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Homura drifts into consciousness like a castaway washing up on shore. She isn't sure where she is or what's going on, but she knows she's lucky she made it. The room is dark but as her eyes adjust she recognizes it as her own bedroom. There's a wet towel on her forehead that was once either hot or cold but is now decidedly room temperature. The rest of her body is wet too, but she's sure that's just sweat. As her memories resurface within her still foggy mind, Homura realizes just exactly how lucky she is to be alive.
It was a stupid mistake. She was so focused on getting Tomoe out of danger that she let time resume without double checking her own safety. Homura could still hear the crunch of snapping bone as Charlotte’s jaw slammed shut on her leg. So, so stupid. And for Tomoe of all people.
Homura pushes her upper body off the bed, managing to sit up with some difficulty. She's woozy. Not a good sign. She lifts the covers and reaches down to her right leg. She feels the bare skin of her thigh just above her knee. Thank god for Tomoe. She’s the only one there who would have had the sense to grab the severed limb before it faded away with the labyrinth. She moves her hand up and reaches the point on her upper thigh where it was severed. The flesh is scarred and covered in dried blood, but connected once again. Thank god for magic too. Being down a leg would make this lap a complete wash. Instead, once she's completely healed, she might still be able to salvage it.
Homura inspects the wound again, magically enhancing her sight to make everything out in the dark. Unfortunately that's harder than it should be with the way her head is swimming, but she manages enough to get a good look. Given the level of healing she sees, Homura estimates she's been out for maybe 18 hours. Miki could have healed this in one, the lucky bitch. Well not in this timeline. She still hasn't contracted yet. At least Homura hopes. A lot could happen in 18 hours.
Speaking of which, she has to check on Madoka. Considering that she's still injured, Madoka probably hadn't contracted to save Homura’s life. Hopefully this display would dissuade her from contracting at all, but with Madoka it was always a tossup between that and her contracting specifically to prevent this from happening to anyone else.
Homura is about to try standing up when she hears the door knob twist. Madoka hasn't even gotten the door open all the way before she gasps. Homura hears an “Oh my gosh!” only a second before Madoka is by her side.
“You should lay back down. You need to rest.” Madoka puts a gentle hand on Homura’s shoulder and guides her back down onto the bed. She flicks on the lamp on the bedside table to give them a little light. “Mami-senpai said you wouldn't even be awake for another few hours. How are you feeling?”
Homura is about to say she feels fine before she realizes that's not true. Her head is still foggy. Too foggy. She shouldn't be this out of it still, not with her leg this far along.
“I'm not sure. It's hard to think,” Homura says.
“Ah, that's probably the morphine,” Madoka says as she reaches out and gently pets Homura’s head.
“Oh. Okay,” Homura says, closing her eyes and leaning into Madoka’s touch.
Homura’s eyes snap open a moment later. “Morphine?!”
Madoka recoils at Homura’s sudden volume. “Yes, Mami-senpai… ‘borrowed’ some from the hospital,” she responds sheepishly. “She said we could take some pressure off of your magic if we could relieve your pain. Save you some grief seeds.”
Homura can't tell whether that makes any sense right now. She's having trouble even seeing straight. Now that she understands what's going on she really feels it. Homura is high as balls. She looks up at Madoka, beautiful, kind Madoka, and the only thing she can think about is pulling her into the bed as well. She almost does.
“So, um, Homura… -chan…” Madoka’s cheeks are flushed and she's looking away, so she doesn't notice Homura reaching a hand out to her. “Or would you prefer… Homura… -kun?”
Homura’s hand freezes. The male honorific is like a shard of ice to her heart. Why would she ask that? Homura has been so careful. She's gone countless laps passing flawlessly. What changed? Why would she get misgendered now? Homura remembers earlier when she touched her leg. Her bare leg.
“You took off my tights…” Homura mutters the thought as it crosses her mind. Her hand drops limply to her side.
Madoka blushes even harder. “Mami-senpai said the fabric might get in the way of the healing. We left your underwear on but we… noticed.”
Homura stares up at the ceiling. She can't bear to look at Madoka right now.
“Who?” Homura quietly asks.
“J- just me and Mami-senpai. Sayaka-chan was still here but she didn't like looking at all the blood so we had her grabbing towels.” Madoka rubs her hands together. “We didn't tell her and she already went home.”
Another minor stroke of luck. Madoka and Tomoe knowing was an unnecessary complication, but salvageable. Both tended to be fairly understanding once they… well, understood. Miki on the other hand just took it as one more reason to distrust her. She had already decided Homura was a snake, so the idea that she was “lying” about her gender slotted nicely into her preconceptions. Not that she was transphobic by default, mind. When exposed to the idea under different circumstances Miki was always supportive, if a bit confused. No, she was only ever an outright bigot towards Homura in particular.
“I, um, I don't think you're weird,” Madoka says. Homura turns her head to look at her. She’s still blushing furiously but there's a small smile on her lips. “I actually… think it's pretty cool… you being a boy like this. You make a really beautiful girl.”
