Work Text:
Fuck
The word had been replaying in Debbie’s mind from the moment she saw Mark’s new secretary, turned girlfriend, walk up to her ex and baby boy. Seeing Mark looking so content and put together while she was still struggling; how did that work?
It was a shuddering fuck when Susan walked up to the boys. A heartbroken and quiet fuck as she walked back to her car. An overwhelmed and annoyed fuckin’ Christ when she watched a boisterous Dawn and Stacy walk into the locker room.
A slow, drawn out fuuuuuck when the booze from Sam’s flask burned down her throat, followed by a deep and solid oh, fuck. when she found the small packet in his smokes; a strange and sharp fuck when the coke really hit.
After that, everything became a silent blur. Debbie didn’t fully comprehend what was coming out of her mouth or what her body was doing. All she truly remembered was scattered feelings being trampled by rage, and the vague chanting of “Liberty Belle”.
Then the crack of a bone and Ruth screaming her name brought the world into silence and the repetitious fucks came roaring back like a jackhammer.
She stared down at Ruth, a steady stream of fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck playing through her mind as she tried to piece the last five minutes together, while also trying to figure out if this was Ruth really getting into the bit and desperately trying to drown out the resounding crack that rang in her ears.
She rocked back and forth in place as she watched Russel carry Ruth out the door and the girls follow him. Soon after the doors slammed shut and the girls’ voices, mixed with Ruth’s cries dimmed to silence, Debbie felt the full weight of the audience’s stare and quickly climbed out of the ring, making her way to the locker room with her head down.
Debbie forced her mind to quiet as she allowed Liberty Belle to wash away with the Aquanet and make up. Even Bash’s flustered interruption and rambling couldn’t break the silence until he quietly offered “maybe it’s just a sprain” and the sharp crack snapped back full force into her ears.
For once, she was truly thankful for Bash’s need to fill the stillness because the chatter in her mind was starting to drive Debbie crazy. They were nearly to the hospital and she still had no idea what to say…to anyone.
A self-conscious and shaken fuck popped into her head when she walked into the waiting room and felt the full force of the judgement in her fellow wrestlers’ eyes. Debbie tried to come up with the right words to say, to explain that it really was an accident; she may have focused her rage and emotion on Ruth, but she never meant to actually hurt her. Nothing came and Debbie sighed in relief when the topic of Ruth’s insurance came up and she could focus on silencing the genuine and concerned oh, fuck.
Her shoulders relaxed for a quick moment when Sam told them that the doctor believed Ruth to have a sprain and watched from her still position as the rest of the girls filed out. She told herself that she didn’t owe them any kind of explanation, but she knew she owed Ruth something, and hoped the lack of hard stares and the silence would help her formulate the proper words.
A startled and anxiety filled fuck shook Debbie when Sam hit her with a look, said, “She’s in room 3.” and her prep time was cut short. Everything she needed and wanted to say slammed into her with such force that nothing other than hollow platitudes seemed to make it out. She nearly found the courage to speak under Ruth’s hurt and questioning gaze just as the doctor came in with Ruth’s x-ray.
A genuine and core shaking fuck pulled Debbie full into reality when she saw the break. How in the hell did she break a bone?! However, in true Debbie Eagan fashion, she tried a cavalier approach to comfort, which had never worked with Ruth.
And then came the screaming match. While Debbie was shocked by the hurt and anger that still controlled her, the sharp anger and deep resentment coming from Ruth, along with the validity behind them really hit Debbie.
The stream of aimless fucks became almost cacophonous as Ruth laid on fact after fact of the true nature of their friendship, even before the Mark shit-storm hit. Debbie was never good at accepting her faults and having them shouted at her with such pinpoint accuracy threw her past any comebacks.
She found an odd comfort in the “fuck you” as it gave her cause to leave and she let her feet take her where they chose, fully believing that she was going home to stay.
The first amused fuck of the evening came when she found herself steering her car into the parking lot of the GLOW-tel, and another when she crossed the threshold into Ruth’s room.
The unexpected solace she found in Sheila’s words; and the slight heart skip at “they always end up back together” almost overruled the exasperated fuck that gripped Debbie as she broke down again. Another shock came when she found comfort in Sheila’s suggestion to take Ruth’s clothes herself, though she couldn’t stop the impulse to cover it in false vanity.
For the first time in what seemed like years, Debbie felt truly nervous entering a room; her knuckles barely grazing the door and her voice shaky. She had hoped Ruth would be alone again, instead staying mostly silent until she could find a way to dismiss the men.
Debbie was surprised at the genuine relief she felt at Ruth’s guarded but permissive nod to sign her cast and hoped that Ruth would understand that the apology extended beyond just her ankle.
“Alright, gentlemen,” Debbie said, finding her voice and opportunity. “Time to let the ladies get ready.”
“Debbie, I—” Ruth mumbled.
“Ruth. Just let me help, alright?” Debbie cut in, almost pleadingly and carefully proceeding at Ruth’s short nod.
Debbie helped Ruth pull off the top part of her costume in silence, trying to recapture the words she had rehearsed, while attempting to maintain a respectful gaze. It was nothing she hadn’t seen before, but like everything else in their relationship, the rules had changed.
For a hot second, everything felt back to normal when Debbie moved to pull Ruth’s light green top over her head, and Ruth laughed softly, saying “Debbie, I didn’t break my arms,” allowing Debbie a light chuckle. She moved down to Ruth’s legs, which in turn, allowed reality to come slamming back once again.
“Ruth, I—” Debbie started after a couple quick breaths, keeping her eyes on Ruth’s cast. “I need you to know that this really was an accident.”
“I know,” Ruth’s voice was so soft, Debbie almost didn’t hear it, but she did believe the authenticity of her words.
