Call of Duty Oneshots

Two cats (John Price Imagine)

As you enter the pet store to grab some bird feed for your front porch hummingbird feeders, you find yourself drawn to the area near the adoption center. You heard the sound of soft mewing as you approached, and two feline faces peered out from a cage, their eyes reflecting a mixture of curiosity and wariness.

Reading the tag, you discovered that they were a girl and boy duo who had just arrived at the store yesterday. Found in a box outside, they looked a bit worse for wear, and the tag mentioned that they were the last ones left for adoption. Unable to resist the pull of compassion, you decided to get a closer look.

One of the cats, the more adventurous of the two, cautiously approached. You extended your hand through the bars, and the cat sniffed it curiously before rubbing the top of its head against your palm. A wave of affection swept over you as you felt the soft fur under your fingers.

The two kitties had tugged at your heartstrings, and you knew you couldn't leave them behind. Your excitement grew, and with a sense of purpose, you started looking for a store worker to inquire about the adoption process. The idea of providing a loving home for them made your trip to the pet store even more fulfilling than you had anticipated.

The front door creaked open, and you slipped inside with a cardboard box cradled carefully in your arms. John, engrossed in something on the TV, glanced your way as he heard the door but didn't pay it much mind until he saw you with the box.

"What's in the box?" curiosity etched on his face.

"Nothing," you replied with a sly smile, but just as you spoke, a soft meow emanated from the box. John raised an eyebrow, immediately skeptical.

"No, you didn't," he declared with a knowing look as the meows continued. You winced slightly, rubbing your stomach, and with a dramatic expression, "Ooo wow, must have been that food I ate earlier. I'm so gassy,"

The meows persisted, growing louder, and you paused. Caught in the act, you couldn't suppress your smile. John just shook his head, laughing at your attempt at secrecy. You kneeled down, letting them out of the box. They slowly peeked their heads out one after the other.

"You got two? love." You quickly picked one up, holding him up in front of John's face.

"Look how cute they are hun. This one is Chucky and that one is Tiff. It's short for Tiffany." He smiled seeing how excited you were.

As days passed, John's initial amusement turned into exasperation when he found himself facing the challenges that came with the new additions to the family. The first encounter was during a flea bath. Attempting to help, he found himself in a comical struggle as Chucky scratched him when he wriggled in his arms.

"You bloody spawn of the devil!" John exclaimed as he ran up his arm and scratched down his back. Losing his balance, he stumbled foward, ending up in the tub, now covered in cat hair.

You quickly put Tiff down, "Oh my god are you okay?" you helped him out of the tub and left to get a towel. He huffed, glaring at Chucky lick his paw on the bathroom counter as if nothing happened.

Nighttime snuggling became a distant memory as the cats took their positions on either side of you, leaving no room for John to join in. He would glare at them as they slept peacefully, snuggled and warm next to you, and all he could do was shake his head, muttering about "bloody spawns of the devil."

The next morning, as John stood in the kitchen, pouring coffee into a mug, he saw Chucky eyeing him from the counter. He scowled at him.

"You're like a rat, you know that?" he muttered, shooting a glare at him. "You think you can snuggle up next to my wife and kick me to the curb? You're a little devil spawn."

Your head peeked into the kitchen, eyebrows raised. "Did you say something?"

John casually took a step back from the cat, "No, love. Nothing at all." when you left he took a sip of his coffee glaring at Chucky who just slowly blinked at him.

One afternoon, during John's focused work, the duo darted through the house, leaving chaos in their wake as they knocked over his coffee mug. While John sighed in frustration, you got up chasing after them. Catching one of the troublemakers, you held him up to John's face.

"I'm sorry for spilling coffee on your paperwork, I promise it won't happen again," you voiced the imaginary apology on behalf of Chucky. John initially wore an unamused expression until you peeked your head from behind the feline, revealing an apologetic smile. The tension melted, and a reluctant grin spread across John's face.

In the days that followed, the cats, undeterred by John's attempts to shoo them away, found his legs to be irresistible scratching posts. Persistent and curious, they continued their mischief, extending their claws despite John's efforts to maintain a sense of composure.

On one particular night, as John lay on his back, Tiff decided to make herself comfortable. She stretched luxuriously before gracefully climbing onto his chest, kneading his stomach with her paws. After a few rounds of kneading, she curled into a ball, settling on his chest. John huffed out a sigh, feeling the weight of the feline on him. Her large, puffy tail occasionally swiped across his nose, prompting him to turn his head to the side. However, her tail still managed to find its way toward him, eliciting a sneeze or two and a touch of irritation to the otherwise peaceful night.

John couldn't deny the joy the cats brought to the household. John found himself growing attached to the mischievous pair. The initial resistance transformed into reluctant acceptance, and before long, he was reaching for them to scratch behind their ears and indulging them in their nightly cuddle sessions. The stray cats had not only found a home but had also carved out a special place in John's heart.