Bandfic: In This (White) House (frat!verse, B/C edition; PG-13)

Apr 05, 2008 10:13

Title: In This (White) House (Frat!verse AU; Brendon/Cash Edition)
Author: tigs
Characters/Pairing: Established Brendon/Cash, Ryan, Jon, Haley, others.
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Don't know or own.
Summary: As a junior, Brendon would like to believe he's too old and mature for such plotting, but he'd be totally lying if he didn't admit to leaning back in his chair in his and Jon's room a few nights ago and saying, "Do you think Spencer would kill us if we elected him President while he's not here to defend himself?" 5400 words.

A/N: Title lifted from an episode of The West Wing. It seemed appropriate. Many thanks to frogy for letting me ask her opinion on a few things, and to amy13 for giving this a look over.

A/N2: Set in both the frat!verse, as well as in the Brendon/Cash off-shoot of the frat!verse, which at this point in time is composed mostly of 10,000 words of happy thoughts, scenes and images. This is mostly a Brendon story, not quite as fluffy. Hopefully it works okay as a standalone, or as a slice of future life, but just in case, the pertinent back story is: Pretty much the entire FBR label is in a fraternity together. And in the B/C off-shoot, Brendon, a member of the fraternity, and Cash, not a member of the fraternity, ended up getting together at the end of their freshman year. This is set during Brendon's junior year.


In This (White) House

"Next year," Ryan says as they head downstairs to the Cave, "we'll get the TV room. Fucking finally, you know?" and Brendon nods, because that's one of the perks of being a senior, he's discovered. First choice in everything, and when it comes to class meetings, that means getting the TV room with the most comfortable couches in the world.

Juniors get the Cave, though, and while it masquerades as a study room 95% of the time, it does have couches of its own, and carpet, and also pillows; a.k.a., it's better than being a sophomore, because they always, always get the shaft and get stuck in the dining room, with the hard tables and the hard chairs and pillows stolen from the freshmen in the living room.

"I bet we could have gotten the TV room if Spencer was here," Nate says, and he's making a beeline for the couch, so Brendon runs and jumps onto the loveseat. Not as much room to spread out, true, but it also means that no one will be able to guilt him into sharing. Which is pretty much *always* a bonus, in Brendon's opinion.

Indeed, as Brendon gets settled, Siska claims the other end of the couch, and starts kicking at Nate's ankles, saying, "Just fucking move already. You're fucking little, Novarro. How the hell do you take up so much fucking space?"

Ryan apparently grabbed the blankets from the couch when no one was looking, because he's currently spreading them out on the floor-in a few minutes, Brendon knows, he'll be under them-and Bob and Chris are rolling their eyes at the rest of them.

"You're right," Brendon says. "If Spencer was here he totally would have made the seniors give us the TV room. Because Spencer is just that awesome." His glare is enough, Brendon believes, to make even the seniors quake in their boots. Or flip-flops. Or mock-quake and give Spencer exactly what he wants because it amuses them to do so.

Spencer, though, is currently in London, as in England, just like he has been for the last two months, and Brendon is quite ready to have him back, thank you. Stupid international business degree. Even if it will probably allow Spencer to take over the world at some point. Haley believes it, too; she and Brendon have spent several evenings after Spencer's weekly phone call plotting out his path to world domination. First a Fortune 500 company, then another, and the next thing you know, Spencer will be like Disney: everywhere.

"Next year Spencer will be with us to protect what should rightfully be ours every year," Bob says. Then Chris says, "How about we get started, huh?"

Siska's their designated Class Representative, because, as he said earlier that day, "You fucks would have to be *insane* to elect me, you know?" So he has his notebook and pen out and says, "So, where do we want to start. The top of the list? The bottom? Somewhere in the middle? Should I just randomly pick one out of a hat?"

"The bottom," Ryan says, because he's decisive like that. "IFC Rep. I nominate Ian."

"Johnson," Bob says, and Nate says, "How about Tate? It's a good place for the freshmen to get experience."

