Chapter Text
The last time he remembers being this nervous, he was nineteen about to be pushed in a pool with his hands tied and not much instruction. And yet even then, the moment he hit the water, a sense of calm had washed over him. He had a goal, and no choice but to achieve it. It had been that simple.
That serenity is definitely evading him right now. Pete is pacing, picking at his nails, his hair, his lips. No one had prepared him for this; he certainly hadn’t been feeling this way back when he had his finals in high school. Then again, back then, he had plenty more things to worry about, like the black eye he was sporting the day of the exam.
Realistically, he has no reason to be feeling this way. Whether he makes it or not is of no consequence to the people around him. They’ll pat him on the back, pitying looks all around and they’ll likely forget about it the next day. But Pete won’t.
It’s not about the degree itself, it’s a way to prove to himself and to everyone that he’s not any less. That when they measure him up, he won’t be found lacking. It’s also about doing something he actually wants, now that death is not quite as imminent, now that he is more than a meat shield for the family.
Pete is chasing his dreams for once, and it’s exhilarating as it is terrifying. Chasing your dreams is only fun during the chase. There’s no talk about what to do when you actually catch up to them, about the nerves and the fear of failure that threatens to undo you.
There was a morning a few days ago that Pete and Vegas fought, and it was ugly. Vegas had suggested that Pete didn’t need to do this, they were rich and influential enough to get him a place anywhere he liked. It was a nice sentiment if he really thought about it, Vegas’ way of offering him a chance to avoid the stress. Yet all Pete had heard was ‘ stupid ’. After the explosion and yelling that followed came the quiet; Pete refused to be the one to break, Vegas kept his pride.
They made up, sure, but right now, outside an exam hall, waiting for names to be called, Pete wishes for those few more days of comfort. Perhaps they would have made a difference, perhaps not.
The shout of a teacher breaks him out of his stupor. Students are starting to move into exam rooms. Pete looks around him from his place ticked away in a corner and realises how out of place he really is. Everyone else here is so young, so innocent, kids with actual dreams and aspirations. They’ll go on to mold their paths in this life, this is just their beginning. And Pete… Pete has no grand dreams. All this is no more than his need to feel like he’s doing something, despite how it won’t matter.
He moves slowly at his name, finds his place next to a boy that looks at him slightly weird, but is likely too busy being stressed to ask him why he’s here. The test paper in front of him is familiar and absolutely foreign at the same time. He’s done this so many times, so many tests to prepare. He’s got this. He must.
If you were to ask what went on between the moment he sat down, and the moment he stepped outside, Pete wouldn’t be able to tell you. It’s a blur, in the way shootouts are, only far worse. After them, Pete had at least been able to give reports.
The sun hits his face, effectively waking him up. Other students are already outside in groups, comparing answers and plans for their vacation. Pete breathes in once, twice, letting the fog fade away completely, blocking out any random information he overhears about test answers. He looks around and there, in the shade under a tree, Vegas is menacingly typing on his phone, as if it has personally offended him. To an outsider, he seems angry, but Pete can see the nerves, the worry.
Vegas does not raise his head until Pete is right in front of him. When he does, the expectant look on his face is disarming. The words get jumbled in his throat, going down his lungs instead of coming out, so all Pete manages is something between a sound and a cough. Vegas remains undeterred, waiting for an answer to his silent inquiry. It takes a few moments to compose himself, before he can blurt out something intelligible.
“It’s over.” Is what he settles on apparently. It becomes real as he says it, the realisation hitting him with the force of a truck; he’s done what he could, there’s only waiting ahead, which is probably worse. At least he had something to do up to now.
Vegas draws him in a shallow hug, whispering congratulations. It’s difficult for him, Pete knows, being affectionate, especially in public. Vegas is carved from violence and anger, gentleness is not in his vocabulary, certainly not in the way people are used to. He appreciates the sentiment, lackluster as it may seem to an outsider.
“And now what?” Vegas asks, letting go at the same time. It’s a good question, great even, and Pete would be delighted to know the answer.
“I guess I can only wait for now. I don’t even know if I passed.” Vegas tsks at him, indignation evident in that beautiful face.
“I know you did great. I’ve seen your practice tests, you’ll be just fine. What you have to do now is choose what you want to go into. It might be a security risk, we’ll have to figure that out-” Pete doesn’t let him finish.
“Can we not jinx it please? Can we just go for a drink tonight, and get me drunk enough to not have to think about any of this?” He pleads, already done with speculating on his results and what may or may not come. After the initial weight falling away from his shoulders, he finds himself slipping back to the old, practical Pete. One step after the other. Load, aim, shoot, in that order, no exceptions.
“Of course we can.” Vegas takes his hand and starts to drag him away, presumably towards the car.
“Although, I have a few more ideas to take your mind off of things.” And well, Pete’s mind is already starting to forget all of today.