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Fighting Fishbowls by baylop
TV » Degrassi Rated: M, English, Romance & Family, Zane P., Riley S., Words: 38k+, Favs: 48, Follows: 7, Published: Oct 28, 2011 Updated: Nov 18, 2011 22 Chapter 2: The Lightning Strike

Note: So apparently, Shannon has been at Degrassi rehearsals, which I find…very odd. It'd be such a bummer (or a super bummer, as Anya would say) if it meant Zane left Eastern or fell out of touch with Riley, but I guess it remains to be seen. tries not to be paranoid, because Zane coming back should be a good thing

On a different note, thank you all so much for your lovely reviews. I'm pretty busy, so it takes me a while to write, but I appreciate your patience! Also, I know some of the endpoints for these chapters seem abrupt—but as this is basically a giant one-shot I hacked into three pieces, cliffhangers were somewhat unavoidable. Though at least you get a promise from me that I'll finish this fic. :)

Riley is a terrible cook. It's a fact that Zane knows well, so he does most of the ingredient-combining himself, and lets Riley measure or fetch things instead.

(It's what they used to do, after all, back when they were still together.)

They avoid talking beyond the general requests and responses needed to work in the kitchen, and it's unbearably awkward. But Zane doesn't know what to say or where to begin, and Riley just keeps eyeing him and looking away. Like they're both teenagers again, paired up in yoga class.

And it's not going to work.

Zane feels too coiled and cagey, and Riley is simply too close; their forearms keep brushing, and surely you can't keep "accidently" bumping into someone.

(Something they both become guilty of.)

"So…how are you?" Zane asks at last. Starting things off, as always.

Riley makes a tentative, puzzled sound, like he can't believe Zane is actually speaking to him. Or attempting to speak to him. "I'm…good. Really…good. And, uh, how about you? How's…Capshaw?"

"In the bottom half of the football rankings," Zane says instantly, without even thinking. But Riley would know that, and that wasn't really what Riley was asking, and he doesn't even go to Capshaw anymore.

Stupid, stupid.

Riley gives him a slight, tinkering laugh, and something in Zane's stomach twists. "Okay," Riley says, "uh, then…how's the engineering thing going?"

Zane's body stiffens, but just barely. "I actually changed majors…"

(He won't lie about transferring to Eastern—he just won't bring it up.)

"Oh. That's…wow. I mean, it's a good thing; you gotta do what's best for you. So now what are you in?"

"Microbiology," Zane says, trying to sound blasé. "I'm actually looking to get into vet school."

Riley's eyes widen. "So someday it'll be Dr. Park, huh?"

"Hopefully," Zane muses, leaning against the kitchen counter. "It's gonna be tough, but I've grown to love the field and it's what I want, so I'm willing to work for it."

"Well, if it's even half as good of a career as Anya used to always say it was..." Riley's face falls a little, and so does Zane's.

(Because they both know how much it hurt their friend to abandon her childhood dream.)

"I didn't get a chance to tell her," Zane says, biting his lip.

"She won't mind. She'll be happy for you."

Zane nearly smiles. "So…what about you? What are you aiming for?"

"Sociology," Riley says, almost bashful. "Maybe it seems like a weird choice for me, but I really like it."

"But you like football more," Zane observes.

Riley shakes his head and looks down. Smiles a little. "Speaking of which, did you…do you ever watch the games?"

Zane almost wants to laugh at the way Riley is going about this. Almost. "You mean, the ones featuring you on the field?"

Riley flushes up to his ears, but still looks down at the tile. "Well, I…yeah, I guess. It's not that important, like, at all. I don't…it's…I'm sure you're really busy, and I'm only asking because we're in the same conference and—"

"I do," Zane murmurs, waiting until Riley meets his eyes to speak again. "All of them."

Riley gives him an odd look, something pained and surprised and sweetly unguarded. "So all of Capshaw's—"

"All of your games," Zane corrects softly.