Because this is the way slating works: throw out names, discuss the pros and cons of each person, write your vote on a piece of paper, and then the class representatives and a few select others will go into a room together and assemble a ballot that they think the house will approve of.

Everyone's been plotting their choices for weeks. Brendon walked in on a Secret Sophomore Meeting in his little's room just last week, where at least two of the Alexes had looked at him in a shifty-eyed manner, before he'd said, "Whoa, hey, okay, I'll come find you later."

It's just what happens this time of year.

As a junior, Brendon would like to believe he's too old and mature for such plotting, but he'd be totally lying if he didn't admit to leaning back in his chair in his and Jon's room a few nights ago and saying, "Do you think Spencer would kill us if we elected him President while he's not here to defend himself?"

Jon laughed. "I think he'd *really* kill us if we elected him Treasurer again."

This year, Brendon doubts he'll be lucky enough to get back on Exec, because he is a junior, and he's been doing this for two years, and he's pretty sure that people must be getting sick of him by now.

Of course, he felt that way his first year, too. Well, not the 'sick of' part, but the part where he was sure that no one would want to elect a spazzy freshman to the Executive Council, and then again the next year, because there were so many great guys who weren't on Exec, why shouldn't one of them have a chance?

Besides, one year as Scribe, one year as Personnel chair, and there's not a whole lot left for him to do.

Still, he can't help but feel a little thrill when they get to the Pledge Ed position and Nate mentions his name-"Seriously, B," he says. "You've got this year's freshman following you around like fucking *ducklings*. Imagine what you could make them do if you were actually in charge!"

He grins a little wider when Bob mentions his name for the Personnel position again, because that means that he, at least, thinks Brendon's done a good job.

Ryan mentions Spencer's name for Treasurer, with Nate jumping in with a quick, "Seconded!" before they all look at each other and begin laughing. A lot. Spencer won't get Treasurer this year, though, Brendon's sure of it.

Each time his classmates discuss him, he heads out into the trophy room, a.k.a., the room with the pool table. The first time, with the discussion of Pledge Ed, he has time to rack up the balls and actually break them before he gets called back into the Cave. The second time, for Personnel, he manages to get four stripes into the pockets.

When he comes in the next time, they start discussing the Vice President position-essentially, the scholarship chair-and Ryan throws Spencer's name out for that, too. Brendon knows no one will mention him. He's not a bad student, but no one in their right mind could expect him to get up in front of the entire house every week and Talk Seriously About Studying and How Their Grades Need To Be Better.

Then they get to the big one: President. If Jon wasn't graduating at the end of the year, Brendon's pretty sure he could have the job for the third year in a row-because Brendon's big is just that awesome-but Jon is, so he won't.

They're all a little tired by this point, and Siska stretches, popping his back, as he says, "So. Last one. President, anyone?"

Brendon says, "Spencer," at the same time Ryan says, "Brendon."

Brendon turns to look at Ryan so fast his neck hurts just a little, and, and, *seriously*? Because, seriously, *what*? Ryan's just looking calmly at him, though, with his stupid poker face of no emotion-ness, and Brendon wants to ask, 'Are you kidding?'

Because Brendon is no Jon Walker, or Pete Wentz, or Spencer Smith. He's just. Brendon. With the hyperactivity and the bounciness and the tendency to come home from class and perform unsolicited Disney musical interludes in the front hallway.

He gets shoo'd out of the room, though, and this time he doesn't continue his solo game of pool, because his heart is beating quickly, he feels a little flutter of nerves around his stomach, and-

And then he thinks, *no way*, because seriously, *Spencer*. Or maybe one of the sophomores, with their secret sophomore cabal planning to overthrow the house and make it theirs. He wouldn’t be surprised if the sophomores were backing… probably Marshall. He's a well-put-together kid, has fans in all the classes.

So basically: it was a compliment from Ryan, nominating Brendon, but with people like Spencer or Marshall around, so much potential at their fingertips, there's no way. Brendon will just be Personnel again. Or maybe people will decide that he can be mean enough to be Pledge Ed.

