A/N: Nothing but pure, happy fluff! Maybe Sumo's optimism in that last episode rubbed off on me, but I suddenly got this idea into my head and had to write it out. Takes place somewhere in the midst of ShraMan's (future) happy, married life, which I know we're all anxiously waiting for.
ShraMan OS | The Lawyer's Wife
You'd think, Suman Malhotra thought irritably as she drove her car down the busy highway, an Oxford graduate and successful lawyer who could remember the tiniest, most seemingly insignificant of details during a case, would remember to take his lunch with him to work.
But, no. Shravan had dropped a careless kiss on her head before leaving for work and a vague, "I'm not sure how late I'll be," and it had taken her a full hour before she realized he'd forgotten to take the food she'd packed him.
So now, after dropping Preeta a frantic call to just handle the catering calls before she arrived, she was stuck in the middle of traffic, her husband's tiffin box placed precariously in the seat beside her, shifting back and forth during every sharp turn and jolt. She slammed her hand on the horn, grumbling under her breath, "He's like a little child at times, he doesn't even know how to take care of himself properly. How he survived all those years in London on his own, I don't even know. And now, I'm late for work, all because he can't remember to take his lunch with him."
Shravan had set up his own independent firm and the route was far longer than it would've taken her to reach the old Malhotra & Associates. "This is all your fault," Suman skewered the tiffin box with a glower, "I should really just let him starve. But you know how much he likes karela now, I made you especially for him - Sumo's Authentic Karela - and I won't let you go to waste."
Grumbling to herself and at the tiffin box between turns, she turned at the next intersection as soon as she could and parked in front of the building. It was tall, grey, with two glass doors at the entrance, a plaque overhead reading, Shravan Malhotra & Associates. Shortly after discovering the truth surrounding his parents' failed marriage and his father's manipulation of his relationship with Suman, Shravan had decided to move out with his wife and set up his own company. He hadn't completely cut ties with his father - particularly after Suman's explanation that whatever his actions, his father's motives had always involved doing what he felt was best for Shravan's happiness - but neither did he wish to permanently reside in the same house with him, nor did he want to work with him. He had lost his trust and Shravan had not even completely forgiven him as yet. Those things took time.
Suman wasn't really complaining either. Shravan hadn't bought just any house for them to live in. He had bought her old house. The one she'd lived in with her parents before they passed away, the one in which they'd slowly begun to understand each other while working on the case - so many beautiful, precious memories resided in that house and Shravan knew how much it meant to her. It surprised her, how well he knew her, how much he did for her...even, how much he loved her. He didn't love in small doses, he loved completely, passionately, wholeheartedly. It could sometimes be overwhelming, but it was also the best thing that could've ever happened to her and she loved him back, measure for measure.
In moments like these, however, she forgot exactly why she loved him so much to the extent that she'd go out of her way to bring him his forgotten lunch and show up late for work.
She stormed in, stopping at the front desk, "Where is he?"
She didn't need to specify further. The secretary was well aware of who he was. And who Suman was, too.
Nervously adjusting his spectacles at the sight of the irate woman before him, he cleared his throat and said, "Mr. Malhotra doesn't want to see anyone right now, Mrs. Malhotra, he gave me very direct instructions-"
"Don't you "Mrs. Malhotra" me!" she glared, as the poor man visibly shrunk in his seat, "I'm his wife, he knows well enough that I don't take to instructions. Just buzz him and tell him I'm here."
The secretary reluctantly picked up the phone and pressed the button, "Mr. Malhotra, your wife is here and urgently needs to meet with you." A short silence ensued, interrupted only by the intermittent tapping of her foot against the floor tiles.
"Well?" she demanded.
"He..uh...Mr. Malhotra isn't answering," the man coughed feebly.
"Oh, forget it!" she flung up her hands in the air dramatically, "I'll go find him myself and give him a piece of my mind." Ignoring the secretary's protests, she stomped up the stairs, too impatient to wait for the elevator, until she reached the third floor, where her husband's main office was.