(And he's not even sure why he's being so honest, why he's admitting to it, but Riley is right in front of him, giving him sad, longing glances in Anya's kitchen, and they're all alone and his own mouth won't shut up.)

Though Riley doesn't respond, just gives him a shaky nod of acknowledgement before going to check on the chicken in the oven.

And Zane knows that Riley's hiding from him, hiding his face.

Hiding whatever expression can't be suppressed.

.

They finish with the butter tarts and casserole in silence, and it's one that follows them into washing and drying the dishes. Through the overwhelming quiet of it all, Zane feels his impatience growing at Riley's stubbornness, at his willingness to just shut down whenever it's damn convenient for him.

"So how have you really been?" Zane asks finally, voice laced in frustration.

Riley takes a clean plate from his hand, scrubs it dry. "I already told you. I'm good."

A clipped response.

And just like that, the atmosphere of the kitchen has changed. They've been left alone to dwell in their own thoughts for too long. Everything is brittle now, on edge, and—

"I don't think you're being honest with me," Zane challenges.

(Because even as well as Riley's done—athletically and in the eye of the media—no one in that position can be good with everything. It's not possible.)

Riley takes another plate from him and glowers. "So I'm a liar now?"

"Well it wouldn't be the first time," Zane mutters, before he can stop himself.

Riley gives him an incredulous look and yanks a bowl from him. "What are you…is this about the Athena thing? It's been over two years and you can't—"

"Not just that," Zane says, his anger flaring. "Did you forget about how you used to just call me a classmate? How you would make homophobic cracks in the locker room while you were still trying to patch things up with me? How you kept trying to go back in the closet at every turn, pretending to be some—"

"Don't," Riley hisses, voice low. "I know, okay? I messed up, over and over, and I regret it, all of it. But I got out of all of that, even if it took forever—and for someone who apparently watches all of my games, you should know that. I'm not hiding. Or lying. Not anymore. So spare me the lecture for once."

Zane stares at him heatedly before picking up a dirty pan. He presses the spray nozzle over the back of it without thinking about the angle, and the water shoots out over Riley's shirt and face, soaking him. Riley blinks rapidly in response, little beads of water clinging to his hair and running down his neck. He takes a deep breath. Exhales.

(And it's like letting the air out of a balloon.)

"I should change," Riley says inaudibly, backing out of the kitchen.

Still angry, Zane shuts off the water and drops the pan in the sink. And after a few seconds of stewing deliberation, he follows Riley—across the living room, up the stairs, down the hall—until they're both standing in a room that's a little too distinctly decorated not to be…

But that would mean…

Zane sees the bookshelf filled with sports anthologies and novels that he'd once given Riley, back when they were still dating. The framed photographs lined along the shelves are all familiar—pictures of him, Riley, Anya, Peter—except for a few faces he doesn't recognize right away. Looking closer, he sees most of the Eastern football team represented, along with Coach Gamby and Matt Barnes, the man who scouted Riley. There are trinkets and childhood treasures, the photo booth strip of them tucked halfway into a government textbook, and this—this is clearly Riley's room. In Anya's house.

"So I think…this is the part where we need to talk," Zane says, watching as Riley searches through his drawers for a clean shirt.

"Okay," Riley says, keeping his back to him.

Zane sighs, and rubs at his neck. "How often do you stay here?"

"Just for the holidays. And any of the longer breaks I get from the team."

"Since when?"

Riley picks out a maroon shirt and sets it on the bed. "Freshman year. Anya didn't want me to be alone. And Harold and Pam, they treat me like family. It's…I'm beyond grateful."

"So what about your parents?"

"We're not exactly on the best of terms right now." Riley pulls the wet shirt over his head, using it to dab at his face before flinging it into the closet hamper. And watching him, Zane can't help but blush. It hasn't been that long, but Riley is so physically different. Just solid, compacted muscle everywhere, skin slightly tanned, slightly bruised. The quintessential athlete's body. And he can't tear his eyes away.

Thankfully, Riley is quick to change into the clean shirt.

