Beyond two drinks, alcohol will usually affect the quality of someone’s sleep, but it took only one ‘You’d be a good mum’ to obliterate any chance I had at any quality of sleep. After sending home a babysitter who’d clearly expected Penny to talk to her, I found blankets and a poofy, comfy looking sofa. I put on a nightie I’d pilfered from Penny’s draw and curled up while begging my brain to be quiet.

It didn’t make any sense though, I really would be a good mum! I was a good mum to Custard, I had enough stability to be a mum and I’d even liked kids before hormones had made me affectionate and emotional. Post hormones the thought of being a mum made me feel mushy and warm. Kids now were something I wanted and that I’d do a good job at. This is what I told myself repeatedly while discovering every incorrect way to be comfy on the sofa. Even when I did eventually nod off that predictably just trapped me in a series of stressful dreams I was eventually forced awake from.

In the first, I told Penny who I’d been and she hated me for not coming clean already and I never got to meet our daughter. Waking up crying sucks. In the second, I was still him, I’d never become me and there was a restraining order. I always hated dreams like that one, but a little comfort grope confirmed that my boobs were still squishy and hot and my tummy was still skinny, cute and hairless. After that I managed to sleep a little better so, in the third dream, my brain decided to treat me. Penny and I were having a picnic with two of our daughters in a park I vaguely recognized, it was idyllic, cute and gay and please, please let it happen.

Smiling when you wake up is nice, even if you’re being prodded repeatedly by a slightly sticky finger. “Can you make pancakes?”

Bleary eyed I barely managed to say “what?”

“It’s Sunday and mummy makes me pancakes on Sunday. I’d make them but the shelf is too high and mummy says I can’t use the oven, but I totally can, I’m five and a half!” A child wanted me to make pancakes. A child in Penny’s kitchen. This was… This was my daughter. I sat up a little too fast and took in the sight of her. She was adorable, with long hair in a plait she’d clearly slept in, wearing cute little cat pyjamas and holding a cuddly dog. My maternal instincts were going into overdrive but, being completely untrained, they wanted me to simultaneously hug her, make her pancakes and smoosh her somehow. Wait, were you supposed to give five year olds pancakes whenever they asked? Maybe I should ask Penny, bring her coffee in bed perhaps.

“Well shall we go and get your mummy then?”

“She was very asleep, poking didn’t work! And I want pancakes, ooh ooh, I want pancakes pleeease. I even ‘membered please!” Well, she had remembered please.

I managed not only to stand up but also to feel vaguely awake by the time I got to the kitchen, where I began the process of guessing what cupboard Penny stored baking stuff in. Bella, the cutie, had more questions. “Are you a practice mummy?”

“I don’t think so?” Pretty sure I was an actual one, what is a practice mummy?

“But you’re in mummy’s pyjamas! And only practice mummies wear those.” Were practice mummies what Penny called girlfriends who she got far enough with for them to meet Bella? Did she think I was here to practice being a mother? Five year olds are so cute but they make zero sense. I suppose that means I didn’t really have to either.

“Hmm, well do practice mummies normally make pancakes?” Checkmate, adorable five year old.

“No.” Aww, she was pouting.

I giggled at her a little. “Maybe I’m just a very good practice mummy?”

That was apparently the wrong thing to say. “No! Don’t please… If you’re a good practice mummy then you’ll go be a real mummy and you’ll leave and I won’t see you again and mummy will be sad.” 

I picked her up and did my best soothing parent noises. “Hey, hey, it’s okay, I’m not really a practice mummy and I plan to stay as long as your mummy let’s me. Shh, don’t cry and you’ll even have pancakes soon.”

I got my first feeling of domestic bliss with Bella cuddled onto my shoulder while I did my best to cook pancakes with one hand. I’d have put her down but I just couldn’t, she was too precious and feeling like her mum was too wonderful.

