Archive of Our Own

Keng and Namping had schedules today, they attended a photo shoot then completed an interview.

By the time they got back from the shoot and interview, it was already around four-thirty in the evening.

The apartment was quiet in that soft, tired way it only ever was after a long day. Namping had gone to freshen up first, changing out of the clothes he had worn all day, washing his face, and crawling into bed with the intention of sleeping for a little while.

Namping had barely managed to get comfortable before his eyelids started dropping again. Keng was still out in the living area, phone in hand, scrolling with a focused expression that made him look far too serious for someone who was clearly just lying on the couch and doom-scrolling whatever was on his screen.

When Namping mumbled, half-asleep, "Keng, I'm going to sleep," Keng had only glanced up briefly and answered, "I'll come later."

So Namping had gone to sleep alone.

Three hours later, he woke up.

The room was dimmer now, the clock on the bedside table showing a little past eight. At first, he thought Keng had finally joined him, but when he turned over and reached out, the other side of the bed was still empty.

He sat up, rubbing his eyes, then noticed the faint glow of a phone screen from the couch.

Keng was still there.

Still scrolling.

Still very much awake.

Namping blinked at him for a moment before getting out of bed and walking over. When he came closer, he realized Keng was not just reading random posts. He was deep inside Twitter, his expression growing more and more offended by the second.

Namping sat down beside him and leaned in, peering at the screen.

"What are you looking at?"

Keng did not even look away.

"Your fans," he said flatly.

Namping frowned, then looked at the screen properly.

A whole thread was open, and it was already spiraling into complete nonsense.

Keng stared at the screen for another second, then let out a quiet, irritated breath.

"They've been fighting for you for hours," he said. "Do they not have anything else to do?"

Namping slowly turned his head to look at him.

"Keng," he said, sounding both sleepy and incredulous, "are you getting frustrated over our fans' conversations?"

Keng finally looked at him. His expression was not exactly offended, but it was definitely wounded by the entire internet.

"They are claiming you," he said. "They keep saying that you are their wife."

Namping sat back a little, then burst out laughing.

"Oh my God," he said, covering his face. "They must be some twenty-year-olds doing this for fun. Why are you even fussing over it?"

Keng did not answer.

Instead, he shifted his body, turned around with the smoothest possible motion, and lay down with his head against Namping's lap like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Namping looked down at him in shock. "Keng."

Keng, utterly unbothered, kept his phone raised and continued scrolling.

Then he read aloud, "Look. They are saying you must be lying on my lap."

Namping leaned over to see the screen properly, his laughter building again. "What?" He squinted at the reply. "They are actually talking like this?"

Keng gave the tiniest smirk, his eyes still fixed on the phone.

"Of course I am," he said.

Namping stared at him.

Keng lifted his eyes just enough to glance at him, then back at the screen. "Oh, they are fighting again."

Namping snorted, his shoulders shaking as he read the thread continuing below. "They are arguing about marriage certificates now."

Keng made a sound that was almost a scoff, almost a laugh.

"Ridiculous," he muttered, though his hand was already resting comfortably on Namping's thigh.

Namping kept reading, the corners of his mouth twitching harder and harder. "This is insane. They are all fully committed to the delusion."

Keng did not disagree.

He merely settled deeper into Namping's lap, as if the thread had finally proven his point.

And because he could never resist making things worse, he said, very calmly, "So. Still think they are not jealous?"

Namping laughed so hard he had to bend over, one hand covering his face.

"Keng," he said between laughs, "you are unbelievable."

Keng looked completely pleased with himself.

"Yes," he said. "I know."

Namping lost it the moment he hit the part where they all seemed to be forming a tiny rebellion against Keng.

He covered his mouth with one hand, shoulders shaking, eyes flying across the screen so fast he nearly missed half the insults.

"Keng," he wheezed, already laughing, "Keng, they are actually planning a fight."

Keng, who was still lying on his lap as if the entire world had been reduced to a very comfortable pillow, gave the phone a quick, unimpressed glance.

"Mm."

Namping made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a gasp. "No, no, listen to this."

He held the phone a little lower and read out loud, voice breaking every other word.

'"Let's fight Keng, no way he gets all that beauty to himself!!!!!"'

Keng's eyes shifted upward.

Namping looked down at him, grinning so hard his cheeks hurt. "They are serious."

"I can see that."

"And then," Namping continued, barely managing to breathe, "this one goes, 'When are we fighting Keng?'"

Keng lifted his head slightly, just enough to look offended on principle. "They can schedule it properly. Do they think I am free all day?"