(It's far less distracting.)

"Yeah, I kind of gathered that," Zane continues, trying to focus again, "but how—"

"I came out to them on Graduation Day, alright? Before the ceremony, mostly because I couldn't stand everything being so fake anymore. I wanted them to be proud of me for me. The real me. And I had to keep repeating that I was gay over and over for it to sink in, but when it did, they both just…lost it. Ma cried—and of course, it wasn't news to her—but she kept saying how it was only temporary and that it was all your fault; that you made me…dirty. Dad nearly socked me, and then he asked me why I would want to be this way. Maybe I should've waited. I don't know. I was just so tired. Ma stopped talking to me again, and Dad…he said that football would straighten me out. Make me better. And that's why they were so eager to get me home and packing…they thought that going to Eastern would fix things.

"So I left pretty quickly. They were distant and angry, and it was so miserable in the house. They didn't even see me off—just told me to 'be a good son'. My Aunt Margo and Uncle Paul went with me instead. And they've uh, helped me a little with outside expenses, but they don't, like, advertise it to my parents. It's less messy that way. And really, I love my aunt and uncle; they're beyond understanding and accepting, but…"

"They're not your parents," Zane says gently, toeing the carpet. "So when was the last time you saw them?"

Riley shrugs dismissively like it doesn't bother him, even though it clearly does. "Winter break in my freshman year. I thought giving them a few months to process stuff would help, but they just…refused to get it. Ma was still icy, and Dad told me to come back around when I had a girlfriend. And…Uncle Paul says they lie about me around other people sometimes, and to the rest of my family. They say I'm not really gay but just 'doing it for the media attention'. And I don't…since it bothers them so much, I try to avoid bringing them up in interviews. It's one less thing to deal with.

"So yeah, home's not too good right now. But I have my aunt and uncle, my teammates, Peter, Athena, Anya and her parents…and it's more than enough."

Zane looks at him regretfully. "I wish you would've let me help you, back then. To come out to your parents together."

Riley glares at him. "So they would've shut me out sooner? Are you nuts?"

"Look, it's awful the way things turned out with your family. I'm so sorry. I can't even imagine. But it's just hard for me to…" He shakes his head, runs a hand hotly through his hair. Looks away. It's best not to go there. Not now, at least.

But Riley eyes him. "What?"

He shrugs bitterly. "It's selfish, okay?"

"I'd rather you say it."

Zane folds his arms. "Fine," he says steadily, making sure to look Riley directly in the eye, to articulate every word, "I wasn't enough for you to fight for. Okay? Happy?"

Riley looks at him like he's grown a third eye. "That wasn't why I—"

"No. It was. I wasn't important enough to you. And do you know how shitty that made me feel? To know that you'd rather leave me instead of facing them? That you'd rather hide yourself, and after how far you'd come…"

"They hate…they would've hated me, kicked me out. Or sent me away somewhere. Is that what you wanted?"

"I would've let you stay with me. You know how highly my parents thought of you…you were practically family…"

"I didn't want to ruin things with my parents," Riley says warily, leaning against the wall. "Your parents never shunned you, or made you feel like dirt. They always accepted you, right from the start. They didn't have…issues. And with Ma and Pa, I didn't want to lose them. I wasn't ready to face the idea of losing them. I just wanted them to talk to me and acknowledge me, love me—"

"I loved you," he nearly shouts, hands falling to his sides and fists clenching. He feels his eyes start to water, feels the astringent sting, and he won't cry, he won't. "I loved you so much Riley, you drove me crazy half the time, but I would've done anything for you."

"Except give me time," Riley snaps, frantically waving a hand. "We only had months until graduation. You knew I was going to tell them when I left for Eastern. But you couldn't wait. You kept pushing. Nothing was good enough. I came out to the school, to my mom, but you didn't…one day you were fine with her coming to terms with it on her own, and the next you wanted her to deal with it straight up."

"There was a big difference between letting your mom work through the truth and letting your mom think you were dating girls again."

