Daniel Howell was born Daniella Howell.

He was born a girl, and from the moment she knew the difference, she knew she wasn't a normal girl.

All through her early years of schooling, she requested to be called Dan. Not Dani, not Daniella, just Dan.

It wasn't until high school, that Dan truly discovered and understood what she, he was, and what it really meant.

Transgender.

'Denoting or relating to a person whose self-identity does not conform unambiguously to conventional notions of male or female gender.'

Dan had always preferred dressing like the other boys did, being called Dan instead of Daniella, even by her – his parents. She'd never thought of being anything other than a girl as even a possibility, but once she did, it changed everything. She'd never known she could be a boy, dress and identify as a boy and have nothing about her - him - change.

After discovering the one term that really described her – him, accurately, everything changed.

She cut her hair, which had never been longer than her shoulders anyway, so it resembled a boy's, cut short to just above her ears. She shaved the sides, so there was only a few layers, and saved up to buy a hair straightener, to straighten her fringe.

She updated her wardrobe, pierced both ears and the left side of her bottom lip, and with permission from her parents, legally changed her name.

She, became a he, and he had never felt as comfortable in his own skin before.

Daniel Howell was born.

After the stress, confusion, and basic identity crisis that had been Dan's life, one would assume that sexuality would be the easiest thing to figure out.

It wasn't.

See, Dan had never really been interested in girls, or boys specifically before. If someone was cute ... they were cute.

End Of Story.

He didn't realise that was anything special.

He did, when Allie McKenzie kissed him in Year 10, then announced that she was more attracted to him when he dressed as a girl, and fled.

Then, a few weeks after, he kissed Bobby Stewart, who was cute and had nice eyes, but was a horrible kisser and even worse of a person.

Dan learnt quickly, thanks to those experiences, that no matter how cute a person was, and yes, it only had to be a person, if they weren't nice – he wasn't interested.

(It helped if they were a good kisser, definitely, but it wasn't the most important detail.)

So Dan went through some boyfriends and a few girlfriends. The only times he broke it off was with his toxic, cheating bitch of a girlfriend, and his arse-hole boyfriend who didn't like Dan's "lady parts".

As if it was Dan's fault that he wasn't rich or brave enough for the surgery. Nor was he sure if he even wanted to change anything.

Rick had put Dan off dating, and to some degree people ... that is, until he met Phil Lester.

They met at a gym of all places.

Dan had just auditioned for a part in a big theatre production of Macbeth, and upon receiving a callback for the part of Duncan, decided to actually use his membership for something other than wasting his money.

Within the hour, he was practically soaked, dripping with perspiration. Not the prettiest picture – so he thought.

Phil, apparently, believed differently.

"So I hate to be that guy – you know, the really cocky, obnoxious ones?"

Phil's skin was glistening under the fluorescent 'environmentally-safe' lights, his cheeks flushed, but he didn't look as gross as Dan felt. Dan thought he looked quite gorgeous with his hair pushed back off his face.

"I know the type." Dan said, unscrewing the cap of his water bottle. His mind flew to thoughts of Rick, which he quickly pushed aside.

"Good. So you can tell me if I start acting that way, right?"

"You sound very sure of yourself." Dan replied, smirking. "How do you know I even care in the first place?"

"I'm ridiculously confident and impossibly naive."

Phil smiled, and Dan thought it was the best thing he had ever seen.

"I'm still listening – but I have to admit ... this doesn't seem to be leading anywhere."

"It's leading to me asking you out. Well, it was anyway – I guess that cat's out of the box."

"Out of the box?"

"Yeah, you know, Schroedinger's cat? The one in the box that's alive and dead, until you open it..."

Dan nodded, and he couldn't stop the laugh that escaped.

"I sound really lame and nerdy, don't I? Well, I guess all hopes of me making a good impression are, along with the stupid cat, dead."

Dan, feeling confident, or perhaps just foolishly brave, kissed Phil's warm, flushed cheek.

"I'd say you've made a great first impression. And you shouldn't worry – that cat's perfectly alive and well."

Their first date was wonderful, they connected so well, it felt like they'd known each other their whole lives as opposed to just a few hours.

At the end, Phil, rather reluctantly, drove Dan home. He didn't want to, because he didn't want their date to end. But it must, and it did.