God, Madoka has no idea the complicated feelings she's inspiring in Homura right now. The clashing dysphoria and euphoria at being called a boy and a beautiful girl in the same breath by her favorite person make her heart do the worst kind of flips. She needs to set this straight or her soul gem is going to shatter from stress.
“I-” Homura starts but her morphine-addled brain struggles to come up with a coherent sentence. Damn it, just explain what transgender means. She's explained it before in other timelines. She just needs to remember the words she used to make Madoka understand back then. Her brain refuses to cooperate however. As Homura fumbles, Madoka keeps talking.
“I don't… I've never really liked any boys. All the guys Hitomi-chan hoped were the ones writing her love letters… or whenever Sayaka-chan would talk about Kamijou-kun… I never really got it. I just didn't see what they saw in them…” Madoka slowly, nervously, puts a hand on top of Homura’s. “But you're different! You've been protecting us, ever since you first transferred in. Warning me about the danger, watching us in all the labyrinths we went in, swooping in at the last second and saving us. Even if Sayaka-chan and Mami-senpai didn't understand, I could see it. And I appreciate everything you've done!” Madoka squeezes Homura’s hand. “I guess what I'm trying to say is you don't have to be embarrassed about it. We don't think less of you. In fact, I think you're the coolest boy I've ever met.”
Homura can't take hearing it anymore. She blurts out the first thing her drowning brain can think of.
“That's because I'm a girl!”
Madoka stares at her. It's not a look of anger or pity or disgust. Just plain confusion. In this timeline Madoka has never once heard the word “transgender” and has no idea anything like that is possible. Homura always has to be the one to explain it. It’s always a chore and always wastes more time than she can afford. She doesn't want to jump through those hoops today, especially not when she's this high. She just wants Madoka to stop looking at her like that.
“It's magic,” Homura lies. “I grew it ‘cause of magic.”
Madoka goes bug eyed. Homura can practically see the mental gymnastics going on between those ears. She's recalculating everything she just said.
“I- I'm sorry,” Madoka stammers. “We just- I was- We shouldn't have assumed…”
“It's okay. You're not used to seeing girls with penises. I understand.” Now that she's no longer being misgendered, Homura would really like to move onto another topic. Any other topic. Madoka apparently disagrees.
“Can I ask… Why?” Madoka has the decency to at least look embarrassed at this question. Apparently not embarrassed enough to hold it in though, much to Homura’s chagrin.
Homura sighs. She needs a lie that won't get her any more questions. Something that will end this awkwardness. Her drugged up brain churns as hard as it can. It somehow manages to come up with the worst possible answer.
“For sex. I'm a lesbian.” Homura can't believe the words that come out of her mouth. Why the fuck was that the first thing she thought of? Homura would smother herself with her pillow if she didn't need to somehow salvage this farce.
If Madoka was blushing before, now she's positively glowing red. Homura desperately hopes that answer was embarrassing enough to get Madoka to leave the room but she has no such luck.
“Oh... I see…” Madoka’s voice is shaking but she squeezes Homura’s hand again. “Do you… have a lot of lesbian sex?”
Oh my god, this is not happening.
Homura considers just rewinding time to get out of this. She considers it a lot. But she can't. If she does that now then she'll always wonder if maybe this absurd turn of events might have been the only way to save Madoka. And she ran away because it was embarrassing. No, she needs to push through.
“No.” Homura decides she doesn't want to risk having to describe any fictional amorous exploits and instead opts for the truth. “I haven't had any yet actually. But it pays to be prepared.”
Madoka nods as though she understands, which is a miracle considering Homura herself has no idea what the fuck she's talking about. Admittedly Homura is at a disadvantage, what with the morphine, but still.
“So you're a virgin,” Madoka says and Homura is blown away that that is what Madoka has taken from this. “Oh! Um, not that there's anything wrong with that! I'm a virgin too. You remember the stuff I said about boys earlier. Ah! But you're a lesbian so boys don't matter like that to you! Uh, I'm also a lesbian virgin! Like you!”
Madoka buries her face in her hands before she even finishes talking. Homura can at the very least rest easy knowing she isn't the only one fucking up this conversation. In fact it's kind of a relief. Seeing Madoka get so flustered and embarrassed just seems so… normal, compared to the magic and horror that fills most of the laps. Maybe this situation isn’t all bad. Homura feels a small smile creep onto her face. She tells herself it's the morphine.
“M- maybe I should just go…”
Madoka starts to walk away but Homura’s arm shoots out. She grabs Madoka's hand and holds it tight. Madoka looks down at where Homura is gripping her. Homura also looks down at their hands, then up at Madoka’s eyes. They stay there, frozen in place, staring at each other.
Madoka opens her mouth to break the silence when Homura pulls. Madoka stumbles and falls right onto the bed, on top of Homura. Homura isn't thinking anymore. Her brain has finally completely lost the battle with the morphine. She just pulls Madoka in close.
“Um! Uh! Um!” Madoka stammers in Homura’s embrace but doesn't fight against it. Homura pulls Madoka up so she's laying with her face on Homura’s chest and Homura’s chin resting in her pink hair. Homura begins petting Madoka’s hair with one hand while holding her close with the other.
