, giving König a consoling pat on the arm. The Colonel was left thoroughly confused. The talking mop had caught onto the fact something was up, but was convinced his Colonel was…constipated? That was sweet, in a way; being concerned for his health and all, but König just wanted to leave and avoid drawing any more attention to himself by asking for clarification.
“Uh...Ja, Ja, I will get going then. Thanks for the advice, I appreciate it.” replied, as his anxiety started getting the better of him. The Pole just nodded in response,
giving him a reassuring thumbs up. The sniper hood hid more than the kitten on his shoulder, concealing the mortified look on König’s expression. The idea of your subordinate thinking you were constipated to the point you were moving like an injured old man was not cringe-worthy to Gromsko, but it was for him. König
Jr. was lucky he was so cute, and worth all the trouble König was going through for him. Who was he kidding, he’d put up with public embarrassment if it meant ensuring
that his adopted, four-legged son was better off. As König went to leave, the Pole gathered his things from the table and spoke once more. “It helps if you take fiber supplements, just ask for them when you get there. Trust me.” God, why did he have to keep talking. König did not even look over his shoulder toward the well-meaning operative, as he started the trek back to his office. “Ah, Ja, thanks. I’ll be sure to remember that.”

Later that evening, Horangi stopped by König’s quarters to check on him and Jr. after finishing for the day. Sitting on König’s couch, supervising the kitten in his lap as König Sr. made something to eat. “Nein! That was the weirdest part. I had no idea what he meant, it had to be about being constipated, right? What else could it be?” The Austrian questioned, calling out from the other room toward the Korean. “Sounds like it. Seriously, something’s always up with that guy’s stomach. He’s not quiet about it either, that’s for damn sure.” Hong-jin commented, scratching his index finger under the kitten’s chin gently. He had been deployed with Gromsko a few times, a separate Polish speaking operator kindly translating the memos that came in from Sobieslaw’s private frequency.
Swapping the topic at hand to another operative having IBS, Horangi asked about Jr. “Has he been eating any more than he did yesterday?” “Ja, he ate once I got home for the day. I think you were right, he was just tired.” That was good news, the kitten wasn’t sick after all. The best outcome possible. “You’re really taking to this whole ‘domestic’ thing. You know what they say about having kids, apparently that once you have one you want more? What do you think, Colonel? You want more cats?” Horangi teased, letting the kitten he was looking after play with his fingers. “Ah, Nein, I don’t think so. König Jr. is enough for me. Why do you ask? Worried I’ll become one of those old cat ladies or something?” König retorts, chuckling to himself in the kitchen as they spoke to one another through the open doorway. “Well, you are getting older…It’s not that crazy an idea.” Hong-jin remarked sarcastically, before being more genuine with his response. “No, apparently B-shift patrol is saying there’s a cat that roams around the west side of the base. Thought you might want König Jr. to have a sibling.”
König went quiet, turning the eye of the stove off and sitting the pan aside. “Oh, I see.” König thought it over, stepping into the doorway joining both rooms. Resting his palms on the top of the frame, and leaning his weight against it. “How do I know if I’m ready for more?” He asks, watching Horangi play with the kitten. Hong-jin shrugs, glancing up at König from under his eyelashes. “Does anyone ever really know? I hear most second kids aren’t planned anyways. They just sort of happen.” The Korean remarked, sarcastically. The subtle undertone being lost on König, who just nods understandingly. “That sounds right. Maybe I can take in another cat, just one more couldn’t hurt too much. Besides, what if Jr. gets lonely? I would be a bad father if I didn’t give him a sibling.” König thought out loud, sounding more and more like a parent to human children everyday, as he stood considering the possibility of more ‘kids’. “Can’t have Jr. being a spoiled only child. Why stop at 2, why not 3, or 7? What’s the limit here for you?” Hong-jin counters lightheartedly, to König’s amused frustration. The Austrian shaking his head in defeat, “I’m really glad you aren’t into anyone you could get pregnant. I’d honestly be worried about them, if that’s really how you feel. There’s a huge difference between 2, or 3, or 7 kids.”
Hong-jin rolled his eyes, holding up König Jr. in the palm of his hand. “If they were as cute Jr. over here? I’d gladly adopt. I could be on one of those reality shows, John and Kate plus 8 or 19 kids and counting. Something like that.” The idea was absurd, but the humor was there. “I think when it’s about animals it’s called hoarding, Hong-jin. You’ll end up on one of those shows alright. I think they have one about that, too.” König quipped, a wide grin behind the fabric of his hood giving way to a half-suppressed laugh. A smirk graced Horangi’s own lips behind his neck gaiter, bringing the kitten back down to his chest as he reclined against the couch. “Oh, so now you’ve decided to have a sense of humor, Colonel? It suits you.” Hong-jin scoffed, eyes crinkling at the corners as his face lit up with a more earnest smile. The wisecrack made König cackle nasally, dropping his arms from the doorway as he pushed himself back to his feet. Continuing their banter over his shoulder as he stepped back into the kitchen. “Ah, you know what they say. Fatherhood brings out the best in people - or, something like that. I don’t know, I’ve only been an uncle up to this point.”
König did not need another cat, he wasn’t even supposed to have the one he currently did. Regardless, the cat B-shift had been seeing could at least do with some food at night, right? It wouldn’t be a crime to make sure it was fed. Probably.