The only reason I eventually did put her down was because her first pancake was ready and frankly, you try and hold onto a little girl who can see and smell pancakes just out of arms reach. Thankfully I remembered that children were not known for being moderate with syrup usage, so I added a measured but apparently wildly insufficient amount of syrup. Bella complained about every one of the size, shape, colour and texture of the pancake, before eating all of it anyway and declaring it “Only twelve out of ten and not as good as mummy’s”

By now I’d made a pot of coffee and four more pancakes, with a few blueberries that Bella thought were ‘icky’ and ruining it. I popped Bella on the sofa with the cartoons she’d asked for and left to bring Penny breakfast in the bed. It was probably way too much for what was technically a first date, but it felt very cute to do and that was probably reason enough.

I knocked gently while standing next to a door Bella had definitely opened and forgot to close. “Bella, it’s too early, go back to bed hun”

“Hi, I’m, uh, not Bella. I made pancakes though. And Coffee!”

“Wait, you’re still here?” Was I supposed to have left? Oh no. “No no, that’s fine, good in fact, very good, it’s just, I’m still in bed, you’ve made me breakfast and I was too drunk last night, I’m being a terrible host.” Phew, I wasn’t being kicked out just yet.

“Penny, you’re fine, I had a lovely date and potentially am still having a lovely date?” The next morning still counts as a date as long as it’s cute.

“I’m pretty sure if we’re still on a date you’d be climbing into bed with me, you have got two plates.”

“Smooth.” I said while climbing in next to her and putting the tray across our laps.

“I take it you met Bella then? The fact you’re still here says she wasn’t too too much, I know she can be a lot.” I honestly couldn’t get enough of her, even if she was rather precocious… aren’t all five year olds precocious though? “Thankyou for making her breakfast, by the way”

This was starting to feel like the moment I should tell Penny, things were going too well and not telling only got worse from here. “It was no problem and well, she’s five, she’s gonna be five. It was cute, I like her, but uh…” How do I word this?

“Let me guess, you had a talk about practice mummy’s? It’s just what I’m calling girlfriends until I’ve managed both ‘the talk’ and to explain being gay. Nothing more than that, you let me take you on a few more dates though and you might just have me asking you to be a practice mummy, no actual parenting required though, of course.”

Okay Amy, this is it, you want this too much to ruin it by lying any more. “Okay, this is going to be a lot, so sorry in advance, but I couldn’t be a practice mummy.” 

Her face fell. “Wait, you’re not even open to the idea?”

Urgh, this was not the time for miscommunication. “No, I’m open to and interested in being your girlfriend, but that wouldn’t make me a practice mummy because, and please don’t hate me, but we’ve had sex before, we went to school together and I was him, the sperm donor.”

“You, what? You can’t be, he was, was so… and you’re all, how-”

“I didn’t track you down or anything and I promise everything I’ve told you has been true, I really did think I was a guy pretending to be a girl on a dating app. It’s just, I also happened to match with someone I’d been with before, with you. And then you mentioned your daughter and gave a pretty eye-opening assassination of the character I’d been playing for years. I then had a bit of a meltdown, worked out I was a girl and spent two plus years wondering how to tell you. I understand if you want me to leave, meeting her has been wonderful, she’s perfect.”

“Leave? What? Why? If you’re biologically her mother that changes… not a lot? I still want to date you and if you want to date me we can just, do that, still. Plus you’re clearly not an arse, so even if things don’t work out you could still see her.” I couldn’t stop smiling, she didn’t hate me! “But just to check, you are better at sex now right?”

Neither of us could stop giggling, I barely managed to get out “I honestly have no idea, not tried it as a girl, I’m pretty sure I’ll actually like it now though which has to help.”

“Well, much as I’d like to test that right now, there are pancakes in the way. Although…” Then she kissed me. A careful, delicate kiss, because of coffee cups, but I could taste her tongue, feel her lips on mine and as she pulled away her breath on my smiling cheeks. “Okay, I am going to have to check on my, well I guess our, daughter at some point, but, if it’s not too forward, I’m free this evening?” 

I just nodded and kissed her again.

Rewq

If you want the original, smuttier version of this chapter you will have to explain to Bella where her pancakes are. She was so fun to write!

My next recommendation is Apositan Artefacts by QuillRabbit. It's queer as anything and set in a rich fantasy world I can't wait to read more about, also pirates.