Chapter Text
Lately, Phuwin was practically glued to Pond's hip.
It had started innocently enough—he had dropped Pond off at dance practice once and decided to stay and watch. One practice turned into two, then four, then all six rehearsals leading up to Pond's group's comeback performance. Phuwin sat quietly in the corner of the dance studio, nursing iced tea, sometimes with Ajax sleeping in a baby carrier strapped to his chest, and Ayra doodling in a notebook beside him.
And every time Pond looked up mid-dance to see his fiancé smiling at him from the mirror's reflection, something in him softened.
It wasn't just the support. It was the way Phuwin's eyes sparkled with pride. Like Pond was doing something worthy of worship just by dancing.
Even the other group members noticed.
"You sure he's not your manager?" Aou joked during their third practice.
"He's definitely not here for us," Santa teased, wiping sweat from his forehead and jerking a thumb at Pond. "Phuwin stares at you like you're BTS reunited or something."
Pond flushed but didn't respond. He didn't have to. He liked that Phuwin was always around. It made him feel... steady. Like no matter how intense comeback season got, he'd always come home to his anchor.
Joong, Pond's best friend and fellow bandmate, took it upon himself to make this "unofficial groupie" situation everyone's business.
He began taking candid photos of the two whenever he caught them being soft—Pond handing Phuwin his water bottle, Phuwin adjusting Pond's mic cord before a shoot, the two of them sharing a quiet forehead kiss behind the soundstage.
And Joong? He posted every single one of them to Twitter with dramatic captions like:
"Forget main rapper. Pond's real job is being Phuwin's baby daddy."
"Phuwin has attended more rehearsals than our manager."
"Get you a fiancé who brings snacks and stares at you like you invented rhythm."
Fans were living for it. "Pondphuwin supremacy" trended twice.
Phuwin found it funny at first. But underneath all the teasing, he couldn't quite explain the sudden possessiveness himself. He'd always been loving—affection came naturally to him—but lately it felt like something deeper had been stirred.
Something primal.
He watched Pond dance and his heart bloomed with adoration. Watched him sweat and strain through choreography and wanted to wrap him in a towel and kiss every inch of his skin. Watched him talk excitedly about comeback concepts and felt an overwhelming urge to pull him close and whisper, "You're mine."
He was so damn proud.
Which was why, on the day of Pond's MV shoot, he woke up early, arranged a bouquet of pink carnations and blue hydrangeas, dressed the twins in matching "My Pa Is A Star" shirts, and showed up to set without telling Pond.
Everyone lost their minds.
The stylists squealed. The director waved them in like royalty. Pond nearly tripped over a cable when he saw them entering.
"Are you trying to kill me?" Pond asked, red-faced and grinning so hard it hurt.
"Just your biggest fans showing up to support," Phuwin said sweetly, pecking his cheek.
Joong, who was watching the scene unfold from his makeup chair, shouted, "Y'ALL. PHUWIN'S HERE AGAIN. I REPEAT, STAGE HUSBAND HAS ENTERED THE BUILDING."
The entire crew laughed.
Santa dramatically fainted onto the sofa. "God, if you won't give me a love like theirs, then end it for me now."
Aou fanned himself. "Can I just say? If Phuwin shows up one more time, we need to add him as a fifth member. I've seen him here more than I've seen my own mother this week."
Pond just rolled his eyes and picked up Ajax, trying (and failing) to hide his smile. He leaned in and whispered, "You're becoming a meme."
Phuwin shrugged. "At least I'm a hot one."
And Joong, of course, posted a selfie of the three of them backstage captioned:
"The Pond Protection Squad showed up with matching shirts. I'm crying."
—
Later that week, long after the glitz and the rehearsal sweat had dried, they finally had a quiet evening at home.
The twins were fast asleep in their nursery. Pond was holed up in his home office, scribbling lyrics and humming into his recorder mic. The house was silent except for the faint hum of the air conditioner and the soft tapping of Phuwin's fingers on his phone screen.
He was curled up on the couch in his favorite hoodie—Pond's hoodie, really—and scrolling through Twitter, occasionally liking fan edits of Pond or laughing at meme threads.
Then one tweet stopped him cold.
"LOL Fest is cancelled. Phuwin is pregnant again."
Attached was a photo from his recent brand shoot—a soft pastel campaign where he was cradling his abdomen, unintentionally. The angle, the lighting, the warm smile—it looked... well, it looked like a pregnancy announcement.
Phuwin stared at it.
Then looked down at his own stomach.
Then back at the phone.
"...wtf," he muttered, and promptly typed that as a reply.
Three seconds later, he slapped his forehead and deleted it.
It was a joke. A fandom joke. They did that all the time.
He sighed, tossing the phone aside and groaning into a pillow. Then he sat up suddenly.
Because here's the thing: The last time? The last time he was pregnant, he hadn't even known.
It was Leo who told him.
And he was right.
So if the fandom was saying it now... if even random Twitter comments were noticing... maybe...
Oh.
Oh no.
He sat there, on the couch, slowly spiraling.
He wasn't nauseous. Not exactly. Maybe a little bloated? But that could just be from dinner. And his back had been hurting—but wasn't that just from carrying Ayra for too long yesterday?
He poked at his tummy again. It was soft. Suspiciously soft.
"...Pond Naravit," he whispered, eyes narrowed. "You are so dead."
As if summoned, Pond emerged from the office looking like a dream. Messy hair, glasses slightly tilted, sweatpants riding low on his hips. He was humming to himself, flipping through a notebook.
"Hey," he said casually. "Want tea?"
Phuwin narrowed his eyes further.
Pond paused. "...What?"
"Nothing."
"No, no. You're doing the thing. What did I do?"
Phuwin stood, walked over, and jabbed a finger at Pond's chest.
"Tell me you didn't knock me up again."
Pond blinked. "Wait, what?"
"You heard me!" Phuwin pointed an accusing finger. "I'm not saying I am—but if I am, I swear to God, Naravit Lertratkosum, you're sleeping on the couch for the rest of the month."
Pond looked both alarmed and amused. "Where is this coming from?"
"Twitter," Phuwin said dramatically. "The people know. They can smell it. I can't go through this again. I just got back to eating spicy food without crying."
Pond couldn't help it. He started laughing. "You're unbelievable."
"Don't you laugh at me—this could be your doing! You and your addicting pheromones and your boyband abs—"
Pond wrapped his arms around him. "Okay, okay. We'll go to the clinic tomorrow. Just to check."
Phuwin grumbled into his chest. "I swear, if I am pregnant, I'm going to make Joong babysit all three kids every Saturday for a year."
"Deal."
"And you're changing all diapers this time."
"Done."
Phuwin sighed again. "I'm serious. If I see one more damn 'is Phuwin pregnant' tweet I'm uninstalling the app."
Pond kissed his forehead. "You love the drama."
"...Okay yeah maybe a little."
—
Later that night, Phuwin lay in bed beside Pond, hand protectively on his stomach. Just in case.
Whatever tomorrow's test said—pregnant or not—one thing was clear.
He was deeply, hopelessly, irrevocably in love with this chaotic life, this chaotic man, and the weird chaos they built together.
And if another little one was coming?
Well.
God help Twitter.
****