Chapter Text
Dakota crossed one leg over the other, ankle bouncing in quiet protest. The walls of the student conduct office were beige, bland, and offensive. The kind of institutional nothingness that told you hope had died here decades ago.
The office smelled like old sweat and powdered coffee creamer, which Dakota considered an act of violence.
He sat with his legs crossed at the ankle, hands folded neatly in his lap, like he wasn’t the problem everyone was here to fix. The air conditioning whined above him. Two birds were fighting on the windowsill. He identified with the one losing.
The man across from him, Dean Halberd or Halberston or possibly Hallucination, was talking. Dakota wasn’t listening.
“…a pattern of noncompliance, disruption in class, and inappropriate use of the university’s official social media accounts,”
“I said it was a private story,” Dakota cut in, eyes narrowed. “And for the record, the post said ‘allegedly slept with his TA.’ Allegedly. That’s legally airtight.”
Dean Hall-something sighed with the weight of someone underpaid and over-exposed to Dakota’s brand of chaos.
Beside him, a second administrator, a woman in a fitted blazer and the exact haircut Dakota would expect from a Vice Provost, cleared her throat.
“We’re not here to debate your captions,” she said. “We’re here because this is your third formal warning, and frankly, we’ve run out of options.”
Dakota leaned back, smiling like a court jester at his own execution. “Let me guess: expulsion, public flogging, or you make me join a fraternity.”
“Worse,” the Dean said, steepling his fingers. “You’re being assigned to assist Coach Wymack and the Foxes athletic program for the rest of the semester.”
The room went very still.
Dakota blinked. “I’m sorry, did you say sports?”
Wymack. Exy. Sweat. Testosterone. Tragedy. The Foxes, who had actual knife-related incidents on their Wikipedia page. Dakota had once seen one of them growl at a vending machine.
“You’ll be managing travel schedules, organizing press statements, coordinating room assignments for away games, and assisting with academic compliance. Consider it your community service slash internship.” Vice Provost Haircut said crisply.
“Community service implies the community benefits,” Dakota muttered, already mentally drafting a notes app apology for the friends he'd never see again. “This is punishment.”
“It’s either this or a formal disciplinary hearing,” she replied. “Frankly, Coach Wymack is doing you a favor.”
Dakota didn’t like owing people favors. He especially didn’t like being shoved into someone else’s chaos when he’d worked very hard to curate his own.
“I don’t even like sports,” he said weakly.
“We know.”
Dakota narrowed his eyes and uncrossed his legs, as if standing would make any of this negotiable. “So let me get this straight. Because I made one— one, mildly unverified claim about my TA's lack of professional boundaries,”
“And posted it on an account linked to the university’s press outreach.”
“Allegedly linked,” Dakota sniffed. “Aesthetically, maybe.”
Dean Hall-or-Whatever rubbed at his temples like Dakota’s voice was a persistent and expensive migraine. “You have until Monday to check in with Coach Wymack. You’ll be given full clearance and the university’s travel card. Don’t abuse it.”
Dakota perked up slightly. “Define abuse.”
“Goodbye, Mr. Vaurien,” said the Vice Provost, already gathering her things like she’d finally come to terms with the fact that God had abandoned her here.
He stood, smoothing down the front of his immaculate dark jeans, designer, distressed, and already deemed inappropriate in the conduct report, and grabbed his phone from the edge of the chair.
“Oh,” he added, pausing at the door with a practiced flair. “Should I bring a whistle, or is someone else already the emotional referee on that team?”
Neither of them answered.
The moment the office doors shut behind him, he typed out a text to Elise.
to: elise yuna
got court-mandated into the hunger games. apparently i’m a fox now?? send help or something silk-lined xx
Her response was immediate, a selfie from a rooftop in Seoul and a single text:
you’re going to be so hot in team jackets. xx