Dress Code ᡣ𐭩
୨ৎ ⋆ dress code ⋆ ୨ৎ
pairing: rafe cameron x reader warnings: tension, power dynamics, age gap (adult intern), jealousy-ish vibes word count: ~774
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You were halfway through organizing the morning reports when his assistant appeared at your desk.
“Mr. Cameron wants to see you.”
Your stomach dipped slightly. That had never happened before.
You smoothed your skirt automatically — a simple black pencil skirt, the same one every other woman in the office wore — and walked down the quiet hallway toward the corner office.
Everyone knew it. Floor-to-ceiling windows. Dark wood doors. The kind of office that made people lower their voices when they walked past.
You knocked once.
“Come in.”
His voice was calm. Controlled.
You pushed the door open and stepped inside.
Rafe Cameron stood behind his desk, sleeves rolled to his forearms, a file in his hand. He didn’t look up right away.
Which somehow made it worse.
“You wanted to see me?” you asked.
Finally, his eyes lifted.
And lingered.
Too long.
“You’ve been working here,” he said slowly, closing the folder, “what — a month?”
“A little over,” you said. “Five weeks.”
“Right.”
Silence stretched between you.
You waited.
He leaned back against his desk, arms crossing. His gaze flicked down your outfit again — blouse, skirt, heels — like he was evaluating something.
Or trying not to.
“Do you think,” he said finally, voice measured, “that what you’re wearing is appropriate for this office?”
The question caught you off guard.
“My… outfit?”
“Yes.”
Your brows pulled together slightly.
“It’s the same dress code everyone follows.”
His jaw tightened.
“That skirt,” he said, nodding toward it, “is shorter than necessary.”
You looked down at it, then back at him.
“It hits my knee.”
“That’s not the point.”
“Then what is the point?”
His expression hardened slightly at that.
“You’re an intern,” he said. “You represent this company when you walk around this building.”
“And I’m dressed exactly like every other woman on this floor,” you replied calmly.
A quiet tension filled the room.
Rafe pushed off the desk and walked a few steps closer.
The space between you shrank.
“You’re missing it,” he said.
“Then explain it.”
His eyes flicked down your legs again before snapping back to your face, like the motion irritated him.
“You walk through this office,” he said, voice lower now, “and half the guys on this floor stop working.”
You blinked.
“That sounds like their problem.”
A small, humorless laugh left him.
“Yeah,” he said. “You’d think.”
You crossed your arms slightly.
“Is this actually about dress code, or is someone complaining?”
“No one’s complaining.”
“Then why am I here?”
For a second, he didn’t answer.
His gaze studied you in a way that made your pulse kick up — sharp, assessing, almost frustrated.
“You really don’t notice it,” he said quietly.
“Notice what?”
“You.”
The word landed heavier than it should have.
You tilted your head slightly.
“That’s vague.”
His jaw flexed again.
“You come in every morning,” he continued, “skirts like that, acting like you have no idea what you’re doing.”
Your eyebrows lifted.
“What exactly do you think I’m doing?”
His eyes darkened slightly.
“Teasing.”
A small laugh escaped you before you could stop it.
“Mr. Cameron, I promise you,” you said, “I do not spend my mornings planning how to tease my boss.”
For the first time, the corner of his mouth twitched.
But the tension didn’t disappear.
If anything, it sharpened.
He stepped closer again, stopping just short of your personal space.
“You sure about that?”
Your heartbeat picked up, though you kept your voice steady.
“Pretty sure.”
His gaze dropped again — slower this time — before returning to your face.
Like he was annoyed with himself for looking.
“You could request a different department,” he said after a moment.
“Oh?”
“Yes.”
“And why would I do that?”
Another pause.
Because he couldn’t stop watching you.
Because every time you walked past his office he noticed.
Because the last five weeks had been… distracting.
But he didn’t say any of that.
Instead, he straightened slightly.
“It might be easier,” he said.
You studied him for a second.
Then shook your head.
“I like this department.”
A flicker of something crossed his expression.
“You do.”
“Yes.”
“And you’re not going to change the skirt.”
You smiled slightly.
“No.”
Another long silence passed.
Then Rafe exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair like he was recalibrating.
“Fine.”
You waited.
“That’ll be all,” he said.
But as you turned to leave, his voice stopped you.
“Next time.”
You looked back.
His eyes held yours, intense again.
“Try not to walk past my office so slowly.”
You raised a brow.
“I wasn’t aware I was.”
A beat passed.
His mouth twitched again, just barely.
“Yeah,” he said quietly.
“That’s the problem.”
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💌 requests: open send prompts or fic ideas anytime ♡
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cream ribbons, sharp suits, and tension you can’t quite name 🕊
