Profile Me, Profiler
Sushant Bansal x oc!wife
Summary : Five days. Zero work. One intelligence officer with absolutely no idea how to mind his own business.
Word Count : ~1.3k
A/N: This fic is dedicated to all the women who bully their husbands (as they should)… enjoyyy.
The Goa sun was doing its absolute best to melt the world, but inside the sea-facing balcony of their guest house, Maya had established a strict vacation rule.
She held Sushant’s work phone, the heavy, encrypted black brick that usually hummed with security briefings, bureau updates, and high-level panic, between her thumb and forefinger like a biohazard.
"Maya, listen to me logically," Sushant said, holding up his hands in a posture of complete surrender, though his eyes darted nervously toward the phone. "Ek minute ke liye hand it back. I just need to send a single SMS to Sinha to make sure the intel transfer for the Northern corridor doesn't—"
"No." Maya dropped the device into a digital safe sitting on the mahogany desk, typed in a four-digit PIN he didn't know, and slammed the heavy door shut. Clack. "No intelligence transfers. No emergency briefings. No 'quick updates.' You promised, Sushant. Five days. Zero work. Just you, me, and the ocean."
Sushant swallowed hard. Without that phone, his primary anchor to reality was gone. He looked at Maya, standing there in a breezy pastel yellow sundress, her soft hair catching the morning breeze, looking like absolute magic. He sighed, the last of his executive resistance dissolving.
Walking over, he wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder. He pressed a warm, lingering kiss against the side of her neck, smelling the sweet, coconut-scented sunblock she’d just applied.
"Okay. Theek hai, baba, sorry," he murmured gently against her skin, his thumb caressing the soft curve of her hip. "No work. I am all yours. Command me, my majesty."
Maya turned around in his arms, smiling warmly as she framed his face with her hands. Her fingers traced the slight tension in his jawline, smoothing it out. "Shabaash. Now, let's go down to the deck for breakfast. And please... try to relax?"
"I am relaxed," Sushant declared softly, kissing her cheek. "I am the definition of relaxed."
He lasted exactly fourteen minutes.
By the time their second cup of filter coffee arrived, Sushant’s brain, deprived of national security crises, began running idle simulations. His eyes, trained by two decades of high stakes intelligence and strategic observation, couldn't simply look at the blue horizon. They scanned. They profiled.
Maya was quietly enjoying her croissant, watching the waves crash against the golden sand, when she noticed Sushant staring intensely over her left shoulder. His brow was slightly furrowed, his fingers gently tapping an intricate rhythm against his porcelain coffee cup.
"Sushant," Maya said warningly, laying a hand over his tapping fingers. "What are you doing?"
"Nothing," he said smoothly, turning back to her with an innocent, utterly adorable smile that would have fooled anyone else. "Just... observing."
"Observing what?"
"That couple near the infinity pool," he whispered, leaning across the small table, his eyes shining with that familiar, razor-sharp focus. "Dekho unhein. Table four. The man in the linen shirt and the woman in the pink dress."
Maya stole a quick glance. "What about them? They look fine."
"They are pretending to be on their honeymoon," Sushant whispered, leaning in closer, his voice dropping into his serious briefing tone. "Notice how they’re leaning toward each other, but their ankles are crossed tightly away from each other? Classical defensive posture. They had a massive argument in their room, probably about his mother or his work hours and now they’re performing 'happy newlyweds' for the public to save face."
Maya blinked at him, amused despite herself. "Sushant, they're literally holding hands."
"Natak kar rahe h" he countered softly, adjusting his sunglasses with absolute confidence. "Tum samajh nahi rahi, Maya. Look at his grip. Too tight. That’s stress, not love."
Maya shook her head, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "You are impossible. You can't just enjoy the view?"
"This is my view," he grinned, leaning back and taking a sip of his coffee. "Okay, look at Table Eight. The two men in business suits having breakfast."
"Let me guess," Maya sighed, leaning her chin on her hand. "International spies?"
"Worse," Sushant said dramatically.
"They’re claiming to be business partners, I overheard them at the check-in desk earlier. But look at how the older one keeps instinctively handing the salt shaker to the younger one before he even asks. And the way the younger one winced when the elder corrected his fork etiquette? Not partners. Estranged half-siblings trying to sort out an inheritance."
Maya let out a soft laugh, resting her elbows on the table. "You just invent entire TV serials in your head when you're bored, don't you?"