They kissed outside Dan's front door, a proper mouth-on-mouth, tongues included kiss; that picked up Dan's heart and spun it, making him feel a little dizzy – although that could be the effects of lack-of-oxygen. Who knew?

Dan stood at the door, waving, until Phil was out of sight. He entered his apartment slowly, replaying the night's events as he made himself some coffee, leaning against his kitchen counter because his knees weren't feeling strong enough to hold his weight for much longer.

He recalled Phil's smile, oh how he loved that smile; it brightened one's mood, hell, it brightened the whole room. His voice was incredible, like honey, as was his actions – adding a whole other layer as he spoke.

The stories he told, felt like just that; intricately weaved tales that captured Dan's attention completely. He had hung onto every single word, as if they were the last he would ever hear.

Dan sighed aloud.

He wasn't a psychic, by any means but he could easily guess what would happen if he kept dating Phil. And, he was only a little surprised.

He'd always been a hopeless romantic, there's no reason it would be any different with Phil.

By the end of their third date, they were official.

Which, under other circumstances, should have been a good thing, a bringer of happiness.

For Dan, it wasn't all good.

Being Phil's boyfriend meant telling Phil the truth, the whole truth, and all the secrets he usually kept clutched tight to his chest. Which was nerve-wracking, not only because of Phil's possibly negative reaction, but because Dan could feel himself slowly falling for Phil – he didn't want anything to change that.

Unfortunately, what must be done ... must be done.

"Hey, Phil?" He asked, walking into Phil's kitchen, where his boyfriend was busy making buttermilk pancakes for dessert, dancing to invisible music that only seemed to exist in his head.

"Yeah..." Seeing Dan's worried expression, he stopped – stopped watching the pancakes, stopped dancing, just ... stopped.

"Is everything okay?" He asked, sounding worried himself.

"Yeah ... I just..." Dan sighed.

He didn't have a choice. He had to tell Phil.

"There's something I need to tell you."

"Okay, so tell me." Phil said, as if it was the easiest thing in the world.

Which it wasn't. The thought of telling Phil, and the possibility of how he might react was making Dan feel sick. His stomach was tight, turning; he felt like he was on a giant boat, rocking in the waves in the middle of a huge storm.

Phil, noticing how pale Dan looked, turned the stove off and took a step forward.

"Dan, are you alright?"

Dan didn't respond, he couldn't. He was too busy trying to keep his balance, keep from falling over. He was finding it hard to breathe, every breath he took was only enough for half a second before he needed more, before his lungs were crying our for sweet, delicious oxygen.

Phil lead Dan slowly to the dining table, helping him sit on a chair.

"Dan ... Dan, what's going on?" He asked, slipping his hand into Dan's, squeezing it.

Thanks, in part to Phil's help, Dan thought he might just be able to speak. His breathing was semi-normal, but his nerves were still bouncing around, and the gut-clenching twist of anxiety was slowly tightening inside him, it's grip like a deadly boa-constrictor.

"Like I said, I, uh, I have to - to tell you something."

Dan laughed nervously.

"As you can tell, I'm having a bit of trouble."

'I'm sure you'll be okay. Whatever you have to tell me, it can wait until you're alright."

"It can't wait." Dan said. "Not anymore. It's too important."

"Well ... what is it?"

"I'm..." Dan sucked in a deep breath.

Here he goes...

"I'm ... transgender."

Phil took the news surprisingly well.

Surprising to Dan, that is.

"Okay."

"O-okay?" Dan echoed.

"Yeah. Okay." Phil repeated.

Dan's eyes were still wide. He believed Phil, he didn't understand Phil, but he believed him anyway.

"Is that ... not what you were expecting me to say?" Phil asked, now himself confused.

"It's what I was hoping, but ... my uh, my last boyfriend – he wasn't exactly tolerable. Of who I am, you know, down there."

"Well that's bullshit."

Phil's straightforward cursing struck Dan.

In all the time he had known Phil, which was nearing two months, he'd never heard Phil say anything harsher than 'crap' – and that had only been when he'd accidentally stubbed his toe. He had told Dan he didn't like swearing; it just wasn't his thing, it never had been.

"Bullshit?"

"Yes. It doesn't matter that you're transgender, not to me, and it shouldn't to anyone – who you are..."

Phil paused, searching for the right words.

"Physically, doesn't impact your personality. It doesn't affect who you are as a person, and if you identify yourself as a boy, then to me it's simple - you're a boy."

