König was proud of you, and how far you'd come in your job. You were gorgeous, deadly and fierce and beautiful even when you were covered in blood and grime. But he despised the way the two of you couldn't be openly affectionate while on missions or on base. Granted, you didn't work with him much since medical assistance wasn't needed most of the time, but still.

He wasn't jealous, he was confident in your love for him. He was entirely devoted to you, and you wore your ring proudly. But hated that he couldn't squeeze you or snuggle with you while he was working with you. If you were near him, he wanted to be touching you. He wanted to hear you whisper the sweet words to him that had made him fall in love with you.

He just wanted some damn attention.

He scowled at the soldier beside you, blue eyes practically piercing through the man as he talked to you. König couldn't remember the soldier's name, something like Daniels? Danvers, maybe? Didn't matter. He hated him, whatever his name was.

König wanted to be next to you, hand on your thigh, with you nestled against his side. He wanted to kiss you, wanted to take this fucking sweaty hood off. He wanted your hands running through his hair and your sweet praise in his ear. Fuck this mission.

He lasted three days.

But the fourth day, he couldn't stand it anymore. he hadn't slept since the mission had started, the stupid sleeping bag was too small and the ground was hard and cold. He'd staked his tent next to yours, and the minute everyone else was asleep, was dragging his pack into your tent and zipping it up behind him.

"I cannot fucking handle this anymore, meine Frau." He hissed, his accent thick as he crouched beside you, ripping his hood off to reveal his pouting face.

"This has been torturous, Schatz." He grumbled, tucking his legs into his sleeping bag and face-planting into your stomach. He didn't care about appearances, or what he was supposed to be hiding.

"Ich kann es nicht ertragen, dich nicht zu berühren." He mumbled into your shirt.