"She wasn't speaking to me, remember? Pretending to have a girlfriend—"

"—was a regression—"

"—was one of the stupider things I've done. I hurt you, I know. I just figured it would let me keep my parents happy and still be with you. I honestly thought it would solve things for the rest of the semester. It was never going to be long-term, but…it was unfair. I didn't think it through."

"Hiding doesn't work forever, Riley. And you were doing the same thing with your dad, and if you would've only confronted—"

"And there you go again. Being pushy. You wanted me to force them to face it, but I wasn't ready. And it wasn't your decision to make. Don't you get that?"

A silence settles in the room.

Zane nods minutely. Unclenches his fists. He knows the truest answer, the honest reality. He's had so much time to think about it, after all. But it's still difficult to force the words out of his mouth. "That…was wrong of me. I overstepped. And I thought I was helping you, but…it wasn't my call, you're right." He sighs. "But Riley, tell me: what good is a family that doesn't love you for you? Were you…were you really happy like that?"

"I wanted to keep my family together, at least until I went away," Riley says, pushing off the wall and walking towards him. "And you deserved to be with someone who could give you everything I couldn't. Someone confident and open and—"

"I wanted you."

Their feet are nearly touching now, snug against the carpet.

Riley shuts his eyes. "I know. I knew you would've kept trying to make things work. You would've tried to put up with me, no matter what. But I wanted you to be able to move on, find someone who'd…suit you better. That's why I never contacted you after we graduated, even after I'd come out to my parents. Like I said, I wanted you to be happy."

Zane takes a shaky breath, feels a familiar weight settling back in his chest like an old friend. "We were at different points. We should've…it wasn't…and later…"

He can't even verbalize the thoughts swimming around in his head, but Riley seems to understand.

"Yeah. Yeah. I just…all I wanted, more than anything, was for Ma and Pa to see how amazing…how much you meant to me."

The corner of Zane's mouth tugs up, just barely. "Meant to you? As in, past-tense?"

"You…I will never stop loving you," Riley mumbles, the words jumbled together. "Back then, I wanted it both ways; I wanted you and my family, and now," he gives an empty laugh, "I don't have either."

Seconds pass. The room turns hot and jagged.

(And once upon a time, they were two carefree boys, too jaunty and self-centered, full of a love that was strong but not strong enough, a bond that frayed with frustration and hurt and the fear of the unknown. But that was once upon a time, and now as young men, things have shifted around them, things have changed, things are different-but-not-really, because one feeling in particular has never left. One feeling will never leave, not ever, and that's just the way it is. So help them both.)

Zane tilts his head, showing Riley everything and nothing all at once. "Are you sure about that?"

There is no teasing or animosity to it. Just a quiet look and a simple question.

Riley blinks, lips slightly parted, and his bewildered-yet-shyly-hopeful expression is one of the many things that Zane has missed so dearly.

"You…what are you saying?"

Zane takes his hands and slowly drags them up Riley's chest, trying not to get too distracted by how much more solid and defined everything feels. He loops his arms behind Riley's neck, sees the deep flush that spreads over him. Their noses bump.

"You still have me," Zane murmurs. "You do. Because you want me to be happy, after all."

And you make me happy.

Riley gives the barest hint of a smile before kissing him hard, and that's nothing new, but then Riley's sighing into his mouth, fingers trembling around his waist, and Zane finds it hard to remember it ever being like this. Hands fly, tongues slide, and Riley lifts him up in his arms, pulling him close and depositing them both onto the unmade bed. It's almost the exact position they were once in, rolling around in the grass at 17—as the summer was fading and football season was about to tear into everything. But this time, Zane is the one with his knees framed around Riley's hips, holding Riley's wrists to the twisted sheets.

"I've…really missed you," Riley says huskily, looking up at him with a wide smile.

