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Fools to the left of me, jokers to the right, here I am, stuck in the middle with you.

Summary:

Adam Pearce is a very simple man. Ever since retiring in 2014, he didn't want much excitement in his life anymore. He just wanted a nice book, a nice meal and a nice couch to sleep on. There was just one real problem with that, he was one of the first men WWE corporate called to manage Monday Night Raw. How could he pass that up? It's WWE, the very same company he spent some time under as enhancement talent. He felt a sort of obligation to agree. He started in WWE. He bled in WWE. How could he say no? 

Six years later, Adam sits in his office, head in his hands and dreading most of his job. Before he could actually set up a match for tonight's show, an email slides into his inbox with a small "ping!" noise coming from his laptop.
It's going to be a long afternoon.

Notes:

Well, here it is. My first fic. A lot of people compare it to a child but I see it more as a nice meal.
This fic was birthed off a joke my dad and I have watching Raw where Adam always has a drink in his hand offscreen due to the general mayhem of WWE.

Please note that I'm not writing about the actual people and only of their on-screen persona. Think of it like playing with action figures in the living room.

Work Text:

"Dearest Mr. Pearce," The email reads, immediately giving off the energy of Hunter writing this behind his cushy desk, tacky little knick knacks and mini replica titles taking too much space. It made him utterly sick. He hated Hunter. Utterly despised the man. If he weren't writing these checks Pearce would walk right up to his office and really teach him a lesson on wrestling. But he did indeed write the checks. He did indeed give him a job so that was off the table. He snaps out of the daydream and continues reading:
"We at World Wrestling Entertainment have learned of Monday Night Raw and the complaints workers have been submitting behind the curtain. If you can not handle the people, maybe we'll consider someone else as general manager. You have until the end of Raw until I come down there and check on things myself." Shit. He has until the end of the night to clean things up around here and he knew exactly the three Helmsley was talking about.

 

The arena tonight was small. Some no-name hockey team must call this home, the poor bastards. It can barely handle a wrestling ring. But no matter. He knew exactly where Liv and Dom would be. Somehow, The Judgement Day bought a bunch of props and called it a clubhouse and that's exactly where the lovebirds would be. Turns out his guessing skill was better than his handling a show skill as there the two were, making out on some cheap collection of fabric and string they try and call a couch. He clears his throat. "Dom, Liv, what did we say about displays of affection in a public place?" Dom nearly jumps out of his faux leather cowboy boots. "You can't just sneak up on us, man! We were training!" Adam almost cracked a smile but decided to keep the strict gaze he usually donned before a show. It reminded him of his old wrestling days in a weird way, looking at himself in the mirror and frowning a very specific way that made his eyebrows stand out. "Last time I checked, almost screwing on this.." He gestures to the couch, covered in beer stains and a grey spot that never seems to leave. "Thing wasn't in the training regimen." Liv tried to open her mouth but Dom shot first. "It's.. It's a new one. We were done with training anyways! Leave us alone!" Dealing with the Judgement Day by themselves was bad enough but dealing with Dom felt like pulling teeth. Liv? Manageable. Raquel? Easy as pie. Finn and JD? They usually kept each other in enough order to where he doesn't need to interfere. Dom was different. "Sure, kid. Get off each other and at least try and prepare for tonight." Liv sighs, grabbing Dom by the shirt and whispering something that made his legs turn to jelly. Well, that was them dealt with.

 

The Vision are a bunch of cowards. They're cowards in and out of the ring. They always try and hide behind Paul Heyman or higher management. It also doesn't help that Heyman keeps going behind his back and making matches. He had no clue where they were and almost didn't want to find them. Then he found them in catering, yapping about their new plans to mess with the roster or how 'cool' Austin  was with his new haircut (Not that Pearce could talk about bald heads.) He scans the room until focusing in on Heyman on his phone. He slowly wanders to the advocate's side, hiding his hands in the pockets of his blazer. "You're late." Heyman claps his phone shut and shoves it in his pocket. "Pearce! Just the man I wanted to-" Adam cut him off. "I'm not here to talk. I'm here to warn you that one more mishap from your boys over there and you'll end up on vacation." Heyman started to sweat. Good to know he still got it. "Yessir. No problems here, sir. I'm just.. Working things out." Pearce squinted his eyes a tad, almost squeezing the many lies out of Paul. "Mmhm. I'm giving you ten minutes to explain things. Get out there." Heyman nods, rounds his little goons up and walks out of catering. 

 

Once Becky turned into The Man, she always was a pain in Adam Pearce's rear. She was loud, arrogant and somehow always targeting him. She always announced her entrance backstage with a shrill "The Man has come around!" that drilled into his head. But tonight was different. Tonight was scary. He had no clue where she was. Becky hadn't announced any entrance at all. Either she wasn't here or she was hiding somewhere. Thinking the second one was the right answer, he decided to treat himself to a tradition he and Aldis created. A little liquid courage before a show. It was nice, cleared his head. Somehow Aldis always found the real fancy stuff, no dime store liquor here. But when he arrived back to the small yet cozy office, he found a padlock connected to his cabinet. "Son of a bitch." He whispered. 

Upon further investigation, The Man was around. She was around his cabinet. She locked up his whiskey. 

It's going to be a long show, no doubt about that one.