Way Down We Go//Hans Gruber x Reader

Chapter 4

That wasn't the last time you'd share a bed with him. Over the next two weeks, he got quite comfortable settled into your home and the two of you slept quite peacefully beside one another. You liked to think of the pair of you were friends, though neither of you truly knew anything about the other person. 

One morning, you awoke to the man's arm draped around your waist, his face pressed into your shoulder blade. With a soft sigh, you laced your fingers with his and leaned into his touch. "Good morning."

He answered you with a slight huff, nuzzling closer to you. You gave his hand a gentle squeeze before letting go of him, making him whine in displeasure. Over the past couple of weeks, you had learned of his temperament and his unpredictable moods. You didn't mind when he was fussy, especially when he seemed so needy for your care and affection. 

"No need to whine, I'm still here," you teased, turning to face him. Your eyes studied the details of his face closely, trying to remember how bad the bruising had been the night you met him. "How does your nose feel?"

"Cold," he huffed.

"That's not what I meant. Does it feel better?"

He nodded, his eyes still closed as he desperately tried to keep himself asleep no thanks to you. "Doesn't bother me anymore."

"Good, then this won't hurt-" you leaned forward and placed a soft kiss to the bridge of his nose, startling him completely awake.

"What was that for?" He grumbled, blinking his hazel eyes open to look at you. "What are you kissing me for?"

"I didn't kiss you, I kissed your nose."

"Don't be cheeky, it's not clever!"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," you sighed, your eyes locking with his. "I just figured since we've gotten so close this past week-"

"Close? I hardly consider us close," he countered, his voice still rough and husky from sleep. 

"We sleep in the same bed every night."

"That's because your couch is a blasted nightmare. And you won't take your Christmas tree down, it looks like a gift shop in there," he fussed.

"A gift shop? You're reaching a bit far, Harry."

He visibly cringed when you called him that and your smile faded.

"I'm sorry, should I not call you that?" You asked, gently reaching out to brush a strand of hair from his face. This time he didn't shy away from your touch.

"Can you call me something else? Anything else?" He didn't have the heart to tell you he had lied about his name, and he couldn't tell you his name was Hans if he wanted to remain off the radar. The FBI thought he was dead, and that's how he intended to keep it. "You're not above pet names, are you? You're affectionate enough."

"Thank you-"

"What makes you think that was a compliment?" He teased. He finally pushed your hand away from his face and looked into your eyes. There was something about you that made him want to tell you everything. But he couldn't. 

"I'll think of a name for you, don't worry."

He rolled his eyes before stretching out onto his back, closing his eyes once more. "I will sleep while you do that."