Chapter Text

In the following weeks, König had begun feeding the cat B-shift found running wild around part of the base late at night - and König Jr. was growing up to be big and strong, just like his adoptive father. Scraggly orange fur, fuzzy white paws disproportionately too-big-for-his-tiny-body, and the cutest amber eyes the world had ever been graced with. Just the sweetest little thing you ever did see.

The little guy was lucky he was so cute, because he was also growing up to be the most devious creature living on base.

König would always put up with his son's antics, even if it meant having to diligently watch his feet whenever he walked in his quarters - because the kitten liked to stalk and pounce onto his boots when he least expected it. Chewed shoe laces, stolen hair ties, plastic bottle toppers, and a small army of fuzzy toy mice were just his most recent victims besides König himself. The kitten had grown large enough the Austrian could ( reluctantly ) leave him in his quarters alone for the day, but even that was hard for him to do. Like a new mom going back to work post-maternity leave, he spent his shifts worried sick over if Jr. was lonely, if he ate something he shouldn’t have, if somehow, someway König had left a window open thus allowing him to run away. The last one was more of an exaggeration his mind brewed up, because he seldomly opened the windows to his apartment at all. The only one he even knew for certain opened was the one in the kitchen, which he had discovered out of necessity; following a very unfortunate incident involving a forgotten pan on the stove, and needing to crack the paint sealing the pane shut to air out the smoke.

On his lunch break, König stopped by his quarters instead of going to the mess hall like the other operatives. Figuring he could subside off a sandwich instead, and spend the half-hour not having to subject himself to the expected awkward pleasantries with other soldiers. His social battery was already running low, and now he had an excuse to eat by himself; since he was sharing the meal with König Jr. He unlocked the door, stepping into the living room his accommodations opened into. It was a meager set up, military lodgings were not luxurious by any means - but it was still nice enough that it was his sole residence, of which he now shared with a small roommate running amok somewhere inside of it. Jr. likely hid out in a corner, ready to pounce on König’s leg when he walked by. The silly thing always brought a smile to his face, he had that going for him at least.
Closing the door behind him, König pulled off his hood, shoving the hem into his pocket to put back on later. Making himself a quick meal in the kitchen, and sitting it aside so he could grab something for Jr. to eat as well. Having weaned the kitten off milk replacement entirely for a few weeks now, he was on a steady diet of soft kibble and wet food. Without a sighting of the tiny orange terror, König grabbed a small can from the pantry. Reading it, as he speaks out into the quiet of his apartment. “Du bekommst „Thunfischfest in Soße“, Kleines. Gute Sache, ja?” ( You're getting 'Tuna Feast in Gravy', little one. Good stuff, yeah? ) The Austrian offered, knowing food was the one sure way to coax the kitten out of whatever hiding place he’d found for himself. König closed the pantry door, going through the motions of walking to the cabinet containing the plates, grabbing a small saucer, and tapping the metal of the can onto the counter a few times before loudly popping it open.