Phil squeezed Dan's hand again.

"I like you Dan, okay? That's what matters to me. Nothing else. I'm sorry, but whoever your ex was, he's an insensitive dick, and he most certainly doesn't deserve someone as amazing and incredible as you."

Dan laughed, and Phil smiled, glad to see Dan happy.

"You really don't care, do you?" Dan asked, just to be completely certain.

Phil shook his head. "I only care about the truly important things, like whether you've ever cheated on someone or your opinions on cacti and other house plants."

Phil shrugs one shoulder, slightly.

"You being transgender ... that's not an important detail that I need to be concerned about. It's important to you, which is understandable and I get that, but it's not really something that concerns me, nor do I think it should."

Dan pulled Phil down towards him, causing Phil to half-collapse onto his knees in front of Dan. He tugged Phil towards him, cupping his cheeks and kissing him hard and fast and with little care.

It was messy, and sloppy and perfect.

"Thank you." Dan murmured against Phil's lips.

"Thank you, so much. Just, thank you."

The first time they have sex, they take it slow, they're careful, and when they're finished Dan feels like crying; because Phil had been so nice and gentle with him. He had taken care of Dan, like no one else ever had before. He'd spent the time to look after him and make sure he was okay, that it all felt good. He made sure Dan was having the best time of his life and Dan still couldn't believe it had all happened.

He wondered if that's what it meant to be properly loved by someone else.

Five months later, Dan woke up with his head on Phil's chest, his arm wrapped around Phil's waist and Phil's lips on his forehead.

It was in that moment, in his little bubble of comfort and happiness, he realised he was in love with Phil.

He also realised that he never, ever wanted to move. Again. Not even for food.

...okay, maybe for food.

They moved in together, a few weeks and a couple of days later – though technically, Dan moved in. Phil's apartment was the biggest, and already held three quarters of Dan's belongings anway.

Phil asked Dan to move in ... in a very unconventional way.

Which is okay, perfect even, because it's a nice reflection of their relationship, which is rather unconventional itself.

He makes a copy of his key, and for at least a week, he struggles to find a way to ask Dan. Eventually, Phil just slips it onto Dan's key chain while he's in the shower.

Dan notices, but doesn't say anything.

By the weekend, they've split space in the bedroom closet, and in the bathroom, and the lounge room – they practically halved the whole flat.

Except, it doesn't feel halved ... it feels merged.

They've merged.

Two years later, they moved into a bigger, better flat. They had a routine, Tuesday brunches and weekly date nights and movie marathons every other Saturday.

Two years later, one of them had important news, and the other had an important question.

"Honey ... I'm home." Phil's voice carried through the apartment, to the lounge, where Dan sat, waiting anxiously.

"Hi." Dan said, not bothering to hide his worry.

"Is everything okay?" Phil asked, detecting the concern in Dan's tone. He shrugged his jacket off, hanging it on the coat rack.

"Yeah ... I, uh, I have something to tell you."

Phil pondered as he took off his shoes, what Dan would need to tell him; they already knew everything about each other ... at least, he thought they did.

"What's up?" He asked, as he padded into the loungeroom where Dan was sitting.

Dan opened his mouth to speak, but found the words were sticking in his throat. His eyes were beginning to brim with unwanted tears, and he choked back a sob.

He didn't know what to do, how to do it. He knew he had to tell Phil, that was obvious, a given. It was the right thing to do - realistically it was the only thing to do. The problem was he didn't know how to speak the words that were bouncing around in his mind and sinking in his stomach like a stone in water.

"Hey ... hey ... don't cry. Baby, what's wrong?" Phil rushed to the couch, the only thing on his mind how upset Dan was by whatever he was keeping quiet about. He wrapped his arms around Dan and pulled him, tight, against his chest.

Dan's sobs turned into full-blown tears and each drop burned his skin as it slid down his cheeks. Phil rubbed his back, whispering soothing, comforting words to calm Dan down.

It was dark outside, the sun having sunk into the horizon of the sky nearly an hour before, when Dan's eyes are finally dry and his head feels a tiny bit clearer, though his heart is still heavy with his secret.

"I-I'm sorry." Dan hiccuped, pulling back to see Phil's face, unsure of what expression he would be faced with.