Zane hums in agreement, kissing down his jaw, his neck. Over the place where he'd kissed last, on a dim night at the Dot when Riley had asked him to take a seat, he bites down, sucking the skin red and raw. Riley bucks up against him, muttering something that is probably a muddle of Greek and English, and it takes all of Zane's strength to keep him still. Pulling his teeth away finally, he brushes his thumb over the newly-damaged skin in silent satisfaction.

"I think I might always hate this spot on you," Zane says. "Considering its bad memories and all."

"The unknowing goodbye kiss," Riley says in listless recognition, laughing lightly. "I could definitely live with you punishing me."

"You better," Zane warns blithely, straightening up to rest against Riley's bent knees. He smirks thoughtfully. "So…where to begin…"

(It has been such a very long time. He wants to do everything and anything all at once.)

He pulls up Riley's shirt, rubs his palm against warm, bare skin, soft despite constant conditioning. And he knows he's staring, because Riley takes his wandering hand and settles it flat over his exposed stomach, and asks if he hates this spot too, eyes bright.

Zane just leers at him. "Shut up."

Slowly, he leans back down to kiss him, little affectionate nips that turn into quick kisses followed by deep kisses that are too wet, sloppy almost—and it doesn't matter because this is Riley under him, squirming impatiently and forever flustered. He works the button of Riley's jeans, tugs them down halfway so he can skim his fingertips over the taut skin just under the elastic of his boxers, chuckling as Riley's voice catches in his throat.

Languidly, he presses his lips to Riley's ear. "So if at any point, you want me to stop—"

"Don't even start with that," Riley growls, yanking their hips together with a practiced finesse Zane had forgotten about. "You're always such a damn tease."

"Only with you," he grins, mirroring Riley's movements. As they continue to grind together, he's still fully clothed and he doesn't care, balancing his weight on one hand and worming his other between their bodies. He kisses Riley's temple, a quick, wet smear of adoration before pulling his boxers down and trailing his fingers along Riley's cock, sluggish and without real purpose. Still teasing, just because he can, until Riley turns his face with a calloused hand and gives him that look, manages a strangled please, I need you and envelops him completely.

Kissing his cheek, almost as an act of contrition, Zane starts to stroke him in earnest. He shivers at the warm puffs of air that fall just under his right ear, where Riley has buried his nose, smirks at the feeble whine Riley makes as he thrusts up into his hand.

"I love you so much," Zane whispers, the words floating crisp and free as anything. And it's only a few seconds more before Riley gasps brokenly, surprised as he comes too soon, hot and sticky over Zane's hand and their clothes and the sheets and it's—

"Oh," Zane says, blinking rapidly. "That's…"

Did he really just…

Riley gives a disbelieving half-laugh, a sweet, sleepy sigh that shakes through them both. "Shit. Sorry, it's been a while since I was uh…last with someone."

Zane sits up, watching as Riley moves to button his jeans. Dryly, he raises an eyebrow at him. "Right. Or, I could just be that good."

Riley chews his bottom lip. Traces his fingers shakily over Zane's jawline. "Well, you are, but I shouldn't flatter you so much."

"You know I don't mind it," Zane mutters lightly, moving to clean them up as best as he can with the bed sheet.

Riley kisses him again, and after a moment, he scoots back until his head is propped up against the pillows. His hair is sticking to his forehead, cheeks the slightest shade of pink, mouth red and swollen and this is real again, and—

"Well?" Riley says, beckoning him over.

Zane gives him a dazed look. "What?"

"Are you gonna take care of that by yourself?" Riley asks jokingly, pointing to the straining bulge in his jeans. "You'd sort of hurt my feelings."

Zane grins toothily and crawls over, his smile faltering as Riley has him kneel around his shoulders, undoing his jeans and pulling them down with his boxers just enough to free his cock. Blue eyes determined, Riley's fingers curl around his hipbones, tugging his pelvis forward towards his face, towards his mouth.

"You…oh. Oh," Zane says dumbly, grabbing the headboard instinctively and heart already hammering against his chest. "Are you sure that you want to…"

Riley leans forward to kiss the tip of his cock, blunt nails digging a little into his hips as he does. "Just let me, okay? I want to make it good for you."

