Chapter Text
On a cool spring morning, the congregation of the Holy Grace Lutheran Church filed out after Reverend Bock finished his sermon. Lars hung back until Mrs. Gruner passed by his pew. He knew it was her week to bring the chapel flowers to the hospital.
“I can help with these,” Lars murmured to her as he picked up the basket from the table.
It had become a routine for the two on weeks like these. Lars would follow the older woman out to the parking lot while she talked to him about what was happening in her life, whether it be how she was tending to her garden or drama in her knitting circle. When they got to her car, Mrs. Gruner unlocked her trunk and popped it open. A plastic bag from the pet store caught Lars’ attention. It looked like there were a couple small cans and soft toys inside, along with a bag of treats. He eyed it as he lowered the basket into the empty spot.
“Did you get a new pet, Mrs. Gruner?” Lars asked softly, gesturing toward the bag.
“Oh, no. I found a litter of kittens and their mother hiding in my asters.” She pulled the trunk hatch down, being careful not to crush the flowers in the process. “What do you say you foster one? Just until we find someone to take them. It would be good for you.”
Lars shifted from foot to foot hesitantly. It had been a long time since he had a pet. Plus, he’d never fostered before. Although, having a kitten around would certainly make the garage feel less lonely. He chewed gently on his bottom lip until he realized the older woman was staring at him for an answer.
“Yeah… Yeah, that would be nice. Thank you.” He paused, then added. “Can I pick one up next weekend?”
“Absolutely, dear.”
He gave her a smile that disappeared under his mustache, and watched her leave the parking lot.
-
Over the course of the next week, Lars felt like he spent more time preparing for the kitten than anything else. He was frequently looking over his shoulder at work to make sure a supervisor didn’t catch him reading pet care blogs instead of actually working. Unfortunately for Lars, he was never quite as subtle as he hoped.
“Lars, what could you possibly be looking at?” Kurt snapped. He was fed up seeing him act so shifty in his peripheral view.
“Nothing- It’s nothing.” Lars rushed to close out the tab about the best wet food for kittens and switch to the email he needed to respond to. He rolled his chair over into Lars’ cubicle, much to his chagrin.
“Let me see! It must be something really dirty if you’re trying so hard to hide it.” Kurt bullied his way into the other man’s space, knowing he wouldn’t fight back. Sure, Lars had made progress with Dr. Berman on his touch aversion, but some contact could still take a lot out of him. So, he pushed himself back as Kurt pressed a few keys which opened his last tab back up. Lars watched his excitement fade as he read the first couple sentences and quickly realized it was nothing remotely perverse. “Lame,” he scoffed. “You’re reading about the wrong type of pussy, if you ask me.”
Lars flushed all the way up to the tips of his ears at the remark; he wondered distantly how Kurt had never had a talking to with HR. The scrawny man returned to his own cubicle, but knocked his knee on the way back. Lars felt a little better seeing Kurt get a portion of the karma he deserved.
-
When the following Sunday came, Lars almost couldn’t contain the nervous excitement inside of himself. He’d already gotten every necessity the kitten would need that he could think of: a variety of wet food, two small porcelain dishes, a litterbox, a plush bed, a brush, and almost every toy that the pet store carried for cats. After church let out, Mrs. Gruner told Lars to follow her home in his car, and he’d practically ran to the end of the parking lot.
At her house, which always smelled like fresh home cooking, she’d set up a pen for the kittens to roam in. “Take your pick.” She waved Lars over to the pen. Lars crouched at the side to watch how they all behaved. He knew he wouldn’t be keeping it permanently, but it only seemed right to pick one that called to him. Most of the kittens were tuxedos like their mother was, with the exception of a few that were all black. Lars wrung his hands together with indecision, until one kitten in particular caught his eye. He hadn’t noticed it at first since it was curled up in the corner of the bed napping. It was smaller than the rest too. He reached toward the sleeping kitten, then pulled back slightly.
“Can I pick it up?”
“Of course! Just be careful with the little one; she’s the runt of the litter.”
Lars nodded and followed through with his reach. He scooped the kitten up gingerly, to which she mewled in protest of being pulled from the warmth of her bed. The sound made Lars’ heart ache. Had he already done something wrong? He looked to Mrs. Gruner with panicked eyes. “I’m sorry. I don’t think she likes me very much.” He moved to return the kitten from where he’d taken her from, but Mrs. Gruner guided him to hold the wriggling ball of fuzz closer instead. When she felt the baby blanket wrapped around Lars’ neck like a scarf, she nestled against it and settled into his hands.
“Oh.” He let out a breath.
“She just needed a little comfort, see?”
Lars nodded again and slowly smoothed his fingertips over the kitten’s back. He had read so much on the internet about caring for and fostering a kitten, but now that it was actually happening, he felt woefully unprepared. What if he wasn’t actually cut out for this? He could forget to feed her, or leave his front door open and not notice her slip out, or, god forbid, accidentally hurt her. Lars opened his mouth to take back his agreement. He would return the supplies he bought, cancel his time off request, and let someone else better than him take care of the precious thing in his hands.
“You’ll take great care of her. You’re a good boy, Lars.” Mrs. Gruner spoke before he could. He swore at times that she could read his mind.
“Okay. Thank you again,” he mumbled, walking back to the door. He nearly ran into the doorframe because he was too busy staring down at the kitten. He managed to get to his car without stumbling over his feet, only to then realize his own oversight: where would he put her for the drive home? He hadn’t thought to buy a carrier, and the bed he bought was sitting in the garage. Lars looked around in his car for something that would be more secure for the kitten than simply sitting on his lap or the passenger seat all loose. A cardboard box sat in the floor of his backseat. It was a good size, but it couldn’t be very comfortable for her, could it? He glanced down at the kitten again to see her still snuggled into his blanket as content as could be. There was an idea.
It took a couple moments of unwrapping the blanket from his neck and maneuvering slowly enough to not bother her, but Lars eventually got the kitten into the box with the soft blue yarn cushioning her. He clipped the box in with the seatbelt on the passenger seat, and made the journey home.