Work Text:
Elias has been busy lately. Busy enough to not really look in on them, although by walking up to his office Basira, Tim, Martin, and herself are definitely going to draw his attention, so Melanie sternly instructs them all not to speak a word until she sets everything in motion. Martin is already biting the inside of his cheek to keep himself from laughing and Tim is smirking like a crocodile, but honestly, she guesses it doesn’t matter too much if he already knows what they’re going to say. They pause outside his office.
“Come in,” Elias says, before Martin’s knuckles actually make contact with the door. Melanie rolls her eyes at him and then resolutely ignores the part of her brain that’s shrieking HIT HIM KILL HIM KNOCK HIS TEETH OUT the second Martin pushes the door open and she sets eyes on Elias’ terrible face. Martin and Basira take the chairs, and Tim decides to lean behind Martin, so she hops up on his desk and sits at an angle, firmly planting her ass on top of several folders, sending a pen rolling off his desk and nearly knocking over his coffee. Elias gives her an extremely refined version of a death glare, which she returns eagerly and with much more ferocity.
“What can I do for you all?” Elias asks, finally.
“Can’t you just see that?” Tim replies, sardonic, resting his chin on top of Martin’s head.
Elias exhales, which she would call a sigh, only it’s Elias, and sighing is beneath him, or whatever. “I have other, more pressing matters to attend to,” he says, pointedly tugging a folder out from beneath Melanie. She raises an eyebrow at him and sits harder. “Apologies if I can’t spend all of my time checking up on you.”
Tim opens his mouth to snap something else, but Basira waves a hand.
“I found an article online,” she says in a let's keep on track sort of tone. “About how bosses should have their employees on social media to ‘increase workplace camaraderie’ -,”
“Absolute garbage,” Melanie says, making a face.
“Quite,” Barisa says. “Work shouldn’t be your life and bosses should not be able to fire you for things such as complaining about your job -,”
“Not that we have to worry about that,” Martin mumbles. His face is pink and he’s making fierce eye contact with Melanie’s knees.
“Oh, not at all,” Tim says. “I can tweet ‘Elias Bouchard is a douchebag and a wanker’ every day for the rest of my life - which is, admittedly, probably not much longer given…” he gestures vaguely to their surroundings. “And nothing will be done about it! So I’ve been doing just that.”
“Elias Doucheard,” Melanie offers, boredly. Elias runs a hand down his face.
“Oh, good one!” Tim says, pulling out his phone and tapping at it.
“Anyways,” Basira says. “We found your facebook. And we have some… questions.”
“Just one, actually,” Melanie says, and shoves her phone right under his nose, so close his eyes cross and he has to lean back in order to see it. It’s a picture of Elias and what must be his entire extended family at Christmas - they’re all stood in front of a large tree wearing horribly ugly matching green and red sweaters, so obviously itchy that she can feel the scratch of wool on her arms as she looks at it. Elias is stuck smack in the middle of them all, and he’s the only one who isn’t smiling. He is also holding an extremely fat baby with a very festive bow on its head. He has on felt reindeer antlers, complete with little golden bells. Basira had laughed so hard she cried when she first saw the photo.
“Yes, I have a family and did not just spawn directly from hell,” Elias says, pinching the bridge of his nose, “My nephew made my facebook for me, I don’t actually use it. And yes, my mother makes us all wear matching sweaters. Now, if that will be all -,”
“No,” Melanie says. “Why are all the men in your family bald?”
There is a very charged moment where Elias doesn’t say anything at all, and Melanie knows they’ve caught him off guard. He takes a deep breath. “Style,” he says.
“Are you going to go bald?” Martin asks.
“Yeah, how are your follicles doing?” Tim asks, gleeful. He straightens and puts his hands on Martin’s shoulders - he’s more animated that Melanie has seen him in months and months. She knew this was a good idea. “What’s your hairbrush looking like?”
Elias’ eye starts to twitch and he puts two fingers on it to make it stop. “I am not balding.”
“That’s exactly what someone who’s balding would say,” Tim says, his smirk upgraded to a full on demonic grin.
“This dude can’t be much older than you are now,” Melanie says, going back to her phone and swiping until she finds the photo taken a few years ago of Elias and someone else - probably an uncle or something. The flash bounces off of his shiny bald head, and Elias is, once again, not smiling. “It’s gonna start soon, y’know. I’d talk to your doctor about pills.”
“I am not going to go bald,” Elias snaps, rubbing his temples.
“That’s not what your facebook photos are telling me!” Melanie sing songs, flipping through more photos. They’ve all been so helpfully posted on his wall by his relatives. She pulls up an old photo of his father at 40-something - completely bald.
“Melanie -,” Elias starts.
“You’re gonna look so bad bald,” Tim tells him.
“Tim,” Elias starts again, a warning note in his voice.
“Like Lex Luthor!” Melanie chirps. “Do you wear a toupee? You must.” She pulls a pen out of the cup on his desk and pokes it into his hair - he bats her hand away, but not nearly fast enough. “Oh my God,” she says. “Does your grey hair -?,” she jabs the pen into one of the grey streaks at his temples, wrecking the perfect lines of his pomade. “Oh my god, guys, he dyes his hair grey.”
“What?” Basira wheezes, sounding like she’s trying to force her laughter down with brute strength.
“His greys have dark roots! Why would you do that?” Melanie asks, choking on her laugher. Elias looks like he’s genuinely considering jumping out a window to get away from them. “Do you think it makes you look more refined?” she asks, casting a look around the room. Martin is tomato red and has slumped all the way down in his chair, making little whimpering noises, biting both his lips to try and keep the laughter in. Basira is rubbing her forehead in a way that hides her face from view, her shoulders shaking. Tim looks like he’s suddenly been transported to a universe where good things are happening to him for once.
“In light,” Melanie says, swallowing down her hysteria, “Of the revelations found on your facebook, we got you some gifts.” She pulls a toupee out of her purse and drops it on his desk.
Elias looks at it like it’s a dead rat.
“And this,” she continues, pulling out a list. “It’s a list of medication for male pattern baldness. You should bring it up with your doctor and stop dying your hair grey, you complete lunatic.”
Martin sounds like he’s having some kind of laughter induced fit. Basira has drawn her knees to her chest and has buried her face in them, and Tim is lying on the floor. Melanie’s hands are trembling.
“I,” Elias says, sounding like he’s choosing his words very carefully, “Am very busy.” He stands up and sweeps his coat off his chair. “I’m leaving.”
“This is your office,” Melanie tells him.
“I have to get coffee,” he says. Melanie picks up the still warm and mostly full coffee cup and shakes it at him.
“They messed up my order,” Elias says, grabbing it from her.
“Of black coffee?” Basira gasps out, muffled.
“Going bald is nothing to be ashamed of, Elias!” Tim says, laughing. “Tons of men do it!” he continues as Elias steps over him and sweeps out the door.
“He dyes his hair grey,” Melanie says, wondrously, and then laughs so hard she falls off his desk.