“Honestly, I don’t really remember most of the match,” Debbie rolled her eyes at her own unnecessary defensiveness, immediately trying to tamp it down.
“It was terrifying…” Ruth answered quietly, causing Debbie’s heart to pound and a guilt-ridden fuck… to flash through her.
“Uhm I saw Mark and Randy before the taping,” she chanced a glance at Ruth, seeing an understandable mixture of cautious curiosity. “And with them was Mark’s new girlfriend.”
“Fuck. I’m so sorry,” Ruth responded, and Debbie laughed lightly at the sincerity in Ruth’s voice.
“Well, it’s to be expected, I guess,” Debbie shrugged, fiddling with the cloth lining of Ruth’s cast. “Anyway, it just really fuckin’ threw me and when I was getting ready in Sam’s office,” Debbie needed to pause and steel herself; Ruth deserved to know, but guilt gripped Debbie tighter than she expected. “And, uh, I found…you know… ‘stuff’ in his cigarettes…”
“Oh, Debbie,” Ruth sighed, and Debbie shook, because in true Ruth style, it was almost apologetic. “From the moment you rolled, I knew something was off. I should have stoppe—”
“Ruth, don’t. Please,” Debbie didn’t know what she expected from Ruth, but she couldn’t handle her apologizing for something she didn’t actually do. “This one isn’t on you. I am sorry my stupid fucking decision hurt you,” Shit, why was this so hard? Debbie knew the things she needed to say; not just to begin to mend things with Ruth, but also for herself. She’s held on so tightly to the anger because it had quickly become her only constant, but she needed to let it go if she ever wanted to move on. “And you were right,” she glanced up at Ruth, only getting as high as Ruth’s own fidgeting hands. “I have been punishing you for Mark…even more than I’ve punished Mark. I guess it just hurt more that it was you.”
“Debbie, I’m—”
“No, not yet. I’m not done,” Debbie chuckled self-deprecatingly. This part she hadn’t planned, but deep down, she felt the regret, reliving the moment when Ruth called her out earlier. “That, uh, bullshit with that fuckin asshole executive—”
“Tom Grant?”
“Yeah...” Debbie could feel herself losing steam under Ruth’s gaze, but pushed herself forward. “Honestly, I was just so jealous—”
“Jealous?!” Debbie could see the confused indignation building in Ruth’s eyes. “Because he wanted –”
“Because you got out,” Debbie interrupted, nearly shouting. “Do you know how many meaty paws I’ve had on my thighs, or my ass? How many times I’ve had to grin and play off disgusting remarks?” Debbie took advantage of her courage and looked up at Ruth, whose eyes now showed only curiosity. “I am jealous that you had the courage to leave,” she took a final deep breath before continuing. “No one would blame you for getting out of there, despite the consequences…”
“I’m sorry you ever had to deal with that,” Ruth offered.
“Yeah, well, I am not alone,” Debbie felt herself growing uncomfortable under Ruth’s stare.
“But it shouldn’t—”
“No, it shouldn’t happen, but it does,” Debbie said with finality. She took a moment to really look at Ruth and couldn’t stop the small laugh that burst out when she truly took in the sight before her. Ruth, with her light green top pulled just under her chest, her hair falling, the sleeves of her costume awkwardly sticking out at her hips where she still wore it, and a giant cast rounding out the look. “I guess we should finish getting you changed before Sam and Bash think I smothered you,” She could see that Ruth clearly had something she wanted to say, instead shooting Ruth a pleading look to save it for another time. Between coming down from the drugs and the emotions, Debbie wasn’t sure she could handle more.
“You ready?” Debbie asked, her hands gripping the costume at Ruth’s hips. At her nod, Debbie gently slid the costume down as Ruth did an odd shimmy, attempting to help Debbie to the best of her ability, and causing them both to awkwardly laugh. With the costume off, Debbie bent back to Ruth’s feet, working the pant leg over the cast as carefully as he could, and getting them as high as Ruth’s thighs before gently clearing her throat. “I, uh, think you’ll need to stand…” she trailed off, wondering if her voice sounded as shaky as it felt. Ruth nodded, carefully inching forward until her toes touched the floor. Ruth got to her feet as comfortably as she could, gripping Debbie’s upper arms for stability as the blonde pulled her pants the rest of the way up.
“Oh, uh, hold on,” Debbie moved her hand to grasp Ruth’s forearm as she reached for the wheelchair at the edge of the bed. As she watched Ruth ease herself into the chair, Debbie gathered the last bit of bravery she could muster before it all fell away. “I think, maybe, we could be at the point of getting drinks…next week…or something…if the offer still stands.”
Even though Debbie kept her eyes trained on her shoes, she could practically feel Ruth’s eyes on her face. “Yeah, I think that would be nice.”
The relief of acceptance hit Debbie in the gut harder than she expected, and she allowed the light smile to grow on her face, but still wiping the tears away before they could fall too far.
She pushed the wheelchair to the door, not fighting Sam’s need to take over, instead grabbing the crutches and following the group down the hall; silently relishing in the calm she hadn’t felt in months.
They decided to load Ruth into Debbie’s car because it had the most leg room, despite it taking two and half people to get her into the passenger seat. After watching Bash return the wheelchair and agreeing to meet at the hotel, Debbie climbed into the driver’s seat, soon feeling Ruth’s light touch, and an even lighter whispered “thank you”; and at that moment, an entirely new and different kind of fuck hit Debbie squarely in the chest as it paired with a skip in her heart, a hitch in her breath, and a persistent tingling where Ruth’s hand had been.
In the stillness of the drive, Debbie began to play with new theories as to why Ruth’s betrayal hurt so much more than Mark’s, and the more they made sense, the more her mind raced.
Fuck.