Or maybe he'll have his Sunday nights free from now on, and he and Cash can actually watch Desperate Housewives in real-time, rather than an hour or two later, on DVR.

This is the reason he's no longer shaking when Chris opens the door and calls him back in. He just sits back down on the floor-Bob chose this time to steal Brendon's loveseat, and he seems to be immune to Brendon's glare-and says, "What would people think about Marshall?"

*

Except, apparently, it wasn't just a compliment from Ryan, because somehow, and Brendon's really not sure how, unless there was a vast conspiracy in the house that he'd somehow completely *missed*, his name is at the very top of the ballot that the slate committee presents.

It reads:

President: Brendon Urie

And, okay, there are a whole lot of other names after that, too, but Brendon's still stuck at the top. Not Spencer Smith. Not Alex Marshall. Not anyone else. Brendon Urie, him, and seriously, seriously?

People are starting to murmur-good response? bad response? Brendon can't tell!-and Jon says, "Hey, hey, none of that now. No talking until the ballots are in Tom's hands, you know how this goes," and then people are marking yes or no on their pieces of paper. Yes, pass. No, fail, and here's why, this is the reason why.

And Brendon has to vote, too, so he reads farther:

President: Brendon Urie
Vice President: Alex Marshall
Scribe: Andrew Tate
Treasurer: Alex Johnson
Recruitment Chair: Alex DeLeon
Personnel: Spencer Smith
IFC Representative: Ian Crawford

Brendon takes a deep breath, marks his choice, and turns the ballot in.

*

It probably only takes 10 minutes to count the votes, before Jon and Tom and the rest of the class representatives are filing back into the room, but it feels like a lot longer. Probably because Brendon's knee won't stop bouncing, and people keep looking at him and smiling, and what if, what if, what if? Eventually they come back, though, and they've got their poker faces on, and for a minute, Brendon thinks they're going to say, "Sorry, fail," and provide a new slate, with someone else at the top.

Spencer.

Someone not Brendon.

Brendon's heard tales of houses having to go through five or six ballots before they finally approve one, and while he's never had to do that with FBR, there's a first time for everything, right? He hopes it won't take that long tonight, because he and Cash are supposed to go get dinner, and, well. Dinner is good.

Then Jon smiles and says, "Please congratulate your unanimously elected 2010 Executive Council."

Everyone, all the brothers, let out a cheer, and Brendon suddenly finds himself on the receiving end of far too many hugs. Singer, his little, tackles him from behind, wrapping arms tightly around Brendon's neck, saying, "Fucking awesome, Big," and Ryan's grinning at him, and Jon is working his way through the crowd, and when he gets to Brendon he says, "You poor, poor sucker. You have no idea what you just let yourself in for, little brother."

Brendon says something in response, he's sure that he does because Jon laughs, but the blood is rushing in his ears, and he-

Seriously.

President Brendon Urie.

Brendon Urie, President of FBR.

President.

"Holy shit," Brendon says, and smiles.

*

Haley has the international calling card, although Brendon and Ryan usually chip in for at least half the cost, because this is usually the way it works: Tuesday nights, Spencer will call Haley, or Haley will call Spencer, and after she's talked to him for awhile, she'll walk across the street from the Kappa Delta house to the FBR house and hand the phone over to Ryan. He'll talk to Spencer for ten, fifteen minutes while Brendon and Haley hang out in Brendon's room, then Brendon will get the phone, and he'll walk the hallways of the house for another ten or fifteen minutes, filling Spencer in on all of the gossip that Haley wouldn't know and Ryan wouldn't think to share.

Tonight, though, Brendon shows up on the Kappa Delta doorstep, and one of the freshmen answers the door. Allie, Brendon thinks her name is. She grins at him, says, "Haley?" When Brendon nods, she goes to the intercom and says, "Haley, you have a caller! I repeat, Haley, you have a caller!" Brendon hears a faint 'okay!' from somewhere in the depths of the house and the next thing Brendon knows, he hears the door at the top of the stairs opening and Haley's coming down to the foyer.