"It’s not invention, Maya, it's behavioral analysis," he said, looking immensely proud of himself. "And look, far corner, under the palm tree. The young guy in the blue shirt. He’s been sweating for forty-five minutes. Keeps touching his left jacket pocket."
"And your expert verdict, Director Sahib?"
"Classic asset-containment anxiety," Sushant declared gently, his tone laced with fond amusement. "He’s hiding an engagement ring. He’s going to propose today, but he’s terrified she’s going to say no, or that he’ll drop the box in the sand."
Maya watched the young man for another few moments, her gaze lingering on the way he kept absentmindedly patting the pocket of his jacket every few seconds. She tilted her head thoughtfully, a tiny frown forming between her brows.
“Really?” she asked, glancing back at Sushant. “I don’t know… he doesn’t look like someone who’s about to propose.”
Sushant looked at her over the top of his sunglasses, one eyebrow lifting in amused disbelief. “And what exactly does a man about to propose look like, Mrs. Bansal?”
Maya laughed softly, the sound warm and unhurried. “I have no idea,” she admitted with a small shrug. “But if I were about to ask the love of my life to spend forever with me…” Her eyes drifted back to the young man, who had once again checked his pocket for what seemed like the tenth time. “…I’d probably be looking at them, not my jacket every ten seconds.”
Sushant smiled with the quiet confidence of a man who trusted his instincts more than gravity itself. “Nervous people seek reassurance,” he said, taking another leisurely sip of his coffee. “His reassurance just happens to be in that pocket.”
Maya looked at him, at the brilliant, sharp mind that usually calculated regional stability, currently using its vast reserves to psychoanalyze unsuspecting tourists. He looked so relaxed, so boyishly happy, his dark eyes bright with mischief.
"Okay, Mister Profiler," Maya said, leaning in, her eyes glinting with a challenge. "I challenge you. Turn it off. Stop profiling everyone for the next hour. Focus entirely on me."
Sushant’s expression softened instantly. The tactical gleam in his eyes melted into pure, unadulterated warmth. He reached across the table and enveloped her hand in both of his, his large, warm palms instantly making her feel safe.
"Done," he murmured, his voice dipping low and sweet. "Tumhare alawa waise bhi kuch dekhna nahi chahiye mujhe."
By late afternoon, the oppressive tropical heat had surrendered to a cool, sea-scented breeze. Inside their villa, the wooden blinds were drawn, casting the bedroom in a soft, honeyed glow.
Maya sat on the velvet stool in front of the vanity mirror, clad only in a delicate, ivory robe. She had just stepped out of the shower, her damp hair falling down her back in loose, dark waves. She picked up her hairbrush, but before she could run it through her hair, a warm hand gently covered hers.
Sushant stood behind her. He had changed into a pair of comfortable grey shorts and a soft black t-shirt. His eyes met hers in the mirror, dark and impossibly tender.
"Main karoon?" he asked softly, his voice a low rumble in the quiet room.
Maya smiled, letting go of the handle. "If you want to."
Sushant took the brush and began to work it through her wet hair with slow, agonizingly gentle strokes. For a man whose hands were trained for combat, weapons, and rapid-fire strategy, his touch was incredibly soft. He took his time, parting her hair with his fingers, the pads of his thumbs lightly grazing her scalp, sending warm shivers cascading down her spine.
With every stroke of the brush, she could feel him breathing in the scent of her jasmine shower gel.
Once her hair was completely untangled, Sushant didn't step back. Instead, he set the brush down on the marble vanity and leaned over her. He swept her heavy, damp hair to one side, completely exposing the curve of her neck and her bare shoulder.
Maya’s breath caught as she felt his lips press softly against her skin. The kiss was feather-light at first, just a warm brush of his mouth right below her ear. He trailed a path of slow, open-mouthed kisses down the side of her neck, his hands coming up to lightly grip her shoulders.
"Sushant..." she whispered, her eyes fluttering shut as she leaned her head back against his chest.
"Shh," he murmured against her collarbone. "Sirf tum par focus karne ka order tha na? I am just following orders, ma'am."
He turned the vanity stool around so she was facing him. Without a word, he stepped between her knees, his large hands slipping under her robe to rest on her waist. His touch was grounded, and intensely focused. He looked down at her, his dark eyes shedding every ounce of their usual guarded calculation.