Namping burst out laughing again, louder this time. "That is not the point."

"It is absolutely the point."

"You are missing the point entirely."

Keng took the phone from his hand with the air of a man inspecting evidence in court. He stared at the screen, his expression growing stranger by the second.

Not angry. Not really.

More like deeply, personally insulted by a group of strangers who were being far too loud about his husband.

Namping watched him read another line and immediately started snickering again.

Keng's mouth tightened.

"What."

"You are making that face again."

"What face."

"The face where you act like you are about to start a war, but also somehow you already won."

Keng gave him a flat look. "I am not acting."

"Mm."

"I am very capable of starting a war."

Namping laughed so hard he had to lean forward. "Over Twitter?"

Keng's gaze moved back to the phone. "Over principle."

"Oh my god."

"They are rude."

"They are delusional."

"They are collectively delusional."

Namping rubbed at his eyes, still laughing. "Keng, they are literally fighting over who gets to claim me. That is the definition of fan behavior."

Keng clicked his tongue. "I do not care what the definition is. They should still use better manners."

Namping smiled down at him, warm and helpless. "You sound jealous."

Keng looked up immediately. "I am not jealous."

"You sound jealous."

"I am not jealous. I am irritated."

"Because they are calling me their wife?"

Keng stared at him for a second. Then his expression shifted, dry and sharp in that way that always made Namping want to laugh harder.

"They can call you whatever they want," Keng said. "It will not change the fact that you are lying on my lap."

Namping blinked, then laughed again, louder and softer all at once. "Oh my god."

Keng's eyes flicked to the screen again, and he scrolled with one thumb, clearly trying to recover some sense of dignity.

Namping watched him for a moment, still smiling. "You have been reading this for hours?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because apparently none of them know when to stop."

Namping glanced back down at the thread, eyes catching on the next line.

"'We can fight among ourselves once we get Ping here. Out of uncle's hands!!!'"

He snorted immediately. "Uncle."

Keng exhaled through his nose. "I noticed that part."

"They actually call you uncle."

"I am aware."

Namping sat up a little, trying and failing to look serious. "Well, technically, if they are our fans, then maybe they can call you uncle."

Keng turned his head slowly.

Namping bit back a grin.

"Do not start, this is all First's fault." Keng warned.

"I am not starting anything."

"You are absolutely starting something."

Namping glanced back at the phone and nearly started laughing again. "Wait, wait, listen to this one."

He cleared his throat and read, struggling to keep his voice steady.

'"ANYTHING FOR POONG."'

Keng made a face. "That is not even your name."

"It is now."

"It is not."

"It really is."

Keng sat up halfway, giving him a long, suffering look. "Why is everyone suddenly so dramatic?"

Namping laughed. "You are asking that like you are not one of the most dramatic people I know."

"I am not dramatic."

"You are currently reading fan tweets about yourself like it is a police report."

Keng paused.

Then, very calmly, he said, "Of course I am."

Namping nearly fell sideways laughing.

Keng stared at him, unimpressed. "Why are you laughing."

"Because you are weird."

"I am not weird."

"You are sitting here, in the dark, reading strangers arguing about whether I belong to you or to them, and you are taking it personally."

Keng looked back at the phone, then at him, then said with complete seriousness, "I go to the gym every day for a reason."

That made Namping laugh even harder.

"Oh my god, are you actually threatening our fans?"

Keng's mouth twitched. "Not threatening."

"What then?"

"Making a factual statement."

Namping clutched at the blanket, still laughing. "What factual statement?"

Keng shifted closer, resting a hand lightly on Namping's knee now, like he had to physically anchor himself before continuing.

"That if they ever actually decided to fight me, I would be prepared."

Namping stared at him for a beat.

Then he laughed so hard he had to bend over.

"Keng."

"What."

"You sound like a villain."

"I am not a villain."

"You are absolutely a villain."

"I am a very reasonable man."

Namping wiped at the corner of his eye. "A reasonable man would not be this offended by the phrase 'out of uncle's hands.'"

Keng looked offended all over again. "It is the disrespect."

"Oh, now it is disrespect?"

"It was disrespect from the beginning."

Namping leaned back against the headboard, still grinning. "You are unbelievable."

Keng took his hand and held it for half a second before letting it fall again, like he was refusing to be sentimental while he was being mocked by fictional internet people.

Then he looked down at the thread once more and frowned.

Namping noticed. "What now?"

Keng tilted the phone toward him. "This one is saying they have a marriage certificate."

