EYES LIKE THAT (Shubman Gill X Ishan Kishan)

and your body

The cold water of the shower wakes Ishan up properly, a good thing since he needed to be in form for today's match. The match itself wasn't that important, but the team absolutely needed a victory to boost their morale.

As Ishan gets out of the bathroom, he secretly feels a satisfaction at the fact that he smelled like Shubman, like his soap. Which was stupid because all the hotel rooms had the same soap.

But still.

Drying his hair with his towel, Ishan decides that he could indulge in a little bit of daydreaming about Shubman. It was no real harm, since his feelings would eventually die off if they kept up this charade of being friends. Fake it till you make it, right?

He looks around the room, craning his neck to see where Shubman was, feeling slightly conscious of his half-naked body, since he was only wearing boxers.

His equipment was gone. Huh. So he had already left without him.

---------

The bowler was furious, red in the face and Ishan was used to it. He had done swimmingly good shots on his balls and there had been consecutive boundaries. They needed just three more runs to win.

"Why don't you come back after drinking some milk, shortie?" The bowler makes a suckling noise before bowling the next ball. He looked f*cking pissed and his entire face was red.

Ishan ignores him, he needed to focus. He takes a deep breath, swings his bat with all his might, heart in his mouth.

FOUR! Another boundary. They'd won! Ishan almost gets on his knees with relief but gets surrounded by his team just to get smothered in hugs. The shouting was deafening from the crowd as Rohit ruffles his hair, Surya thumps him on the back before turning to high five the other jumping teammates. Virat punches the air, his face contorted into an expression of furious happiness. Shubman half lifts Ishan into the air, screaming in his ear. He laughs.

Nothing could beat this rush of cricket. He's still revelling in his happiness when he's passing the dressing room.

He stops when he hears his name outside the door.

"Stop f*cking talking about him like that, dude," It was Shubman, and there was a definite edge in his voice.

"Whatever. Should I talk about his mother instead?"

Ishan stiffens as he recognizes that voice. It was the bowler from earlier but what the hell? Sledging was limited to the stadium, to the ground.

"I don't want to hear his name in your mouth." His threat was polite.

"Ishan Ishan Ishan," he chants and steps closer to Shubman, "I don't take orders from you." Ishan could hear the heat in his response.

"Then it's a request," Shubman says, his voice calm and decided.

"What's your problem? Are you f**king that midget?" The bowler laughs loudly, clutching his stomach at that idea.

Ok, that was enough. Ishan pushes the handle and walks in, and completely ignoring the laughing man, he grabs Shubman's collar and pulls him outside, ignoring the stunned expression on each of their faces.

Before slamming the door, he decides to let one quip in, "Your d*ck is a f*cking midget, Connell."

Out in the hallway, he doesn't let Shubman talk.
"Thank you. But you don't have to defend me," Ishan says, leaning back on the corridor wall, "Especially not to a sore loser like that," he adds, disgust pinching his eyebrows together.

"You don't deserve to be talked about like that. And besides, you have great height. That loser couldn't find any fault in you, perfect as you are, so he latched onto your height." Shubman's jaw was set and he still looked worked up and angry.

"I love my height, but thanks for the consolation," Ishan tries to hold in his heart, at the word 'perfect'. How could he say that so casually?

"But you could have gotten into trouble, you know?"

"Don't care. You're off-limits to talk shit about," he says, pouting. Ishan tries to hold in his laugthter.

"That rule doesn't apply to you?" he jokes, but immediately regrets it when he sees the sober expression on Shubman's face.

"I'm really really sorry about yesterday."

"I know. I know. I'm also sorry for blindsiding you," he says, travelling up the stairs. Shubman follows him. As they reach the door, Ishan says something he knows he shouldn't say,

"I mean the first part was also kinda hot, so not that bad, huh?"

He turns the key to their door and gets in, he moves aside for Shubman. Shubman follows him slowly.

Ishan glances at Shubman to see his reaction, but all he found was his deep, dark eyes studying him intensely.

"You know, Ish, I can be dirty in a non mean way," Shubman says, his voice low but clear. He was being careful.

"Yeah?" Ishan says, and cringes at his hopeful tone. They should not be flirting. It was like being back to square one.

He tries to summon all the reasons they shouldn't be together, like a mantra.

They were two boys. He didn't want their relationship to f*ck up his friendship. If they broke up, it'd be awkward to be in the same team, it could affect their performance in the field. His parents. Media. He didn't know if they were ready for a relationship, all they had done till now was hurt each other.

He didn't want to be hurt.

Shubman sees the expression on Ishan's face change. He comes close to Ishan, his expression turning demanding.

"Ishan, do you really believe we can play this 'friends' game?"

Ishan breathes in deeply, trying to control his instincts. His closeness made him want to be wrapped up in Shubman's warmth. Be his coat.

"Answer me," his mouth was dangerously close to Ishan, "Don't lie like last time. You don't want to see other people. Neither do I."

Ishan's synapses were going haywire. Nothing could match this. Their bodies close together.

"I think I need to tell you many things," he manages to say. He couldn't stay away from Shubman, even if he tried. That much was established.

"Tell me, then," His voice sounded like he was begging him, "Tell me everything. Tell me the truth. Use your words."

At his voice, Ishan knew he was going to tell him all of it. All the reasons. Every single thing, but first he was going to begin from today's truth. What had been going through his mind the whole day.

"I was disappointed when you didn't wait for me to leave for the match." He wasn't whining, he had other reasons to be disappointed.

Shubman stares at him. Whatever he had expected Ishan to say, it wasn't this.

"C'mon, you knew I couldn't stand seeing you come out of that shower. I would've died," Shubman's tone, matter-of-fact.

"You took your turn flustering me this morning. You bailed at my turn."

Shubman's dazed expression turns dark, "You're welcome to fluster me, Ishan. Anytime."

Ishan laughs but Shubman continues, in a teasing tone.

"You know what will really fluster me, Kishan?" He says, toying with the buttons of his uniform, "If you take this off, and give me a lap dance."

"While telling me everything," he adds after a moment, "All the thoughts in your mind, all the reasons you think we won't fit together. Use your words. And your body."