Chapter Text
“Have you guys noticed,” Tim asked, “that Elias never dress codes us?”
“This isn’t secondary school, Tim,” Jon snapped. “Of course he doesn’t.”
“No, no, he’s right,” Martin input nervously. “When I worked in Research, I wore a t-shirt to work one day and Elias made me put on a shirt from a box of button-ups he keeps in his office.”
“Wish I had one of those,” Jon muttered, casting a disdainful glance at Martin’s jeans.
Martin crossed his arms defiantly. Jon had mellowed considerably since coming back from his little stint as a murder suspect, and his little quips and jabs no longer held the same bite they used to. Or maybe Martin had just gotten used to them.
“Anyway,” Tim continued, “all I’m saying is, Melanie wears crop tops every other day and he doesn’t bat an eye.”
“What’s your point,” Melanie demanded.
“Well, Elias seems to like our department better, but there has to be a limit. And I think we should find out what that limit is.”
“S-sorry, what are you suggesting?” Martin asked.
“I thought that was obvious, Martin. We’re going to see exactly how far we can go before Elias determines we’re dressing in a manner far too scandalous for his sensibilities.”
“I’m sure you will have fun with that,” Jon said drily. “But as your manager, Tim, and someone who has to work with you in close proximity, I’m going to have to veto this plan.”
Tim flipped him off. “Martin, you in?”
Martin reddened. “Tim, I am not being immodest at work!”
“Coward,” Melanie told him. “I’m in.”
“I’m in,” said Basira, and Jon yelped in surprise as he realized Basira had been reading on top of the office bookshelf. “I’m going to be far more creative than any of you.”
“I’m in,” said Sasha.
“I’m in,” said Leitner from the air vents.
“C’mon, boss,” Tim cajoled. “I’m pretty sure I’ve never even seen your forearms. Let loose a little!”
“Absolutely not.”
“Then at least let us do it.”
“Under no circumstances. This blatant unprofessionalism is not welcome in my office.”
“Please?” said Martin.
“Of course you all may do this. Martin, can I get you anything? Some tea? Some lunch?”
“Um. No, I’m fine.”
Melanie high-fived Martin.
“Okay,” Tim announced. “We need a system. We can’t all just show up in thongs, after all.”
“How about a rotation?” Basira suggested. “We have an order, and everyone has to try to one-up the previous person.”
“What’s the punishment if they don’t?” Jon asked, curious in spite of himself.
“They have to use a pick-up line on Elias,” Melanie supplied, and the chorus of “NOOOs” from around the room attested to the genius of the idea.
“All right,” Tim clapped his hands together. “Operation Violate Dress Code begins! Let’s do...let’s see…”
“I’ll go first,” Martin quickly volunteered. “So I don’t have to one-up anyone the first round..”
“Mmmm.” Tim started pointing and writing something down in a notebook. “How about Martin, then Sasha, then Basira, then Melanie, then me. Then Jon, if you want to join.”
“What about me,” Leitner said from the vents.
“You never leave the vents and Elias doesn’t know you’re alive,” Jon reminded him.
“I can be sexy,” Leitner asserted.
“Please,” Jon said, “do not put that image in my head.”
“The rules,” Tim declared, “are as followed. You must violate the Institute dress code in a way that goes beyond our normal, you know, disregard. The person who comes in the day after you must do so more egregiously. At the end of the day, we shall all vote on if they succeeded. Points shall be given for creativity and overall sexiness. If you do not one-up the previous person, the Council shall decide on something flirtatious you must say to Elias Bouchard. Oh, and Elias has to see everyone’s outfit at some point during the day. If you’re the one to make him snap, everyone else has to throw you a party. But don’t rush straight to bikinis—we don’t want to end the fun too soon!”
“Well, that goes without saying,” said Sasha.
“Can I request that no genitals be shown in my Archives?” Jon asked.
“Genitals may not be shown,” Tim said, “but they may be heavily implied.”
“Close enough,” Jon muttered.
“All right!” Tim clapped his hands together. “Martin, you’re up tomorrow.”
“Jon,” Elias said. “You wanted me down here?”
