Chapter Text
“Rough, just the way I like it,” Shah said while rubbing Modi’s long beard fondly. Secretly though, he hoped Patanjali would release a shaving kit so that Modi would finally get rid of it.
He might not have any control over Modi except for the bed, but he’d learnt a lot during that one time he had snuck out with Arnab to see exotic locations at the Marriott hotel (exclusively room number 377).
”Brothers and sisters, really? I thought you preferred clean shaven faces.” He did. Ever since he had offered to cover up Arnab’s involvement in a case, Modi had been growing ever distant. There was a distance larger than the wage gap between them. Oh how he wished he could go back to times before.
”Of course not! This accusation hits me hard!”
Hard?
Hard.
The same thought was going through both their minds and they were about to lock the door. Shah reached into his pockets for the spare 1000 and 500 rupee notes he kept for cases such as this.
Modi walked towards the pillar in the room they used for exceptional purposes when they heard a knock at the door.
Shah shoved the bills back in his kurta only to look up and see someone he had seen less of this year than the constitution.
”Brothers and sisters, Arnab!” Modi gasped, much like someone caught by their wife looking fondly at pictures about the prime minister from their wedding. He spoke from experience.
“Yes, it is I Modi, don’t fret. Sitharaman sent me, something about intel on opposition?” He fixed his glasses higher on his face. That suit made him look downright delicious. Only problem with it was that no matter how much he tried he couldn’t get Arnab to wear a saffron tie.
”That is.....exactly what we were doing here,” Shah said. He could feel Modi glaring at him from behind, at this moment he scared him almost as much as minorities did. “Please, sit down.”
”Are you aware, Honourable Prime Minister Modiji, that there have been, how shall I put this, rumours? Of you and shah together?”
Shah sputtered. “Bad atta noodles, sorry.”
”Well,” he passed his phone over “look. We have to do something, your Instagram PR team is worried. We can’t keep raising their wages for what they have to put up with, we’ll run out of black money!”
”Brothers and sisters what do you suggest we do?”
Arnab leaned in, Shah kept wishing he was closer.
”We deflect. We set you up with someone else, everyone thinks so because you are single, we tell them you’re not. This can be contained, Republic will make sure of it.”
”That’s what you said about the Rafale deal,” Shah protested, trying to get Arnab to look at him, spare him a glance even. The longing was too much,
”Fine, then. Don’t trust me, but just remember- the nation wants to know!”
Two days later at the parliament, Modi, in an effort to deflect rumours of him and Shah being together instead started rumours of him and Rahul.
”Gandhi? Gandu Gandhi, that’s who?” Shah asked him.
”Brothers and sisters shh, that’s our bedroom word, you’ll leak something.”
”Arnab meant a woman, Modi. A woman!”
”Brothers and sisters you know how women scare me. It’s in the RSS handbook. They’re witches.”
”You hugged him, you’ve never hugged me in public. You know what this means, don’t you?”
“Brothers and sisters, you’re breaking up with me.”
”I am, Modi. I can’t be with someone who refuses to be who they are.” He stormed out of the room, walking back to his. When he opened the door, he found a note.
Meet me, at that sacred place tomorrow. Not Ayodhya mandir, that sacred place.
-yours, Arnab.
Shah slept soundly that night, only dreaming of how he’d soon turn that tie a shade of orange, and that face a flushed red.