"Pata hai," Sushant whispered, his thumbs slowly tracing the soft curve of her waist, "I spend my entire life anticipating threats. But you... you are the only one who completely disarms me. I don't need a phone. I don't need the bureau. I just need you"
Maya reached up, her fingers sliding into his hair, cupping the back of his neck. "And you have me all to yourself " she whispered.
He didn't need to be told twice. He leaned down, capturing her lips in a deep, breathtaking kiss. There was no hesitation, only a fierce, overwhelming wave of devotion. Maya gasped softly into his mouth as his arms wrapped securely around her, lifting her effortlessly off the stool.
He carried her the two short steps to the plush king-sized bed, laying her back against the pillows without ever breaking the kiss. Sushant hovered over her, his weight supported by his elbows, entirely focused on mapping the taste of her mouth, the soft sighs she made, and the warmth of her skin beneath his hands. The world outside faded into absolute nothingness.
For the first time in months, Sushant Bansal was exactly where he wanted to be.
Later that evening, the sky over Goa had deepened into an ink blue canopy scattered with stars. They were sitting at the beach resort's upscale outdoor lounge, sipping cocktails under the ambient glow of string lights.
Sushant, looking devastatingly handsome in a crisp white linen shirt, suddenly paused with his glass halfway to his mouth. He nudged Maya’s knee under the table.
"Maya, look."
He nodded subtly toward a table near the edge of the patio. It was the young man in the blue shirt from breakfast. He was currently sitting across from a young woman, reaching nervously into his left jacket pocket.
"See?" Sushant whispered, a triumphant smirk playing on his lips. "What did I tell you? Asset-containment anxiety. He’s taking out the velvet box. He’s proposing! I called it!"
Maya squinted, observing the scene carefully. She watched the young woman sitting across from him. She wasn't looking at him with starry-eyed anticipation or romantic wonder. In fact, she looked impatiently at her watch, rolling her eyes as she took a sip of her mocktail.
The young man pulled the small blue velvet box from his pocket. He took a deep breath, his hands shaking slightly.
"Any second now, she’s going to cry," Sushant narrated confidently.
The man flipped the box open.
Maya watched as the man’s expression instantly morphed from nervous anticipation to absolute, unadulterated horror. He stared at the open box. He flipped it upside down. He stood up abruptly, his chair scraping loudly against the wooden deck, and began frantically patting down every single pocket on his body, his face draining of all color.
The woman across from him leaned over, looked inside the box, and slammed her hand against her forehead. Even over the ambient lounge music, Maya could faintly hear her sharp voice carrying across the breeze.
"Idiot! Tujhe ek kaam diya tha! Jiju will kill you!"
The young man didn't even argue. He looked at the girl in sheer panic, turned on his heel, and sprinted away from the table, desperately running back toward the hotel lobby like a man fleeing an explosion.
Maya burst out laughing, hiding her face against Sushant’s shoulder as her shoulders shook with mirth.
Sushant blinked, completely bewildered. He looked at the empty table, then down at his laughing wife. "What just happened? Did she reject him before he even asked?"
Maya wiped a tear of laughter from her eye and looked up at him, grinning from ear to ear.
"He wasn't proposing, Sushant," she giggled. "That was his sister. He's the best man or the brother of the bride, for a wedding happening here. And he just realized he left the actual wedding ring in his hotel room."
Sushant stared at her, dumbfounded. "But... the sweating? The constant checking of the pocket?"
"He wasn't sweating because of romantic terror, Director Sahib," Maya smiled, reaching over to pat his cheek affectionately. "He was sweating because he knew his sister was going to feed him to the sharks if he lost it. You analyzed the stress and the posture perfectly, but you completely missed the context. I read the sibling dynamic the second she rolled her eyes at him.”
Sushant sat back in his chair, staring at the spot where the young man had just fled.
The legendary strategic profiler of the nation had just been spectacularly debunked.
He turned his head slowly to look at Maya. She was grinning at him, her eyes dancing with triumphant mischief in the fairy lights.
A slow, helpless, absolutely utterly charmed smile broke across Sushant’s face. He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head.
"You win," Sushant murmured, leaning across the small table. He captured her chin gently between his fingers, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to her lips, completely unbothered by the other guests around them.
When he pulled back, his eyes were shining with nothing but pure adoration and Maya’s with victory. "Voh toh main hamesha hi karti hu.”
PS : All the pictures and text dividers are from Pinterest .
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Byeee!
