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.