"It's okay - you don't have to be sorry. Can you ... do you want to tell me what has gotten you so upset?"

Dan nodded, taking a deep breath. He spoke as he exhaled, in an attempt to release his anxieties with his words.

"I-I'm ... I'm pregnant."

Now, usually, when your boyfriend tells you he is pregnant ... you're dreaming, and none of it is actually real. You wake up, tell him about it, and both of you share in fits of giggles before pushing the memory to the abandoned areas of your mind where things like the time you embarassed yourself in front of your crush, live.

When Dan told Phil that he was pregnant, he didn't even for a second believe he was dreaming - simply because he had no reason to. He trusted himself in his knowledge of Dan to know that his boyfriend wasn't lying, and as such he believed Dan whole-heartedly.

His natural response was to laugh, which, unsurprisingly, shocked Dan just a little bit.

"What ... what's so funny? Why are you laughing?"

"Because," Phil said, pulling a little red box out of his pocket.

"I picked up your engagement ring today."

"My engagement ring?" Dan reiterated - he didn't quite believe he'd heard Phil properly.

"Yes," Phil replied. "I was going to ask you to marry me."

Between planning a wedding and having a baby ... Dan had never admired his mother, nor his older sister, nor even the whole female species as much as he did when he was throwing up at four in the morning.

Phil, bless his beautiful, kind heart, was the nicest, most gorgeous person Dan had ever met.

"You're just saying that because I took the week off." Phil said, after Dan had, once again, praised him for his immense help.

"No. I mean it. Sure, the fifty packets of painkillers have been as much of a God-send as you are ... but I'm not exactly marrying my medicine, now am I?"

Phil raised an eyebrow dubiosuly. "So when I walked in on you making out with that box earlier ... it was nothing?"

"I had a freaking foetus trying to kick it's way out of my stomach. I would have kissed a potato if it had the ability to ease my pain in any way."

Phil grinned. "Well, I'm the one who bought the medicine ... can I have a kiss?"

"If you bring yourself down to my level, because we both know that there is no fucking way on this earth that I can bring myself up to meet you. In fact, I may just sleep on this couch for the next four months or so."

"No you won't." Phil replied, walking over to sit on the furniture, next to - and nearly on top off - Dan's legs.

"This couch is way too uncomfortable and you know it. You wouldn't last four hours, nor would I, as your brilliant fiance, let you."

Dan pouted. "I hate it when you're right. Why do you always have to be right?"

"Because we can't both be wrong?" Phil suggested.

Dan stuck his tongue out. "I hate you."

"No you don't." Phil reminded him.

He leant over, mindful of Dan's baby bump, and kissed him, gently and carefully and joyously slowly.

"No, I don't. I do love you, you're amazing." Dan said, pulling away.

Phil smiled softly, kissing him again. "I love you too."

Just as Phil said "too", Dan groaned in what sounded like agonising pain - which of course immediately sent Phil into 'holy crap what's hurting you' mode.

"What ... what is it?"

"The ... the stupid baby kicked me ... God, that was ... oooh ... that was a bad one."

Phil rubbed his hands over Dan's baby bump gently, hoping to soothe the pain even a little bit. He could only imagine what Dan was going through, he wanted to help in any way he could.

"The painkillers will start to kick in soon - hopefully - you just need to breathe deeply and try not to get too worked up. I know I probably sound ludicrous to you, but that's what the doctor said and he probably knows what he's talking about, being qualified and all."

Dan smiled fondly at Phil's adorable waffling, and silently counted himself incredibly lucky to have found someone as wonderful as Phil.

The next time the baby kicked, Phil felt it, vibrating through Dan into Phil's hand and his wrist, like earthquake tremors through his veins.

Neither of them could stop smiling for hours, not even Dan.

Phil was the most supportive fiance in the world.

He was infinitely caring, he always did anything that Dan asked, no matter what it was or how ridiculous the request was. He did 3am ice-cream runs and he rubbed Dan's back when Dan was too busy making out with the inside of the toilet. He even called in a favour from a friend to have Dan's hair cut - he wasn't able to take hormone-replacements whilst he was pregnant, and it had been saddenning him how much he was starting to look like a girl, not like himself.

Phil did anything and everything he possibly could for Dan, and this faithful wish-granting caused Dan to cry on multiple occassions, on a daily basis. Not that he admited to Phil that that was the reason he was tearing up so often.

