Call of Duty Oneshots by zoa!

Sharing an Earbud - Konig [N]

Your transfer to KorTac was a big one, having going from a basic military camp all the way across the globe to fight for your country. You had been there for a year now, but having no friends still. Nobody bothered to interact with you other than for work purposes or for training. You weren't sure what the issue was, whether you just looked unpleasing to talk to or your personality didn't shine as much as you thought it did. But either way, you worked best alone so it wasn't a bother. Only sometimes, you do wish you didn't have to eat food alone in the cafeteria...

The clock on your watch shows half two in the morning as you stand up from the bench in the gym, walking back over to the punching bag and getting ready, preparing to train for the night. Your fists collided with the bag over and over, with every punch landing forcing an exhale from the worn bag. It was all that was heard through the gym, through your mind. It was so loud in your ears that you didn't hear the opening of the doors, nor the closing of them, nor the man lingering over you clearing his throat. It took a shoulder tap to startle you, turning around and ceasing your attack on the bag.

The man who towered above you was your commander Konig, a tall Austrian man who was practically a human wall. The biggest of KorTac and the most powerful within force, strength and overall statistics. His face was covered with a makeshift hood, red marks being casted from the eye holes he had cut, showing piercing eyes which could slice anyone that they looked at. His head does not move, only eyes look down on you as if he were to act arrogantly; as if he were showing that he was more powerful and that there was no point even training in the first place. He then began to speak, it filling the room.

"What are you doing here? It's very late." he asks, a strong, Austrian accent being audible from his pronounciation of certain words. It always made you curious where he was directly from, his accent sounded nice off of his tongue. It was one that nobody could replicate for mockery - partially because they would end up with a face covered with black and blue if they tried. His stance changes to one more comfortable, one more calm than just standing over you to try to not threaten you. Your eyes relax once seeing this and you turn your body fully towards him.

"Just training. I'm not tired." you reply, putting your hands in your pockets. Your face is red and sweat drops drip from your forehead and temples, your mouth agape and slightly panting. Your chest rises and falls heavily to show your tiredness, but your voice and face prove otherwise.

He hums, nodding slightly and squinting his eyes. You see his pupils trace you, watching your chest rise and fall, seeing the sweat roll from your head, looking at how you are standing, how your mouth moves as you talk to him. He moves, walking to the punching bag next to you. Your eyes follow him, forgetting about your training. You wanted to see how he trained. How this military machine fought the poor, innocent punching bag. You were curious on what he would do, how he would attack.

He clicks his neck slightly and shakes his shoulders back, doing slight preperations to begin training. Then, it begins.

His fists ripple off of the punching bag making it shockwave, his arms seem to not be moving at all. It was as if the bag were possessed and floating away from the brute in utter fear of getting in his way. A few small grunts could be heard from the man but nothing more, he was silent and completely executed whatever target he had in his mind to act so violently towards the bag. Swift swings zipped through the air, brutally destroying the sponge wrapped in a red layer, it being the only defense against Konig.

He finished fast. His eyes shot to you as he halted his movements, catching you by surprise. He knew you were watching, lips parted in fascination at his movements. He knew how amazed, how shocked you were. His body turned to you and his arms folded relaxingly, to rest his arms for a split second.

"Your turn." he stated, gesturing a nod towards the bag. He did see you as he walked in, but now he wanted to see you up close. He wanted to watch you the same way you watched him. You nodded, getting your earphones out of their case and putting one in your ear. Before you put the other in, a hand is placed on your shoulder. You look up, seeing his cocked head.

"What's that?" he asks.

"Earphones. Music does me good."

"May I?"

Your eyebrows raise. You've never shared earphones with anyone, now with your commander asking for one you could not say no. So, you give him the other. He holds it and puts it in his ear, unsure of what you're planning to play. You then grab your phone and scroll on your playlist, looking for a good song to play. Your thumb lands on the song Rein raus by Rammstein and you press play, rolling your shoulder back and beginning as soon as the guitars begin.

Konig's eyes widen. Not only does he know this song, but lyric for lyric. His attention is focused on you and only you, managing to punch twice every drum pulse, keeping up with the rhythm so coordinatedly it looks like a staged performance. He watches you with fascination, tapping his foot to the lyrics. He wasn't even focusing on your position or your stature throughout your session but how you worked to the song. How you were like a machine, just like him; all it needed was a beat and you were off.

The song comes to a finish, you had a pink, hot face and your arms immediately dropped to your sides as you took a slow walk to sit down once more. Your chest rose and fell, taking any oxygen the air gives you. He took a seat beside you, filling up the rest of the bench due to his sheer size.

"Never knew you liked German songs." he states, your eyes looking up with his already looking at you. They're creased, meaning he's grinning.

"Yeah, not too bad, you know what this song means?" you inquire with a light chuckle, a smile spreading across your lips.

"Of course, is my accent not thick enough to notice my origin?" He answers, his head rolling back, letting out a loud laugh. "Y/N, right?"

"That's me, sir." His laugh only makes you lightly giggle as well.

"I've never gotten the opportunity to know you personally. Let's get lunch together tomorrow, ja?" he asks, friendliness covers his words which only brings your smile wider. He offers his hand for you to shake.

"Perfect." you reply, sitting up properly and you shake his hand, a firm grip he had indeed.

You give your phone to Konig to let him choose the next song, which he chooses a song by the same band, named Sonne. However, neither of you get up to begin any sort of training session. So, you sit there and listen to the song with him, both humming the lyrics and bopping your heads, tapping your feet and sharing smiles and eye contacts - a new bond. One that won't break.