"Brendon!" she says. "Hi! You guys done already?"

And Brendon's still grinning-he thinks he might be for awhile, actually-as he says, "So. What would you say to giving your boy a call?"

Haley's eyes widen and she says, "What did he get? No, you should tell him first. But what about you? Did you get another position?"

Brendon's been planning the big reveal for, well. The walk across the street. As soon as Spencer's on the line, he'll say something like, "Hey, roomie,"-because the President and the Personnel chair always room together in the FBR house, that's the way things work. But that wasn't exactly a clear way to tell Spencer that he was going to be inheriting Brendon's old job. Then he thought about starting out with a joke: a 'hello, Mr. Treasurer!' But that would just be mean. And Spencer might actually physically reach through the phone to strangle him.

Before he can answer Haley's question, though, Keltie's standing at the top of the stairs, saying, "Well hello, Mr. President," and Haley's eyes go wide, asking for confirmation. At Brendon's nod, she squeals and throws herself at him, wrapping him in a tight hug.

"Brendon!" she says. "Oh, congratulations! *Brendon*!" Then she pulls back suddenly and starts for the stairs. "Give me just a moment, I'll be right back with the phone and card, okay? Don't go anywhere."

Keltie's halfway down the stairs now, and she sits, looking out through the railing at Brendon. "So has the mind numbing terror set in yet?" she asks, and Brendon shakes his head. He's pretty sure he still has a few more hours to just take it in, because seriously, it doesn't seem real yet. Not at all.

Then Haley's coming down the stairs again, pink phone clutched in her hand, and says, "Let me put it on speaker phone, okay?" She leads Brendon into the living room. They have comfortable couches, too, but they also have floral wallpaper, rose-colored throw rugs, and kitten statues on the fireplace that always seem to be staring at Brendon.

They sit side-by-side on a couch, and Haley places the phone on the coffee table in front of them. She dials the number carefully, biting at her tongue as she enters the long string of digits, then smiles excitedly at Brendon when it starts ringing. It takes a few moments, but then Spencer's saying, "Hello?"

He sounds sort of tired, but then again, it is nearly midnight there, and Haley says, "Hi, babe. I have someone here who wants to talk to you."

"Hi, Spencer Smith!" Brendon says, and Spencer sounds confused when he says, "Hey, Brendon Urie?"

"I wanted to pass along the good news," Brendon continues. "I don't know if you remember what day it is, but I just thought that you would like to know that you are not Treasurer again."

There's a moment of silence, then Spencer bursts into laughter. "Thank fuck," he says. Then, "So did they stick me with something else?"

"Personnel chair," Brendon says, and Haley's eyes go wide again, and Spencer says, "Oh my god," and he maybe sounds a little bit horrified, but it could very well be the long distance distorting his voice, because Spencer will be an awesome Personnel chair, of that Brendon has no doubt. If he hadn't seemed like even more of a Treasurer type, he probably would have been Personnel last year, too.

"But on the plus side, you get to live with me!"

There's another moment of silence, and then Spencer's saying, "You got it? Seriously?"

"Somehow, yeah," Brendon says. "I'm still not quite sure how, but-"

"But you're going to be *awesome*," Spencer says. "I mean, like we'd want anyone else representing us."

At first Brendon laughs, because if the rest of the world looks at him as an example, they're going to think the FBR guys are totally spastic and prone to singing show tunes, and Brendon's probably not going to want to burst out into song in the middle of IFC meetings, like he sometimes does in Chapter meetings, and-

And that is the first moment that Brendon thinks, *oh god*. Not in the 'oh my god, I'm going to regret this in about two weeks, aren't I?' way, but in the 'oh, god, what have I gotten myself into' way, because being President just isn't about the house, it's about the campus, and being out and about in the Greek System, and-

Spencer and Haley are talking about something now, and suddenly, Brendon can't be there any longer, because, well, he just can't, so he says, "Hey, I've got to go meet up with Cash, but I just wanted to let you know the good news. Or bad news. Take your pick."

