Who: Ellie MacFusty & Meaghan McCormack What: Therapeutic fighting When: November 4th Where: Ellie’s office Warnings: PoP Fight Club, swearing. So much swearing. And light violence. Obviously.
Ellie cursed throwing her mug at the wall. It made a next shattered next to the hole of punching she made after the news about MacDonald. Even after going out last night, which hit the alcohol and orgasm buttons, there was still this restlessness to her. She needed a fight. And she was just as likely to punch the next person who said the wrong thing to her as she was to put another hole in the wall. But that wasn’t as fulfilling because the wall couldn’t punch back.
Meaghan wasn't looking for a fight. She wasn't looking for a shag, she wasn't looking for a drink. If she was looking for anything at all, she couldn't've told you what. Maybe a change. Maybe an explanation. Maybe someone to laugh and say, "Ha ha we really got you didn't we? Cap's not out for the Classic, that'd be total bullshit and we'd never let it happen."
Whatever it was she wanted, she wasn't getting it. That's the problem with these healery types, these so-called experts, they never gave you what you really needed. Waste of time even talking to 'em. Coach was a Quidditcher, though. She knew. So Meaghan went to her office, pushed through the door without knocking, and said, "Why?"
'Cause you went to the source when you wanted to know. Anything else was a Godricdamned waste.
Ellie turned, the mug just barely in pieces on the ground. “Because Maggie got Cav on her side.” And wasn’t that what it came down to? Let’s just blame the medic and all her logical thinking she knew what the human body could and could not handle. Especially when she lied in her medic speak two to three matches. Ellie knew that meant January.
“And I can’t fucking tank someone else’s career way I tanked mine.” She didn’t regret it. That was mantra she kept telling herself. It made it bearable to live with the place she was now. Watching on the sidelines, but not able to play. Then Gwen goes and drops that little thought in her head. Just fueled the rage and the unhinged feeling in her gut. “But sod all for the good it does us now.”
"Fuck him 'n' fuck her," Meaghan said. What'd medics know anyway, or managers that weren't even good enough to really play? It wasn't their life, it couldn't be, so they couldn't understand. She didn't want MacDonald to hafta retire or anything, 'cause what was life after Quidditch? What'd you even do? She wouldn't wish that on anyone.
But Cap had been on the team since Meaghan started school, and she'd been captain almost since Meaghan signed up herself. She was a legend and a fixture, just like Catriona McCormack had been in her time. She was a mountain. You couldn't replace a mountain. Nothing else was enough.
She pushed her hair back from her face, combing her hands back through until they got stuck. It didn't take long. "Fuckin' fuck… I dunno how to play without her that long, Coach."
It was one thing to be angry. It was a whole other bag of shit to have that negative self talk. The team was already in a delicate spot, she couldn’t let McCormack spiral. Absolutely not. Ellie was shutting that down right away. “You’re Meaghan Fucking McCormack, you don’t need any of that shit to be that.”
And if that words weren’t enough, the shoulder push, shove really, certainly might shake something loose. “C’mon!”
"It ain't shit!" Meaghan said, frustrated and pushing back without thinking. Yeah, this was the coach and she'd call her that, but she'd only been coach for a couple months. Before that she'd just been Ellie MacFusty, her teammate both on the Prides and for the Worlds, and while Meaghan wasn't formal or respectful with anyone it was especially hard to remember to kinda pretend to be with someone who went back as far as Ellie. There wasn't even anyone else left on the team from back then except Meaghan and Cap herself. "You know how they been going after keepers this year and no one else blocks like her. They're gonna come for me hard and I can't fuckin' do my job if they knock me outta the pitch!"
“What you’re scared?” She was raising her voice, not quite yelling, but certainly louder. Ellie was only a responsible adult in expected title. Her approach to most things was unconventional. Coaching was not going to be different. Add that to the fact that coaching Meaghan was a whole other beast.
“What little McCormack can’t take a hit?” Ellie shoved her harder. Without words she was challenging her, but a round of fistacuffs always did some good.