She probably should have knocked in case he was in the middle of a discussion with a client, but she was too annoyed to think clearly and pushed open the door, her mouth mid-open in preparation for a verbal tirade, when she stopped, surprised, at the image before her.
There was her forgetful idiot of a husband, on the verge of falling off his chair, sound asleep.
A small smile curved her lips, despite herself. One foot was propped up on his desk, the other stretched underneath. His face was peaceful, serene in sleep. He no longer looked the confident, powerful lawyer, but the adorably awkward and sweet boy he had been during their high school days - the boy who still lived beneath the public veneer. It looked as though his lunch wasn't the only thing he'd forgotten either, in his rush to get to work. Almost slipping off his nose was a pair of old glasses - his old glasses, from before he'd started wearing contact lenses. Obviously, he'd forgotten to put his contacts on in the morning, or had misplaced them, and had grabbed the glasses to read his files, which now lay strewn carelessly across his desk.
She closed the door carefully and tiptoed towards him, setting the tiffin box on the table. Not having the heart to wake him, she stroked his hair back gently. Maybe she'd been overreacting, the poor man was probably stressed out and overworked with some new case. It wasn't as though he'd forgotten his food on purpose.
"Chashmish," she murmured affectionately.
He stirred, his eyes opening drowsily to focus on her face and he yawned, "I haven't heard you call me that in a while."
"I haven't had reason to call you that in a while," she teased, pushing his glasses back along his nose. He smiled sheepishly, "I couldn't find my contacts."
"I figured. You forgot your lunch, too," she indicated the tiffin box behind her.
He sat up, bringing his leg down from the table and stretching in his seat, "What a good little wife."
"Good little wife? Now, you see here," she began wrathfully, the fire returning to her eyes, "This good little wife is now going to be late for work because of your...because of your..." her voice trailed off as she saw his eyes were twinkling at her - he'd been teasing - and a sweet smile graced his little bow of a mouth, making him look even younger and carefree than he'd looked before.
He eyed her above the frames of his glasses, "My what?"
She regained her fervor after clearing her throat abruptly, "Your carelessness! Your forgetfulness!"
"Well, we can't have that," he shook his head, clicking his tongue, pulling her forward firmly with his hands at her waist to stand between his legs, "Tell me, Mrs. Malhotra," he rolled the name under his tongue in a slow, beguiling manner, "Are you feeling forgotten by your inattentive husband?"
"Hardly," she retorted, attempting in vain to ignore the heat he evoked simply by circling his thumbs around her hips, "That's the root of the whole problem, isn't it? You wouldn't have been so tired you forgot your lunch if last night, we hadn't...you hadn't..."
"We hadn't...I hadn't...what?" he queried lazily, bringing her that extra inch closer, so she was flush against him, his thighs effectively quashing any chance for escape.
She folded her arms, fixing him with a glare. She wouldn't let him get away that easily. She was well aware of all his tricks to end a potential argument. "If you hadn't been so needy." There.
"I was the needy one?" he looked incredulous, "It takes two to-"
"That's irrelevant!" she cut him off before he could continue, inwardly cursing at the unprecedented flush that had risen to her cheeks, "It was your idea."
"And a damn good one, if I remember correctly," he shrugged, daring her to argue differently. The flush on her cheeks darkened further.
"Well, it wasn't because now I'm going to be late for work!" she finished, poking his chest.
"I think I can rectify that situation," he said, appearing deep in thought for a moment, before hooking his arm beneath her legs in a swift motion and setting her onto his lap. She squealed in surprise, her hands instinctively placed at his shoulders to steady herself, "What. Do. You. Think. You're. Doing," she enunciated sternly.
"Solving your problem," he said cheerfully, "You won't be late for work because you're not going to work today."
"Oh, no," she said, shaking her head as his motives became clear, "Don't even think about it-"
"It's a good idea," he said, grinning at the expression on her face, "Even better than last night's, I'd say."