"Thanks, man," Spencer says, sounding like he's smiling, and Haley gets up to give Brendon one more hug, and says, "I'll see you Tuesday, alright?" and Brendon says, "Bye," to both of them.

He shows himself out.

*

Brendon walks to Cash's apartment.

It's a ten block walk from the FBR house, takes him about twenty minutes, and by the time he gets there, Brendon's not smiling anymore, because he's still thinking, *oh, god* and, *does FBR really want to be known as the house with the queer president?*

Not that he's ashamed-because he's *not*, he's *so* not-or that he thinks the rest of his guys care. They're fiercely protective of Brendon, after all, to the point that when he was walking around the house during one of the House Tour days during recruitment week, he heard more than one brother bringing up Brendon and Cash in conversation.

'Oh yeah, he'd heard them say,' stopping in front of one of the picture collage boards, 'there's a picture of all of us at the paintball park for a brotherhood last year. And this one's from our formal. That's our Personnel chair, Brendon, and that's his boyfriend Cash. They're really fucking sickeningly sweet, just so you know.'

Embarrassing, yes, but Brendon appreciated the sentiment behind it. The, you don't like it? You don't accept it? You can fuck off. Guys who weren't cool, weren't back. Guys who were, well. In Brendon's opinion, they'd gotten two of the best pledge classes on campus over the last two years.

But.

But, there's a difference between his house and the rest of the Greek System, and he's going to be spending a lot of time with the presidents of all of the other houses, he's going to be attending bi-weekly IFC meetings, he's going to be the face of FBR to a whole lot of people, and while Brendon's never had any problems beyond a few whispers or stares from other houses yet, he knows that not everyone is as okay with it as he'd like them to be. If any of the guys from the other houses have a serious problem with it, well.

Well, it might not be the best thing for his house.

And that, in Brendon's opinion, is unacceptable.

It takes Brendon a moment to knock on Cash's door, but almost immediately after he does, Cash opens it, says, "Hi, congratulations, hi," and kisses Brendon as hard as he can, until Brendon forgets that he's actually sort of upset.

Indeed, he's grinning stupidly at Cash when they finally part, and Cash is looking so happy for him, so proud, that Brendon feels some of the excitement seeping back. Apparently not enough, though, because Cash takes a long look at him and says, "What's the matter?"

"Just, you know, nerves," Brendon says, because that's true, entirely true. His smile fades more, though.

Cash narrows his eyes at Brendon, though, and says, "No, seriously, what?" and Brendon takes a deep breath, intent on saying, "Nothing at all!", because dinner plans had turned into celebration dinner plans, and Brendon can smell Cash's vegetarian lasagna in the oven, and he'd also mentioned something about chocolate cake and Brendon doesn't want to ruin that.

It's Cash, though, and he's looking at Brendon with worried eyes, and well, the whole story pretty much comes spilling out, words tumbling over other words, and Cash's face grows tighter the more Brendon talks, but he can't seem to stop, and by the time he's done, they're sitting cross-legged on the sofa, facing each other, and Cash has his hand on Brendon's knee, the press of his fingers warm.

He says, "I'm only going to say this once, okay? Well, I'll say it more if I need to, but I hope it's only once."

Brendon nods, even though he already knows what Cash is going to say, can already hear the pep talk that's coming.

"First of all, you shouldn't give a *fuck* about what the rest of the campus thinks. If they can't deal, that's their problem, not yours, and they can go fuck themselves." He pauses, and looks at Brendon seriously, and then says, "Nod, because you know I'm right."

It takes a few seconds, but Brendon nods. Cash moves his hand from Brendon's knee down to his ankle, running his finger over the bone there a few times as he continues, "If the fact that you like dick somehow makes you less able to be President of your house, well, they've just got fucked priorities, and you know it. And your guys know it, because you love your house more than anything, and they love you, and they trust you to lead them in the right direction, so it becomes an even better house over the next year, you know?"

"I know," Brendon says, and his voice sounds smaller in his ears than he wants it to, but he does know it, and when Cash says it like that, it sounds logical, because his guys really are the ones to matter, have pretty much been the only ones (aside from Cash) who's opinion he valued since he joined up, and he can feel himself sitting up a little bit straighter.

