Mr.Grumpy (2)

Tysm for all your love on previous chapter, i glad you like that. 🤭💗

(edit : yeh main pahle se likh rakha tha khikhikhi💅)

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Ishan was on a mission.

After weeks of teasing, flirting, and borderline harassment (all in good spirit, of course).

He had cracked exactly one reaction out of Shubman mild surprise.

It wasn’t enough.

He wanted to see Mr. Perfect laugh.

A real, genuine, “I am enjoying life” laugh.

And he wouldn’t rest until he succeeded.

So, he planned.

Step 1: The Stupid Joke Approach.

_

Ishan walk  into the gym where Shubman was working out, dressed in his usual all-black workout gear.

His sleeves were rolled up, veins on display, and his entire aura screamed deadly serious professional.

Ishan, in contrast, was wearing a panda-print T-shirt and sliders.

Ishan : Gill, why don’t skeletons fight each other?

he asked, hopping onto the treadmill next to him.

Shubman : don't know.

Ishan : Because they don’t have the guts.

Silence.

Shubman continued lifting weights like Ishan hadn’t spoken.

Ishan : Oye, at least roll your eyes! Kuch toh react karo

Shubman put the weights down, looked at him, and deadpanned,

Shubman : I regret everything.

(Step 1: Total failure.)

Step 2: The Dramatic Fall.

_

Later that day, Ishan walked beside Shubman as they headed to the car.

WITHOUT warning, he clutched his chest and stumbled dramatically.

Shubman instantly reached for him.

Shubman : what happened?

Ishan : Mr. Gill… I think… I think I’m dying.

Shubman : Where? What hurts?

Ishan : Your lack of reaction is killing me.

Shubman stared at him. Then, with complete seriousness, said,

Shubman : If you were actually dying, I’d let you.

Ishan : Cold-hearted beast.

(Step 2: Backfired.)

Step 3: The Ultimate Weapon—Tickling.

_

Late at night, after yet another event where Shubman was his usual gentlemanly, brooding self, Ishan decided enough was enough.

Ishan : Mr. Gill

Ishan : I have tried everything to make you laugh. Sab kuch.

Shubman : And?

Ishan : And now, I will take desperate measures.

Before Shubman could react, Ishan lunged, fingers of doom attacking his ribs.

Shubman : Ishan—stop.

Ishan : Acha? Abhi toh maine start kiya hai.

He doubled his efforts, hands darting across Shubman’s sides.

The normally cold and composed bodyguard actually twitched, jaw tightening as he tried to move away.

Ishan : Oh my God, Mr. Perfect is ticklish!

Shubman grabbed both of Ishan’s wrists in one swift motion, his grip firm.

Shubman : You have three seconds to run.

Ishan gulped.

And then bolted.

Shubman sighed. But there was the faintest ghost of a smile on his lips.

Step 3: Success (Kind of).-

One fine afternoon, Ishan and Shubman were at a charity gala.

Everything was going fine... until some guy decided to get too friendly with Ishan.

Shubman was standing a few steps away, silently watching as Ishan laughed at some terrible pickup line.

The man leaned in a little closer, and Ishan, ever the sunshine boy, didn’t immediately move away.

Shubman clenched his jaw.

Ishan was oblivious... until Shubman appeared beside him, expression blank but presence intense.

Shubman : Sir, we’re leaving

Ishan : huh but-

Shubman placed a firm hand on his lower back and guided him away.

The guy opened his mouth to protest, but one sharp glare from Shubman had him closing it immediately.

Once outside, Ishan smirked.

Ishan : Oho, Mr. Gill. Was that jealousy I sensed?

Shubman didn’t answer, opening the car door for him.

Ishan : It was, wasn’t it? Mera grumpy bodyguard possessive hai.

Shubman shut the door with a little more force than necessary.

Ishan leaned against the window, smirking. Interesting.

At night

After a long day, Ishan was curled up on the couch, exhausted.

He was mid-sentence, teasing Shubman as usual, when he yawned.

Seconds later, his head dropped onto Shubman’s shoulder.

Shubman froze.

He glanced down, finding Ishan completely knocked out, breathing softly.

His ridiculously cute hoodie was  oversized, making him look smaller.

Shubman sighed, adjusting his position so Ishan wouldn’t be uncomfortable.

Minutes passed.

Then, almost too soft to hear, he murmured

“Troublemaker.”

Ishan, still half-asleep, hummed.

“Mr. Perfect…”

And just like that, Shubman knew he was doomed.

Next day

Ishan had one fatal flaw - he never took care of himself.

So, when he woke up with a fever, he still tried to act normal.

His body ached, his head felt heavy, and yet, he strolled into the living room, pretending everything was fine.

Shubman, of course, wasn’t fooled for a second.

Shubman : You look like you got hit by a truck

Ishan : Thanks, Mr. Gill. What a lovely thing to say to a sick person.

Shubman : you're sick?

Ishan : Nope. Absolutely not. I am the picture of health.

And then, because the universe loved proving him wrong

he sneezed.

Shubman : bed now.

Ishan : ugh you're no fun.

Ten minutes later, he was bundled up under a blanket while Shubman placed a cool cloth on his forehead.

Ishan : Look at you, Mr. Perfect. Taking care of me like a true gentleman.”

Shubman ignored him, adjusting the blanket.

Shubman : If you weren’t sick, I’d throw you out of the window.

Ishan : Violent. But romantic in a Shubman way.

Shubman : Go to sleep

Ishan : stay.

Shubman hesitated.

But then, with a resigned sigh, he sat on the chair beside the bed.

And even though Ishan was half-asleep, he still managed to whisper,

Ishan : Aww, you like me.

Shubman shook his head. "Troublemaker"

Days passed.

It started as a simple dinner.

Ishan had dragged Shubman out, claiming he was bored and needed “fun in his life.”

Shubman, being the responsible one, had insisted on a quiet restaurant.

The waiter however had different ideas.

Waiter : Sir, would you like the couple’s special tonight?

Shubman stiffened. Ishan, on the other hand—

“YES”

"no"

Ishan : Come on, Mr. Gill. Live a little.

Waiter : One couple’s special, coming up.

Shubman : I hate you.

Ishan :No, you don’t.

Halfway through the meal, when the waiter brought out a shared dessert with two spoons, Ishan wiggled his eyebrows.

Ishan : Romantic, isn’t it?

Shubman picked up his spoon and very aggressively scooped from the opposite side.

Ishan : So much aggression, Mr. Gill. Relax.

Shubman didn’t reply.

But later that night, when Ishan caught him glancing at him just a little too long, he knew—

Mr. Perfect was definitely falling.