Zane nearly rolls his eyes, wondering how Riley can be so cheesy and yet entirely genuine in everything he says, but then Riley takes him deep into his mouth without warning, and his mind readily checks out and flies away.

At first, all he can do is rest his forehead against the bedroom wall, and it's a good thing it's some sort of squashy, padded design and not hard plaster, because he thumps his head at least twice, letting himself be blindly taken in by slick, continuous heat.

Gripping the headboard tighter to balance himself, he pulls back a little, looks down—and sees that Riley's been examining him the whole time, eyes both knowing and somewhat mocking. Urging him. So experimentally, he rocks his hips forward, just barely, and Riley just takes him in further, mouth stretching and cheeks hollowed. It's not the best angle, and Zane knows that Riley is really having to work to hold him in, to not slip up and use his teeth, but it's the clear, unapologetic challenge in Riley's eyes that makes him continue to slowly thrust into his mouth.

He can barely form syllables, so he sticks to shuddering like some dazed, winged thing, hands moving to cup the sides of Riley's face, thumbs brushing over wet lashes. He feels as Riley starts to rub circles over his hypersensitive skin, feels him hum around him and it's just too much. He shuts his eyes, hands seeking out the headboard again and lips quivering. A low groan escapes him, and he stutters forward once, twice before tumbling over the edge, knuckles white against the polished wood as Riley swallows.

The room falls silent, save for the ceiling fan that whirls lazily above them. Moments later, he remembers to breathe, feeling the air bristle over his skin in scattered patches. And bit by bit, he pulls away, refusing to look at Riley's smug mouth as he inches back down.

(He settles on top of Riley without worry, because he knows that he can take it.)

Lying together, they're too warm and too slippery in their clothes, as rumpled and dirty as they are. They'll have to shower, and do the wash right away, because this is Anya's house, a room in Anya's house, a bed in Anya's house, and hopefully Riley has something for him to wear, something close to his size, and yet…it can wait. Zane's in no hurry. Feeling the body beneath him rise and fall is enough.

"So…I don't think you lasted much longer," Riley says after a long moment, voice raucous and too thin.

Zane pants, shifting his head under Riley's chin. "Yeah right. I totally did. By a lot."

"We're being very mature," Riley laughs, easy and familiar. And Zane has missed that sound, missed all of it.

Missed him.

And…

And…

"I transferred to Eastern," Zane blurts out, instantly feeling ten times heavier on top of Riley.

"You…what?"

Zane sighs guiltily. Swallows. He's never been one to hide away from the truth, and even as they're crumpled together and he can feel every place where skin meets skin, he's not going to start. "I'm…not at Capshaw anymore. I transferred to Eastern because I changed disciplines. I wanted to take advantage of its pre-vet classes, and with pharmacy being my backup if I didn't get into vet school right away, it made sense. To switch."

Riley drags a clammy hand up his back, touches the base of his neck—silently requesting him to turn his head. But Zane's not quite ready for that yet.

(He's waiting for Riley's reaction.)

"How long have you been there?" Riley asks, a little strained.

"This past fall semester was my first."

Minutes pass, led by the slight rocking of the ceiling fan and their own uneven breathing. Eventually, he feels Riley's hand sweeping through his hair, combing through the sweaty tangles, while the other grips over his shoulder blade, crushing them further together, so their heartbeats rattle like lightning between them.

"How did you do?" Riley finally questions, his voice free of anything unpleasant. "For the semester?"

"I…became good friends with quite a few people, aced my classes. Did some work at a ranch and an animal shelter. Kept…busy."

Riley brushes his fingertips behind Zane's ear, making him shiver. "So you didn't move three states over to be with me. Good to know," Riley says lightheartedly.

"To be honest, you were just a bonus. Every home game, I got to see your face blown up on the stadium's jumbotron," he replies, matching Riley's joking tone. He shifts his head, and feels another wave of honesty surge through him. He figures he has nothing to lose by it. "Well…maybe you were a tiny part of my motivation for going. I did have other options, other acceptances. You might've tipped the scales a little. I…missed seeing you," he admits.

