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.