Cash's smile is tentative, but growing, and when Brendon smiles back, it feels a lot more genuine. Because his guys asked him to be *President*. Pete, then Jon, then Brendon, and they trust him that much, and-

"Better now?" Cash asks and Brendon nods.

"Good," Cash says, "because we've got celebrating to do, Urie."

He stands up from the couch, then extends a hand to Brendon, pulling him up. He doesn't let go as he walks back in the direction of the kitchen. Brendon doesn't let go either.

*

It takes Brendon twenty minutes to walk back to FBR, and he stands outside for a few minutes, looking in the brightly lit windows, seeing Chris and Johnson doing some sort of dance in their room, watching Marshall and Ian have paper airplane flying contests in the dining room-probably something for one of their engineering classes.

His house, he thinks. His.

Singer and his girlfriend are in the living room studying, and his little looks up when Brendon comes in. "Have a good evening, Big?" he asks, wiggling his eyebrows, and Brendon just grins, answer enough, before he heads up to the third floor to his and Jon's room.

It's not Jon that's waiting for him in their room, though; it's Ryan.

"Your boyfriend called right after you left his place," Ryan says, when Brendon raises an eyebrow, a 'what are you doing here?' "He wanted me to make sure you were really over your freak out. He said that he thought you were, but."

"I am," Brendon says, but Ryan's still got his eyes narrowed, so he continues, "I was just, you know. Worrying. Because it's one thing to be, you know, me, in this house, and another to be out and about out there, with everyone else, and I was just. Thinking. Always dangerous, you know?"

He grins quickly, but Ryan looks like he's going to say something, possibly start spouting, so Brendon rushes on. "But if people can't handle me, that's their problem. Cash told me it was their problem, and it is, because it's the house that matters, right, and if I have you all at my back, I could care fuck all about everyone else. You know?"

"Good," Ryan says. "Because I'd hate to have to call Jon back from Cassie's just so he could talk some sense into you, because seriously, Brendon, none of us give a flying fuck what the rest of the world thinks. If they choose to think that something's wrong with us having a President who likes cock, well. That's their problem. If they choose to make an issue out of our President having a sickeningly devoted boyfriend rather than girlfriend, well, that's their issue, not ours, because there is no one in this house more qualified to be President, Brendon Urie, and every single one of us knows it. We wanted you. Do you understand? And *fuck* what anyone else says, okay?"

"Okay," Brendon says, and then he grins, because that is maybe more emotion than he's heard Ryan use in the last two plus years combined. "Okay."

"Good," Ryan says, standing up from Jon's chair. "Now stop being stupid and start basking in the honeymoon period. Because if what Pete told me is true, it'll be over really fucking quickly.

"Ha, yeah, right," Brendon says. "I'm done being stupid now."

*

Except a month and a half later, after Jon has officially handed the reigns of the house over to Brendon, he starts to think that maybe he's not the only one who was a little bit worried. Or that maybe his worries sparked others to worry, just a little. Because as he and Ian are getting ready to leave the house to walk to the Student Union, Ryan and Singer come out of the dining room and Singer says, "Hey, you're heading over to the SU, right? We'll join you."

"I need to go pick up a blue book," he continues as they walk to the front door. "Already, I know, but my teacher is apparently a sadist. I mean, two weeks in, why is he already giving in-class essays?"

"Sadistic," Ian agrees.

"My Poetry 304 prof suggested I order this book by this really obscure poet I'd never heard of," Ryan says, "and the bookstore finally got it in today, so. You know."

As he's talking, Ryan crosses his arms over his chest in a way that Brendon knows means that he's totally lying through his teeth. Brendon doesn't call him on it, though. He just leads the way out of the house and up the street towards campus.

He doesn't know whether to be amused or annoyed when, after they enter the Student Union, as they pass the coffee place, he sees Tom and Jon sitting at one of the tables in the hallway.