Meaghan flushed. She wasn't good at emotions, she wasn't good at admitting she was worried or didn't think she could do something. She probably wouldn't have admitted it to any other coach. But now she'd admitted it she was embarrassed about saying it, and mad about being embarrassed, so she shoved Ellie back even harder than before. "I can fuckin' take a hit just fuckin' fine," she snapped. "But I can't fuckin' take all the hits anyfuckingmore than you could."
There was a time and place for rational thought. It was not now. As she stepped back to catch herself, she was already swinging. Considering how close she was to boiling over, it was a controlled well aimed jab for Meaghan’s stomach. Most people went for the face but that was a beginner’s mistake.
“Well let’s fucking see, McCormack.”
Retired or not, older or not, Ellie moved too fast for her to get out of the way entirely when she wasn't expecting a punch -- though maybe she should've since she knew what would piss Ellie off, and she'd gone on and said it anyway, or on purpose, or whatever. But Meaghan was a reacter, not a planner, and why the hell should she expect a fight when she wasn't planning on a fight?
There was time to jump back, which she did, and twisted to minimize it, but it still stung plenty. She swung back on Ellie immediately, more to keep her back for a second than because she thought it'd really land well.
Ellie might not be able to play professionally, but she would still fight someone every day. And she had been fixing for a fight for a days. She saw the hit coming and didn’t move to dodge. “C’mon you can do better than that because if this what you got maybe I should bench you and play our reserve. ‘Specially if you’re going to be a firstie about it.”
Now that was a low blow. Meaghan swung with her left, wildly, too mad to aim proper. Aiming like that wasn't a keeper thing anyways. “That won't win you nothin', just bust a tiny head,” she spat. Swing and another miss. “That baby ain't up for it!” And she shot a straight left, faster this time, straight for Ellie’s jaw, not caring if it’d split her damn knuckles, just wanting to break a face.
And fuck if Ellie didn’t want her face broken. The hit rattled her whole jaw, teeth slicing into her gums to draw up enough blood to spit. “Least that baby ain’t scared. He hungry.” She wound back for cross jab to Meaghan’s nose. Best for them to be equals here.
The punch hit her dead-on and for a second all that Meaghan could think was fuck that hurt, and her hand hurt, but the thing that made Meaghan maddest, even more than the blood running from her nose or the blood Ellie spit, was that dig about the reserve, like she was the problem here when she was the one who was fuckin' killing it on the pitch every damn match.
"Hungry ain't nothin' if that's all you got," she shouted and she threw all her weight at Ellie.
Meaghan had the slight height and weight advantage, along with Ellie could be unstable on her feet on good days. It didn’t take much to send her back, hard, into the desk. Papers went everywhere and her moose and dragon figurines clattered to the ground.
Ellie blinked a few times, the adrenaline propelling her forward. It was the first time her head felt clear. “Hungry...young, scrappy.” She leveraged her own weight back, throwing it at Meaghan to tackle her to the ground. This was the woman who when she wasn’t a dragon, proudly called herself a human bludger.
Meaghan landed on the floor with a grunt and Ellie on top of her, but it didn't stop her for more than a moment. They had damn near a death grip on each other but they pushed and struggled across the floor. "Puny, inexperienced, oughta be in nappies," she said, blood dripping from her nose onto Ellie's face and on the floor. Let it get on the floor! It wasn't her Godricdamned fancyass can't-play-anymores office so who gave a shit?
“Sure you ain’t talking about yourself?” As the tumbled on the floor, Ellie got enough momentum to slam Meaghan into her desk legs. It wasn’t mahogany, but it was solid as shit. “Come crying because cap is out?” Blood on her face, and clothes a bit ruffled on their way to ripped, Ellie simply didn’t care. Not when every urge was just telling her to keep fighting. To chase the clarity of adrenaline.
In the position they were in, there was one option to break the grapple. Well, two. But head butting Meaghan seemed more instantly rewarding (and also painful) than trying to knee her.