Namping's eyes widened, then he started laughing all over again, helpless and bright. "No they do not."

"They are saying it is in their living room."

"They do not even know where our living room is."

"Exactly."

Namping covered his face with both hands, shoulders shaking. "Oh my god, they are insane."

Keng gave a small hum of agreement, though his eyes were now sharper, more amused than annoyed.

"They are very committed to being insane."

"And you," Namping said, peeking through his fingers, "are very committed to reading every single word."

Keng glanced at him. "Someone has to monitor the threat level."

Namping dropped his hands and looked at him with open delight. "Threat level."

"Yes."

"From fans who are saying they want to fight you for my imaginary honor."

Keng nodded once. "Correct."

Namping laughed again, then leaned in, nudging Keng's shoulder with his own. "You know what your problem is?"

"What."

"You are acting like this is an actual territorial dispute."

"It is."

"It is not."

"It is emotionally one."

Namping went quiet for half a second, then broke into fresh laughter. "Emotionally one?"

Keng leaned back against him again, finally relaxing just enough to look smug. "Yes."

"That is not a real category."

"It is now."

Namping looked down at him, still smiling so wide it almost hurt. "You are ridiculous."

Keng closed the phone for a moment and set it aside, then reached up and caught Namping's wrist lightly, tugging his hand toward him.

Namping stared at him.

He turned his head, still laughing, and looked at him like he could not decide whether to kiss him or throw the phone at him.

"That is not fair."

"It is extremely fair."

"You are enjoying this way too much."

Keng picked the phone back up and glanced at the screen again, completely unbothered now. "I am enjoying the fact that I am right."

Namping sat up just enough to peer at him. "Right about what?"

Keng looked at him, then at the phone, then back at him with infuriating calm.

"That none of them are taking you anywhere."

Namping laughed again, softer this time.

"Wow," he said, voice warm with amusement, "that was almost sweet."

Keng's eyes narrowed slightly. "Almost?"

Namping smiled down at him, still trembling with laughter. "You are still mad."

"I am not mad."

"You are definitely mad."

"I am proactive."

Namping snorted, then reached down and ran his fingers gently through Keng's hair. "Proactive boyfriend."

Keng caught his hand again, but this time he did not let go.

"Try husband."

Namping's laughter eased into a bright smile, and he looked down at the thread one more time, already reading the next absurd line with fresh amusement.

"Oh no," he said, breathless. "They are not done."

Keng sighed like a man preparing for battle.

"Of course they are not."

And Namping, still laughing, tipped his head back against the pillow and said, "Keng, I think your fans are more dramatic than your enemies."

Keng looked at him once, dead serious.

"My enemies have better sense."

Namping laughed so hard again that Keng finally gave up trying to stay dignified, leaned over, and stole the phone back.

"Hey," Namping protested between laughs, "I was still reading that."

"You have read enough."

"No, I have not."

"You have read too much."

Namping reached for the phone, still grinning. "Give it back."

Keng pulled it out of reach. "No."

Namping narrowed his eyes, but the laughter in them gave him away completely. "You are such a child."

Keng's mouth curved, just slightly.

"And you are still my lap."

"Just two more !!!"

Namping was still smiling when he scrolled further, eyes catching the next line - and just like that, the laughter came rushing back.

"Wait- listen to this," he said, already half-laughing.

He read out loud, voice soft but shaking with amusement,
"'We can definitely win Keng.... but after the fight, just imagine Namping crying because he actually wants to be with Keng - '"

He didn't even finish. He just dropped his head back, laughing.

Keng's expression shifted, something quieter now.

Namping wiped at his eyes, still grinning. "They really think I'd cry for you."

Keng leaned closer, voice low, dry. "You would."

Namping huffed, still smiling. "Confidence."

Another scroll.

"'You lucky bastard --'" Namping read, then paused.

Keng reached over, took the phone from his hands, and glanced at the screen.

Then, calmly,

"Yes," he said. "I am that lucky bastard. Thank you."

Namping laughed again, softer this time.

Keng locked the phone and set it aside.

"Alright," he said, looking at him properly now. "That's enough."

"Enough?" Namping echoed, still amused.

"You've had your fun for today."

Namping tilted his head. "Oh, have I?"

Keng leaned in just slightly, gaze steady, something warm and certain beneath the teasing edge.

"At the end of the day," he said quietly, "they all know you're mine."

Namping's smile didn’t fade—but it softened.

Keng stood, reaching a hand out toward him.

"Come on," he added. "Let’s go eat."

Namping slipped his hand into his, still smiling as he let himself be pulled up.