Way Down We Go//Hans Gruber x Reader

Chapter 3

Unsurprisingly, you did not sleep well with the strange man in the next room on your sofa. You tossed and turned in bed until it was almost light outside, and by the time you finally started drifting in and out of sleep, your cat was meowing for her morning breakfast. You groaned and threw your blankets and sheet off of you, sitting up as you glared daggers at your cat.

“You couldn’t wait til sunrise?” 

The grey tabby blinked up at you with her large green eyes, pawing at the corner of your plush quilt. After a moment of debating whether or not you could sleep for at least an hour, you finally rolled out of bed and stretched. As you unlocked and opened your bedroom door, you heard the faint sound of sniffling and you froze. Was the man crying?

Hans had attempted to lay down on your couch, but his body had hurt terribly and he resigned to sitting upright through the entire night. Unable to sleep, he was plagued with self deprecating thoughts. This was his fault. Somehow the failure of the heist had been his fault. How could he be so careless? He had been so close, and yet he had failed. Not to mention he had left all the money in the building and hadn’t managed to get away with any of it. 

It was all so overwhelming and it was enough to send him into a frenzy. His shaking fingers tugged at his golden brown hair, his eyes squeezed shut as he tried desperately to get an adequate amount of air into his lungs. He was so angry with himself, so utterly disappointed, but most importantly he was absolutely exhausted. No one had ever seen him in this state before, but he was no stranger to the heaviness in his chest and the burning in his throat as he got himself worked up.

He didn’t notice you in the hallway, your footsteps soft and quiet as you listened to him mutter something to himself in German. You felt guilty watching him so you cleared your throat and gave him a moment to compose himself before getting any closer. As you came into the room, you saw that his eyes were red and puffy and the bruise on his nose had become much darker than it was before you went to bed. You couldn’t help but pity him, and it certainly didn’t help that the clothes you had given him were two sizes too large and he looked practically swallowed up by flannel. To you he seemed as harmless as a small child.

“Did you sleep?” you asked, sitting beside him on the sofa. Your cat meowed in protest, standing in the doorway of your small kitchen. 

“No,” he gruffed, wiping his eyes dry with the sleeve of the flannel you had given him. 

“Neither did I.” 

He looked up at you for a moment before turning his gaze away shamefully. “I couldn’t lie down,” he admitted, making your heart twist with guilt. “Hurt too much to move like that.”

You thought for a moment before standing and carefully placing your arms under his. “Come on,” you sighed, helping him stand. He groaned in pain, resisting you even as you pulled him away from the couch. “I know it hurts, but you’re the one who didn’t want to go to the hospital, remember?”

The man let out a defeated grunt and put all his weight on you, limping as you pulled him down the hallway. “Are you throwing me out already?” he asked.

“No, I’m putting you to bed. It’s Christmas and you’re injured and neither of us have slept-”

“You don’t even know me,” he countered. “You must be insane to let me in your bed. You don’t know anything about me and I don’t know anything about you.”

“I know we’re both exhausted.”

“So you’re getting in bed with me?” he scoffed incredulously. 

“Well I was going to take the couch, seeing as you’re in too much pain to lay on my sofa I thought you could have the bed and I could have the couch, but if you feel more comfortable with me staying…”

You nudged open the bedroom door with your foot, carefully pulling him in and lowering him down onto the bed. Your bed was your favorite thing about your house; it was plush and soft, the mattress and the pillows both memory foam. Your sheets were a light pink cotton and you had several soft blankets and your favorite quilt. As soon as he sank into the mattress, he let out a soft sigh of relief, his eyes fluttering closed and his lips moving to whisper something in German.

“Better?” 

“Much,” he sighed, stretching his legs out as you pulled the blankets up over him. He felt pampered, which was something he needed after the long night and near death experience he had gone through. With how exhausted he felt, your bed was just as much of a Christmas miracle as six hundred million dollars would have been. He visibly cringed at the memory of the bearer bonds but relaxed once again when he felt your cat jump up on the bed next to him. 

You were about to turn and leave but he caught your wrist, his grip surprisingly firm for someone in his condition. “Do you need something else?”

His eyes opened to gaze up at you, his expression soft. “Thank you. You could have left me on the side of the street and who knows where I would be now-” probably prison. “Your kindness is admirable, truly. I won’t use your generosity against you.”

You narrowed your eyes, your brows furrowed in confusion. “And how would you hold it against me?”

“Well...I could kill you.”

You didn’t mean to laugh but you couldn’t stop yourself, the noise bubbling up your throat and spilling out your lips before you could stop it. “Right, then, you know where I’ll be if you change your mind. We’ll see how long it takes you to get from here to the sofa and if I can fight you off or not.” 

His lips twitched into a smirk at your challenging tone, his hand squeezing your wrist ever so slightly. “Why don’t you stay? We can both get some sleep.” 

You took in a deep breath and thought for a moment before nodding and carefully slipping into bed next to him, pushing your feet under the covers. “Doesn’t this make it easier for you to kill me?”

“I’m not going to kill you. Not yet at least.”