However ... when Dan started having contractions, Phil felt completely and hopelessly useless.

"What ... what do I do?" Phil asked, desperate to help but unsure of how.

"G-get my overnight bag ... and pass, pass me my phone."

The contractions were, thankfully, a few minutes apart. But Dan was already beginning to feel the strain, his breaths heavy and slightly wheezy, like he'd just completed a triathlon.

"Here's your phone." Phil said, handing the mobile device to Dan before rushing in to their bedroom.

Dan, ever the epitome of calm, called the nearest hospital and checked their booking, then called for a taxi - all whilst Phil frantically rushed around the apartment. Dan found it positively adorable.

And not at all irritating in even the slightest sense.

"Phil ... Phil..." Frustrated that Phil either couldn't hear him or just wasn't paying enough attention, Dan raised his voice.

"Philip Michael Lester!" He shouted, as loud as he could - which wasn't exactly banshee-loud, but it was sharp enough to catch Phil's attention, as he froze and locked eyes on Dan, staring with eyebrows raised slightly in a manner of questioning.

"I am going to be having a baby soon, okay? I really need you to be calm and collected for me."

Phil noddded.

"Good. Now, I've called the hospital - our room is all set up and ready to go, and they know we're on our way - and there's a taxi on the way. I just need your help actually getting there."

Phil nodded again, hastily, before double-checking that they had everything they would need, grabbing his phone and heading out the door to wait for the taxi.

Without Dan.

"Um, Phil ... sweetie?"

"Yeah?" Phil walked back into the room, unaware of what he'd just done.

"How are you going to take your pregnant fiance to the hospital - without your pregnant fiance?"

Phil sighed and dipped his head. He hurriedly made his way over to the couch, helping Dan to stand up, wrapping his arm around Dan's waist to help him walk.

Dan, unable to help himself, laughed.

"What's so funny?" Phil asked, pushing the button for the elevator. He seriously considered the possibility of Dan having become hysterical as a side-effect of going into labor.

"This could be lack of sleep, or my ever-so-increasing levels of pain - but it sort of just hit me and ... I don't know, I find it kind of funny."

"What does?" Phil prompted.

"I'm about to have a baby, Phil. We're about to have a baby, a child together ... we're about to be parents. It's a little ... unbelievable."

"Well you had better start believing," Phil said with a grin that stretched across his entire face.

"Because it's happening, love. We're about to add to our little family."

Dan smiled too, because despite everything else his feelings of happiness and love were taking centre-stage.

"I love you." He said, leaning his weight slightly against Phil, his head resting on Phil's shoulder.

"I love you too."

Dan gave birth to a daughter, April Louise Howell (soon to be Howell-Lester), at 8:02pm after six and a half hours of intense and agonising labour.

Dan looked and felt absolutely exhausted, practically wrecked - but seeing his beautiful daughter in his arms made everything he'd gone through worth it.

"She's gorgeous." He whispered later that night, after the doctors and nurses had left him to a peaceful room. Of course there were a few at the nurses station, and a couple of doctors on call in case of dire emergency, but in Dan's room it was pleasently vacant.

"She really is." Phil agreed.

He was sitting next to the bed, on a horribly hard, awfully bright orange chair - not that he was complaining. How could he, after all that Dan had just been through? After what he'd been through those past nine months or so?

"I can't ... she doesn't seem real ... it sounds horrible but - but I kind of can't quite belive it."

Dan laughed at the thought - how could his own daughter not be real?

"She's real, dear. Our baby girl, our little darling." Phil's expression was one of fondness and adoration - Dan guessed it matched his own.

"Our little baby girl."

Daniel Howell - or rather Daniel Howell-Lester - finally had everything he'd ever wanted.

It had taken him twenty-four years, most of his life, and a lot of blood, sweat and tears - not all figurative - but he had made it and he finally had it all.

An amazing man, who he loved and who in turn loved him back, unconditionally.

A beautiful daughter with eyes like the sky, a smile as bright as the sun and hair as vibrant as good coffee, much like his own. She had an infectious laugh and happiness that never wavered.

And of course, possibly the most important thing - Dan felt comfortable in his own skin. He felt like himself, truly himself, and that itself was one of the best feelings he'd ever experienced in his whole life.

Life had never been better, and he wondered how it ever could, when he already had everything he could ever want.