"Just wanted to wish you luck," Jon says, raising his drink in a 'cheers!' motion. Tom nods.

Brendon can't help but roll his eyes a little bit, because no matter that yeah, it's still a little nerve wracking doing this, going into a room of people he hardly knows with only Ian at his back, well. Everyone was right. It really is his house that matters, and if anyone has a problem with him, fuck them.

The room is already pretty much full by the time he and Ian enter, and they spot two seats together on the far side of the table, and Brendon wishes it wasn't so, but as they walk to their spots, he can feel people staring, can hear a few whispers starting up. He takes his chair, though, and turns to say something to Ian.

Before he can, someone sits down in the seat on his other side and saying, "Brendon?"

Brendon turns to see who the new person is, and it's new IFC President. Trent, from Sigma Chi, looking a lot like Chad, from Brendon's freshman year.

"Hey," Trent says, sticking out his hand, shaking Brendon's own. "Trent Willis. You're Cash's boyfriend, right?"

Brendon thinks he must look a little confused, but he nods, says, "Yeah, I am."

Trent's smile is wide.

"Dude, Cash is awesome. I know his roommate Shane? We used to work at the bagel store together? And when I was pretty much failing my stats class last year, Cash totally offered to help me. Pretty much saved my GPA. Won himself a friend for life."

Brendon can't help but grin, just like he always grins when people talk about his boyfriend being awesome.

"Anyway," Trent says, "I was wanting to meet you, put a name with a face, because Cash pretty much couldn't shut up about you and all the awesome stuff you were doing over at FBR and so, yeah. I just wanted to come over and say hi."

He claps Brendon's shoulder as he stands, gives a not-so-subtle look around the room-which is suddenly a lot quieter than Brendon remembers it being-and then heads back to the head of the table.

"So, we're just waiting for, let's see, Pi Kapps and Fiji?" Trent says a moment later, looking at his watch. Even as he's speaking, two guys come running in and they run around the table, slide into the open seats next to Brendon. The Fijis, two that Brendon's met in passing, and one of them grins widely at him.

"Yeah," the guy says. "We totally left with enough time, I swear."

Brendon giggles a little.

At the front of the room, Trent claps his hands together. "Okay, gentlemen, we need to get started, but first I'd like to welcome you all as members of the 2010 IFC Council, and say that by working together, all of us, we're going make this the best, most productive year the Greek System has ever seen. Are you with me? Are you with me?"

"Yeah!" Brendon says, his voice joining the chorus of those around him.

*

And that is the end.

Except for the part where, at the end of the meeting, Brendon walks out into the main part of the Student Union to find Jon and Ryan and Cash sitting at one of the tables across from the meeting room. Jon and Ryan look a little sheepish, but Cash is smiling, standing up.

He walks towards Brendon and he looks like he maybe wants to take Brendon's hand, but there are other fraternity members swarming around them, so he just smiles. It's Brendon who reaches out and wraps his fingers around Cash's palm and squeezes. He might have let go a moment or two later, except when Trent comes up to their little group, he forgets to.

"Walker," Trent says. "Couldn't stay away, could you?"

"Two years of this," Jon says. "I don't know what to do with my Tuesday nights anymore!"

Trent shakes his head. "Feel lucky," he says. "Fly free." Then he looks at Cash and says, "Long time, no see, dude. I had to go up and introduce myself to your boyfriend before we started today, tell him you pretty much saved my life last year."

"Just a little," Cash says, squeezing Brendon's head.

"Hey, not so little," Trent says. "I was hopeless." Then he nods at all of them and says, "You kids have a good night," before he's off, slinging an arm around the VP of Judicial Affairs, saying, "Dude, dude, you and me have got some plotting to do."

"So," Jon asks as they start towards the main doors of the SU. "Good meeting?"

Brendon says, "Yeah, not so bad."

Cash gives Brendon's hand another squeeze, and Brendon shifts his grip so that their fingers are laced together, and then the two of them follow Jon and Ryan out the door.

bandfic: frat!verse (b/c), bandfic, bandfic: frat!verse

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