"Everyone's fucking worried -- fuck!" There was no dodging when you were that close, Meaghan didn't even have a chance. It'd been ages since anyone headbutted her and it hurt just as much as ever, but she gritted her teeth and kicked out as hard as she could, then launched herself after, away from the floor and whatever the hell was crunching at her back. She wasn't gonna give Ellie enough breathing room for any more big hits if she had any choice.
There was a beat to breathe before she launched herself back at Meaghan. Ellie was driven by pure desperation. The world was spiraling out of her control and at least this gave her focus. Although a strange sort of focus where time didn’t quite matter .
It could have been hours, but it was probably just minutes before she rolled over on her back. Panting she tried to catch her breath only half concerned that Meaghan might want to go for a bonus round.
“Okay. Fuck. Truce?” She was in quite a state, hair all over the place, earrings still where they ought to be, and blood that was a good mix of hers and Meaghan’s. Not to mention a good handful of blossoming bruises, but she felt oddly calm.
Meaghan paused, then hit Ellie in the face one more time. "Truce," she agreed breathlessly, rocking back against the wall and just out of easy reach, just in case. Her hair was half pulled from her ponytail, and she wouldn't be surprised if some'd actually been pulled from her head. Her brain was more awake than it'd been all day but she still found herself yawning, which hurt. She felt along her mouth with her tongue. "Dyou knock outta tooth?"
Ellie held up her hands squinting at the very distinct bite marks on her knuckles. “Possibly.” She rubbed her face, before looking at Meaghan and she couldn’t help but grin. Good fight could fix a lot of things.
One of those things are not the gigantic mess her office had become. Tidying could come later. Right now there were more important things. She rolled over with a groan, pushing herself to her knees so she had enough reach to grab her wand, which gave her quite the twinge in her side.
“Whiskey’ll make it better.” The bottle zipped over to her. Ellie wasted no time popping the top and taking a pull. Civil people might use glasses, she just handed Meaghan the bottle.
"Not too much better I hope or MacDougal won't have much to do," Meaghan said, testing that theory. Her grin was sore but still felt plenty grinny. Maybe she had come here for a fight after all.
“Fuck MacDougal,” it was the automatic response. Not the adult one, but Ellie still felt it was true. The anger was still there, but simmering gently. “Good news you still got a bit of fight left in you -- MacDonald or no. Although we might have to work on your situation awareness some, getting sucker punched.”
"You got too," Meaghan pointed out, just as maturely. Though Ellie did have a point. "Only that's the problem innit, I ain't usually gotta watch it that hard with MacDonald 'round covering half the pitch." Imagine if Cap had trained keeper instead of beater. No one would've had a prayer of getting 'round her. "An' I know it too. S'trust, innit? Ain't got that with Cameron yet."
Meaghan wasn’t wrong. It wasn’t unfounded, which was she was making Cav go through extraordinary hopes to solve this problem. “You trust me? You trust Luag?” She didn’t ask about Cameron. Ellie didn’t trust her, wasn’t going to play her if she could help it. “I might not get to be out there anymore, but I have you.”
She took another pull, enjoying the sting and considering what Ellie said. "Yeah, okay." Maybe she didn't trust Luag as high as she did MacDonald, but that wasn't his fault. They'd played together a few years and he was solid. He just wasn't a mountain yet. But between him and Ellie, Meaghan guessed that was enough trust to get her by.
Ellie gently bumped Meaghan’s shoulder before taking the bottle back. “Fuck right, just gotta stay out of that damn head of yours.” She took a long pull. The adrenaline burning off now, and the alcohol giving a soft feel to the room and her injuries, she could, for a moment, pretend everything was going to work out. And magically too without it all get worse first. “MacDonald might have been the heart, but you’re my protector, my force. I’ll get a new heart, can’t get a new Meaghan.”
Meaghan took the bottle back a bit more grabbily than usual. It was a serious situation, wanting a drink and needing to hide your face. "Psh," she said after a moment. "Sap." And she bumped Ellie back.