"Aren't you supposed to be reading up on your latest case?" she reminded him ineffectually, even as he lifted her up with her legs circling his waist to set her down on the desk, between the files and the tiffin box.
"It can wait. I have a far more pressing one to attend to." He bent his head to flick his tongue teasingly under her jawline. She gasped, rolling her head back without thinking. He took advantage of the small movement, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down her neck, his beard creating delicious friction across her skin in perfect, titillating contrast to the caresses of his tongue.
"The door isn't locked," her last word ended off on a slow moan as he found that sensitive spot just under her ear.
"I told everyone I didn't want to be disturbed," he reminded her, tugging at the end of her braid and pulling it out of its elastic, running his hand through her hair.
"That didn't stop me," she said, pushing back, just a little, to look at him.
"You're Sumo," he said with a sexily quirked grin, "Nothing stops you. But, if you insist." He strode over to the door, leaving her startlingly bereft of his heat and locked the door, the smooth click setting off something sharp and hot inside of her. She turned around carefully on the desk, letting her legs dangle off the side facing him. He walked back slowly, deliberately, with all the cunning grace of a predator. He let his arms fall forward to grip the desk by either side of her, his dark blue tie falling forward.
She strained upward for his kiss, but he didn't move, only grinned at her frustrated efforts until she yanked him down sharply by his tie to meet her mouth with his. She kissed him hard, twisting her fingers around his tie for better leverage and angling her head to one side. Her ankles hooked around his legs, holding him in place and she opened her mouth to deepen the kiss only to have him pull back with a sheepish smile. "My glasses are slipping."
She would've found the confession humorous if she wasn't so turned on. She pulled them off his face and set them aside carefully on top of his files, "Better?"
"Now I can't see you properly," he made a frustrated sound under his breath, bringing his hands up to cup her face and rubbing his thumb across her lower lip, "You're a blur."
She may have been a blur, but the distorted vision only served to heighten his other senses. He slipped his thumb between her parted lips, her tongue swirling around it, before he pulled it free and replaced his finger with his mouth, biting her lower lip to evoke a moan from her that shook him throughout his entire body. Those delightfully arousing sounds she made were for him and him alone. The way she rocked her hips against his, tightening her legs around him - they were all for him and he didn't have to see it to know that she was just as inflamed as he was.
He pushed her back onto his desk, some of his files scattering to the floor. Suddenly, he was pushed back and he looked blankly at the irritated blur that was his wife, "Be careful! You push me one inch closer to the right and there goes the karela!"
"That's what's holding higher priority right now?" he didn't know whether to be amused or annoyed, "The food?"
"The food that you forgot and that I brought for you to eat," she grumbled, "All my hard work..."
"I'm only hungry for one thing right now..." he leaned in, but she stopped him with a hand over his mouth, "You're incorrigible. Remember, it was that insatiable appetite of yours that landed me in this situation in the first place."
"It wasn't as though you were complaining a minute ago," he pointed out, biting her palm gently. She removed it and glared mutely in response, though she didn't contradict him. "It's not my fault," he smiled helplessly, rubbing his thumbs over her thighs in small circles, "I love everything you make, don't get me wrong. But I love meri masterchef most of all."
"And that condones seducing me on your office desk?"
"You were willingly seduced," he grinned, leaning in further to brush his lips against hers lightly.
"Lawyers can be very persuasive," she smiled against his mouth, linking her arms around his neck.
"I can be when I have a pressing case," he murmured, drawing her leg back up around his waist.
"Allow me to rectify the situation," she laughed, untucking his crisp dress shirt from his pants.
"You'll be late for work," he reminded her.
"I thought I wasn't going to work today?"
And that, she thought with satisfaction, rather successfully closed the case.
A/N: If anyone's interested in more possible one-shots involving this universe, such as them settling into their new home and things like that, do let me know! And if you'd like me to PM you for more of my work, feel free to buddy me :)
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