“Oh! This- Um, this is-” Madoka stammers. She fidgets at first but eventually relaxes into the cuddle. “This is okay. This is… nice.”
This IS nice, Homura thinks, holding her love closer than she has in a long, long time. She doesn't care about embarrassing herself. She doesn't care about salvaging this timeline. All she cares about is feeling Madoka, in this moment. And she feels wonderful. Homura closes her eyes and just enjoys it.
Madoka feels the head pets slow to a stop and shortly after Homura’s breathing slows too. The gentle, rhythmic rise and fall of the chest beneath her lets her know that her captor has fallen back asleep. Good for her. Not that that means much for Madoka. Even in her sleep, Homura’s grip is far too solid to escape. Although Madoka isn't too upset about this. Being held in Homura’s strong arms was definitely something she was thinking about 20 minutes ago.
When she thought Homura was a boy.
Madoka cringes so hard. God, what a stupid assumption. In a world full of magic and witches then OBVIOUSLY sometimes girls can have penises. How ignorant could Madoka get. She has to apologize again once Homura sobers up. Actually, if she's really lucky, Homura might not even remember this conversation. Madoka isn't sure if morphine can make you black out like alcohol can, but she hopes.
Madoka sighs. Just when everything was starting to make sense too. All these weird feelings she’d been having about Homura, ever since they first met, had slid into place once she and Mami made their assumption. If Homura was a boy then these feelings were normal and had a name. It was a crush. For the first time Madoka had a crush on a boy. It was a relief. For years now Hitomi and Sayaka had been talking about boys and crushes and Madoka could never join in beyond the abstract “I wish I got love letters too!” Her mama had insisted she was just a late bloomer, but deep down Madoka had always been afraid that there was something wrong with her. But now she’s sure there isn’t! Here’s proof that she could get crushes on boys too!
Except Homura isn’t a boy. Homura is another girl, so this can’t be a crush.
But Homura said she’s a lesbian…
Madoka squeezes her eyes shut and pushes the thought away as hard as possible. Madoka obviously isn’t a lesbian. Obviously. She’s just a normal, average girl with nothing special about her. Being a lesbian isn’t normal. Not that Madoka has anything against lesbians! She would never judge someone about that! Like Homura! Madoka isn’t going to treat her any differently now that she knows that she… wants to have sex with girls.
Madoka gulps as a series of images flash through her mind. A series of very explicit images of exactly what Homura intends to do with her magic member. Madoka feels her face heating up. It’s normal for her to be curious about this, right? Penises are still boy parts, even when they’re on a girl. So involuntarily picturing what it would look like outside of those panties, standing at full mast is still a very straight thing to do. It’s also extremely straight to imagine said shaft penetrating a generic girl (who happens to have pink hair tied up in red ribbons) and thrusting forcefully, in and out. It’s super duper straight to imagine this going until both parties (who bear no resemblance to any real people) feel the ultimate release. And once it’s over, as the magic member slips out, dripping with semen, Homura pulls her face close and presses her lips to Madoka’s-
Stop it!
Madoka shouts at herself internally in an attempt to push the images away. Straight or not, this is getting way too lewd for her. Not that Madoka has never had lewd thoughts before. She’s still a teenager and she’s given into her hormones more than once. She’s become closer with the bathroom shower head than she thinks anyone in her family would be comfortable with. Still, it’s different with the subject of these fantasies pressed right up against her.
Very pressed up against her. In fact one part seems to be more pressed than the rest. Against her stomach Madoka feels something growing.
Oh my god, this is not happening.
The centerpiece of Madoka’s fantasies makes its presence known, swelling into a very noticeable lump beneath Madoka. It’s pushing into her through their clothes, making an indent in her tummy fat. It’s very VERY distracting. The feeling of the hard length, even with as many barriers between them as there are, sends a shiver down Madoka’s spine. Why did she have to get herself all worked up? The longing between her legs is making this so much harder to ignore. Madoka has to try very hard to resist the urge to grind into it. After all this, the last thing Homura needs is to be molested in her sleep.
Just before Madoka’s lust boils over, she gets lucky. The arm Homura is pinning her down with shifts and for a brief moment Madoka is free. She takes her chance and slips out from Homura’s grasp, sliding off the bed. She lands on her feet and stands up straight. That’s one disaster avoided.
Madoka breathes a sigh of relief before she looks down at Homura’s sleeping form. Madoka wasn’t exaggerating before. Homura is a beautiful girl. So beautiful that she can’t help but reach out and touch her cheek. The skin is soft under her finger, if a bit clammy. Madoka pets Homura’s cheek a few more times for good measure, enjoying the sensation. As she does, she looks Homura’s body up and down. Down specifically is a dangerous direction. There’s a very noticeable tent forming between Homura’s hips. Madoka has to tear her eyes away to stare down at Homura’s face instead.
As she admires Homura’s features, Madoka finds that she can’t keep her eyes off her lips. They may not be pressed together anymore, but the feelings rolling around in Madoka’s mind are still just as strong. Before she realizes what she’s doing, Madoka is leaning over, bringing her face dangerously close to Homura’s. In the moment before their lips touch, Madoka's brain fires off a single thought.
Oh shit, I think I’m a lesbian.