It was all too predictable; König Jr. came running into the kitchen, yelling in high pitched mewls as he demanded to be fed. It brought a warm smile to the Colonel’s face, as he glanced down to the floor to witness the little laps the kitten was doing around him. “Geben Sie mir eine Sekunde, und Sie können die ganze Dose haben.” ( Give me a second, and you can have the whole can. ) He chuckled, tapping the small, pre-proportioned meal into the dish. Apparently, he just simply wasn’t moving fast enough for little Jr.’s liking, as surely if he didn’t eat in the next 30 seconds he was going to wither away. König’s reassurance was only met with more high-pitched demands, and two paws tapping on his calf as the kitten stood on his back legs as if to make sure the wailing was heard all the way up from where König’s ears were. It was too precious.

König was trying to shake the wet food from the can into the dish, as he started to feel little pin pricks and tugging against his pants leg. Mildly startled, he quickly looked down and was greeted to the sight of the kitten scaling up his leg; making it all the way to his hip still demanding to be fed. “Guter Gott, ich werde dich buchstäblich füttern. Beruhige dich, du wirst nicht verhungern. Habe ich dich jemals verhungern lassen, seit ich dich nach Hause gebracht habe?” ( Good god, I'm literally going to feed you. Calm down, you won't starve. Have I ever let you starve since I brought you home? ) He spoke, with a very playful sort of sternness that no one would remotely think was authentically authoritarian. He grabbed the kitten, detaching him from his side and sitting him back onto the floor. “Nein, die Antwort ist nein. Du armes süßes Ding, das hier drin einfach dahinsiecht. Erbärmlich.” ( No, the answer is no. You poor sweet thing, just wasting away in here. Pitiful. )
Before he could even stand back to his full height, the kitten was already climbing his leg again to get onto the counter and eat. He was determined, honestly if you didn’t know any better you’d think the giant was starving the little guy. He was even fed before König even left for his shift that morning; just something small admittedly, while he himself ate breakfast. There was no reason for the drastic measures, but now that Jr. realized he could climb König like a jungle gym there was no stopping him. “Verdammt, du kleiner Schleicher. Gut gut. Lass uns essen.” ( Damn, you little sneak. Fine, Fine. Let's eat. ) The Colonel relented, holding the kitten in his hand once he’d climbed back to his waist. Tossing the can into the recycling, and taking the kitten and the plate beside his kitchen table. Setting them down by his chair, as he took his seat and watched Jr. chow down for a moment, shaking his head in disbelief. It was cute, he thought about sending a video of it to Horangi since as the kitten was eating he was making these adorable grunts between bites he took, his little ears were even wriggling back and forth. For such a tiny thing he was almost aggressive with it, making little ‘omnomnomnom’ noises as he scarfed down the softened meal from the plate.

( Later that same evening )
Following the discovery that he could climb up things, König Jr. only became a bigger handful than König thought possible. Previously, the kitten slept in a bed by König’s dresser; just across from König at night. Being so little, König was worried Jr. would fall off the bed or worse, get squished under the Austrian in his sleep. It was a system that worked well, until Jr. decided otherwise. In the early hours of the morning, delirious with sleep the Colonel stirred as he felt a weird sensation by the side of his head. A tired hand reaching up, being met with a little mew in protest. Surprised, he started to wake up quickly; reaching for the lamp on his nightstand to shed some light onto the situation. The light flicked on, revealing König Jr. had climbed up the blanket and was cuddling the side of König’s face. The Colonel was at a momentary loss for words, confused on how the kitten got there before the realization set in. His little boy was growing up, he couldn’t even be mad about being woken up in the middle of the night.

König gently picked the kitten up, pulling the sheets off himself so he could stand up. Carrying Jr. back to his own bed, and tucking him back in. “Nein, nein, du bist noch zu klein. Ich könnte dich vernichten. Du hast keine Fähigkeiten zur Selbsterhaltung, oder?” ( No no, you are still too small. I could crush you. You have no self-preservation skills, do you? ) König chuckled, smoothing out the cowlick spiking up the fur on top of Jr.’s head forming a tiny orange mohawk. Making sure the kitten was nice and comfortable in his bed for the night instead. “Das ist okay. Du bist zu jung, um es besser zu wissen, ich kümmere mich darum. Mach dir keine Sorge.” ( That's okay. You are too young to know better, I'll take care of it. Don't worry. ) He reassured the sleepy little beast, before going back to bed himself. He wasn’t sure when, but sometime between then, and when his alarm went off - König Jr. was back in König’s bed, fast asleep, and having stolen half a pillow.