Puella Magi Madoka Magica - Junko and Madoka

[lirillith]

Title: Turn, Turn, Turn
Fandom: Puella Magi Madoka Magica
Characters: Junka
Word count: 1100 words
Rating: PG
Warnings: Fix-it fic
Summary: Madoka graduates from high school.
Notes: A Rarewomen treat forinklesspen

****

Junko isn't waiting up, exactly; she went in to the office, after the graduation ceremony, and of course that kept her late. She just wanted a drink, after she came home and had dinner and a bath, and Madoka wasn't home yet. Still out with all her friends, or maybe just with Homura, and Junko can't blame her. It's not like you never see your closest friends again after high school, but things change, and it's good to mark these milestones.

 

She's not waiting up, but she's not not waiting up. She's nursing her drink, meandering through her thoughts. She remembers her own high school graduation, how she'd been excited, and a little melancholy, and at the same time brashly dismissive. She could see her friends whenever she wanted. Nothing was going to change, they'd all agreed, posing for pictures together, back when cameras still had film.
But Kazuko's the only one of her friends from high school she sees anymore. Which of Madoka's friends will she still know in twenty years? Who's she going to meet at college who will be more important than any of them? A boy? A girl? Junko's betting on the latter, but she hasn't really talked about it with Tomo, and Madoka hasn't said anything.
She's too lost in her thoughts to hear the door open, but she hears Madoka pad in. Still in her school uniform; she'd dropped her diploma at home but apparently hadn't changed. Might as well hang onto it, when you're saying goodbye. "You didn't need to wait up, Mom."
When did it stop being Mama? One minute you're waddling around the house, terrified of what things will be like the baby comes out and equally terrified that it never will, and the next you're putting her hair into pigtails and tying them with ribbons for her first day of kindergarten, and the day after that she's pulling it back into one ponytail herself and putting on makeup without any help. I wasn't waiting up, she thinks, but she says, "Sure I did. This is a special occasion."
Madoka glances at the clock, and smiles. "It's after midnight. I think it stopped being a special occasion about ten minutes ago."
"Spoilsport." Junko gets up, and opens the fridge. If she'd planned ahead at all, she'd have bought a bottle of champagne, but they'll have to improvise. She remembers a time, back when Madoka was in middle school, when they talked about drinking together someday. Things hadn't been going so well — one of her friends was being bullied, another was fighting with someone — and Junko remembers thinking, at the time, that she wouldn't trade places with her daughter for anything. She doesn't want to ask if Madoka remembers.
She pours soda over ice, then adds a splash of bourbon which is really too good for such treatment. But hey, she's always made sure to provide the best for her kids. "Here you go," she says, setting it down in front of Madoka's usual seat before going back to her own.
"Underage drinking?" Madoka says, with just a hint of teasing in her tone. She's always been such a good kid. She sits down, though, and picks up the glass in both hands like it's a magic potion, or maybe poison.
"You gotta start sometime," Junko says. "Might as well be when you're celebrating." She takes a sip of her scotch. Celebrating, or remembering. Watching your daughter be young, and feeling a little old; happy about her and for her, for her wide-open life and unmade choices, and a little melancholy, not exactly in a bad way, about the fact that's all past for you.
She keeps her mouth shut, mostly, and listens to Madoka talk. Homura's the one she spends the most time with, anymore, but the news is all about her oldest friends: Hitomi and Sayaka finally patched things up, in honor of graduation and all. Madoka recaps some of what went on, throwing in some little details she never mentioned before. The problem was about some boy, but Junko never knew it was the same boy who used to be a musician, the one who hurt his hand back in middle school. And now he's not with either of them, though Madoka thinks he and Hitomi might get back together. "He sounds like kind of a handful to me," Junko says.
"Me too," Madoka admits. "Sayaka thinks it's because he was so upset about not being able to play guitar anymore. He tried to teach her..." And probably resented her for being able to play when he couldn't, and also for being a beginner and not as good as he'd been after all his practice. Junko can see how it'd go. She remembers Madoka asking for advice when Sayaka was crying on her shoulder about it.
"I never knew that was the same boy the whole time," Junko muses out loud.
"Yeah, Sayaka really..." Madoka hiccups, and then giggles, and Junko smiles.
"Another?"
"Is that hokey? Okay? Bluh?" Madoka's laughing at herself and her tangled tongue, and Junko's just laughing. Her daughter's half-grown, but not so grown she can't get tipsy off one drink. It's a little sad not to have a baby anymore, but it's better, having a friend, and knowing you didn't do so bad, all in all.
"It's okay, but maybe you better just have some water first." And see if she falls asleep before she can finish it. She gets up to find a glass and a coaster. "What's the news with Homura? Did her parents make it to the graduation?"
"They did! Her dad. He did. Not her mom."
"Aw."
"Mama," Madoka says, as Junko's filling the glass with water.
"Yeah?" Junko says, rather than turn around and risk her tipsy daughter catching her teary-eyed.
"Remember way back... middle school? We were talking about me drinking up... I mean growing up. And drinking. With you."
"I remember," Junko says. She hands the glass to her daughter, her baby girl, and rubs the top of her head like she's a little kid. Madoka squinches up her nose and eyes, either too drunk or too happy to manage a real frown. Maybe both. Junko goes back to her seat, her own glass and its melting ice. Madoka's staring spacily at her water.
Then she snaps out of it, and smiles at her mother, the one thing about her face that's never changed. "I'm glad," Madoka says. "It's fun, drinking with you."
"I'm glad too," Junko says softly, and lifts her glass to clink it against Madoka's.