Bestfriend's secret

by neurodox

This is a Phan-y fiction where Phil is a girl. Not like hes Phil but hes a she, like her name is Phoebe and she is the lady-phil. Like lady-loki, but Philip. It is probably going to be super fluffy and there may be some smut (sorry not sorry). WARNING ahead of time I rated T but depending on where this goes it may end up M so if you'tr scared of that, just a heads up :)

1. Chapter 1

POV: Mixed
Prompt: Phil is a lady, here. like lady loki but lady philip.
Disclaimer: though it brings happiness, im sorry to say phan is fictional. also i dont own danisnotonfire or amazing phil (not even as pets, sigh)

Dan's POV:

I'm sitting here again in the middle of the night at my desk on Tumblr. The internet's down though, so I'm just leaning my head in my hand and waiting. There's lightening, but no thunder, and I know that there's a storm going on somewhere in the distance. I think of that instead of the thoughts that are already jumping around in my mind. Thoughts about Phoebe. I don't want to complicate things with her, I really don't.

We're flat mates, our lives are on YouTube, we broadcast for BBC Radio 1 every Sunday, and we're where we are because of our friendship. The last thing we need is a relationship and drama. It's not like there's a chance anyways, of a relationship. I mean, even if she did fancy me she'd know that it'd be too much-and she obviously doesn't anyways. So I just sit here and think of the lightning and how it reminds me of her clear blue eyes that twinkle, but never run, when she's sad. It's so cliché, and sappy, but it's also exactly what the fans want.

I give up on the internet and flop over onto my bed and let my mind scroll to everything I've not wanted to think about. Phoebe, my self-image, being a drop out, where my life is heading, the fans and the hate… I flip over and stick my face in a pillow and hate myself for having to hold back tears of frustration. I have to do something about this, at least a part of it.

Phoebe's POV:

The sun tells me to wake up around noon when it's finally made its way over the flat. I moan and flip over, hitting my head on my laptop. I scrunch my nose, brush my bangs out of my face and rub sleep out of my eyes. I grab my Mac and prop it on my lap, scooting up. Hello, internet.

About half an hour (and halfway down my pillow) later I hear Dan in my doorway, clearing his throat.

I yelp, "Oh my goodness, Dan," I scoot back up my pillow, only a teeny bit embarrassed of the double chin I probably had in my natural internetting position. "How long have you been creeping on me?"

"Only long enough to make the decision of whether to be nice or say 'we're out of cereal, be my bitch and go get me some more.'" He smiles and I smile back because he's perfect. Flipping over the side of my bed, I can reach my hand under and pull out some Shreddies from my stash. I toss them at him.

"Jesus Christ!" He flings his body out of the way of the box flying at him. "What was that for?" He fights cracking a smile.

I know he's only joking because he's pretty clumsy, like me, so I say, "Only trying to murder you with this extremely frightening box of cereal." He sticks his tongue out and me and bends over to pick the box up before parading out of my doorway towards the kitchen. I like his boxers today. I slam my head into my pillow and mutter to the fabric, "What. The. Heck, Phoebe."