“Yes, yes, just wanted to hand you these filing reports. Here you go.”
Elias accepted the reports with a bland smile, and went back to his office without so much at glancing at Martin’s exposed shoulders.
Jon did, in fact, glance at Martin’s exposed shoulders. They were freckled and pale, and Jon didn’t see how Elias could possibly ignore them.
The next day, Sasha showed up in cutoff denim shorts and a shirt that showed an inch of skin. Elias, again, didn’t seem to notice, even as he greeted her with a “good morning.” The Council voted that she had one-upped Martin, and Tim applauded her restraint.
“This is a slow burn, people,” he reminded them. “We have to go incrementally, or our results won’t be scientific.”
“I appreciate that,” said Jon.
“It’s my turn,” said Leitner from the vents.
“No the fuck it isn’t,” said Basira, her voice muffled through the giant furry head she was wearing.
“I’m wearing fishnets,” he continued.
“Ew.”
Basira returned to her book. It was very hard to read, but she wasn’t a quitter.
“Good morning, Basira,” Elias greeted her blandly as he dropped by the archives to drop off a sheaf of budget reports on Jon’s desk. “I do like your new hat.”
Basira blinked. Tim stuffed his hand in his mouth to muffle his giggles.
“It is pretty sexy,” Melanie said as soon as Elias left. Jon hit her in the back of the head with a thrown ball of crumpled paper.
“No furries in my Archive,” he said.
The Council voted that it was a valid escalation.
“I just don’t know if it’s more egregious than a furry head,” Jon said.
“Oh, come on,” Melanie complained. “Covering your head like that isn’t even against Institute dress code! But it explicitly states: ‘no unprofessional slogans, words or logos, or those that run counterintuitive to the mission of the Institute.’” She gestured to her shirt that read “I eat statements when Elias isn’t looking.” “How is this not unprofessional?”
“Except,” Basira pointed out, “Jon does eat statements, and Elias is never looking when he does it. So eating statements when Elias isn’t looking is actually very much a part of the mission of the Institute.”
“Oh, what a shame,” Tim simpered. “Looks like your spooky manager betrayed you, Melanie.”
“Jon, you stupid statement-eating twink!” Melanie yelled.
“Why am I the twink?” Jon demanded.
“Well,” Tim said, “I’m too ripped and Martin’s obviously a bear.”
“I’m a twink,” Leitner said from the vents.
“I know for a fact you’re a heterosexual,” Jon reprimanded him.
“Hey Elias. Do you work at the Magnus Institute?”
“I should think that was obvious, M—”
“Because I’ve got my eye on you.”
Elias just blinked as Melanie turned and ran. Another murder plot, no doubt.
“Tim,” Jon asked flatly. “What the fuck.”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Tim put a heel up on Jon’s desk, and Jon scooted his chair back. “I’m Babereham Lincoln.”
Jon took in the top hat, tuxedo top, and fishnets with wide eyes.
“This is...an escalation. I thought you said we’d take it slow.”
“Sorry if I’m going too fast,” Tim purred in a sexual tone that made Jon want to throw himself into the sea, “but I’ve had this thing in the closet for months and I couldn’t resist. You like?”
“It’s. Something.”
“Isn’t it?”
Jon peered around Tim into the rest of the archives. The girls were giggling and Martin looked like he was about to faint. Elias entered the room.
“Ah, Tim,” Elias said. “You didn’t answer my emails.”
“What do you want, Elias.”
“Are you coming to the potluck on Saturday?”
“And huff down your dry ass scones? I’ll pass.”
“Really, Tim. There’s no need to be,” Elias’s eyes landed on Tim’s uncomfortably tight shorts, “nasty.”
“So,” Tim asked, “how do we feel so far?”
“P-pretty good,” Martin said, his eyes not moving from Tim’s exposed thighs.
“I have a question,” Sasha said. “Can we violate the dress code even when it’s not our turn?”
Tim threw his arms wide. “Of course! Just not to the extent that you overshadow the competition.”
Jon twisted his hands in his lap. Truth be told, he had a few outfits he’d like to wear that decidedly weren’t Institute standard. But he couldn’t wear them. That would be unprofessional.