"But not enough to come find me…"

"Well, neither did you."

"I already told you, I thought you'd be happier if—"

"Look, I didn't know what to expect," Zane relents, letting out a deep breath. "Or whether you'd even want me around. Because you've done so well. All the trash people were saying, especially at the beginning before you could really show them…it just blows my mind. I was…I'm just so completely impressed—"

"Because I'm a quarterback who wins games?" Riley assumes, like he's heard it all before. "I have to win, I have to get everything right, because any little screw-up or stupid blunder and the hate starts back up. And you'd think it'd be the same kind of crap any other player would get for sucking, but it's not. It's always different for me. I just wanna play, but the things people ask in interviews sometimes, the stuff they publish, it's…I'm not allowed to be like everyone else," he finishes quietly. "But you're proud of me for that?"

Zane shakes his head against Riley's chest. Reaches up to run a hand through his hair. "I'm proud because you've done it on your own. Without me. And that's…the way you've navigated through everything…it's inspiring. You inspire me," he says, rushing through the last bit because even though he means it, saying that he looks up to Riley is such a change of pace from everything their relationship used to be.

"Zane…I don't…"

Riley lets out a hazy breath, and Zane can tell that Riley is struggling to wrap his head around such an admission. Struggling to put words back into his mouth.

"I was always trying to channel you, whenever things got really bad. That Zen thing you do so well. I still try to channel you," is what Riley finally settles on.

"So we're each other's inspirations," Zane offers lightly, nipping a spot on Riley's collarbone and realizing they're both blushing like crazy, too overwhelmed by compliments. Too unused to hearing them from each other. "Then you're not terribly upset, all things considered?"

"Well, are you planning on staying at Eastern?"

He smiles easily against Riley's skin. "Yes, for the foreseeable future I—"

Riley makes a content, giddy sort of noise before hugging him tightly and flipping them around, so he's on his back against the mattress and Riley can hover over him, look him in the eye.

"See, I could try to be angry," Riley says with a grin, "I mean, you didn't even bother to say hello. But we both kinda screwed up. And I don't want to think about all the time we've spent apart—and whether that could've been shortened or not. Right now, what matters to me is that I'm doing what I love at Eastern, that I won't be able to thank Anya enough for dragging you over here, and that I have you with me again. You being at the same school as me just takes the long-distance thing out of the equation. So that's like, a win-win situation all around."

Zane matches Riley's grin with one of his own, feels his heart flutter stupidly in his chest. Brings Riley's face down to kiss him, to lick into his mouth and bite at his bottom lip and draw out little happy sighs from him that are quickly becoming his new favorite thing.

"So I think," Zane decides breathlessly, brushing his foot against Riley's calf, "that you might be stuck with me. For quite some time. Ages, even. If that appeals to you…"

Riley kisses the corner of his mouth. Nods briskly. "I think that sounds amazing."

.

"So there was Brian and Andy and who else?"

"That's it," Zane assures, switching the loads in the wash. "What about you?"

Riley looks away, plucking lint from the dryer screen. He seems almost meek standing in his socks in Anya's basement, sporting a clean pair of jeans and a Silver Dan's T-shirt. "I…I didn't really…"

"Wait," Zane says, gaping at him a little, "you didn't date anyone?"

Riley looks down. "Is that a crime, or something?"

"I didn't mean it like that. Sorry. I just assumed…you're such a big deal on campus, and—"

"Did you ever hear a story about my love life?"

Zane thinks for a moment. "Not really."

"So if I'd had one…"

"…everyone would've found out sooner or later," Zane finishes with a slight frown. "So much for privacy."

Riley shrugs. "I sure do miss it. I'd come to Eastern knowing that I'd have to earn people's respect, just like everyone else. That I'd have to work harder than ever before to do well. But everything was overwhelming at first. So when we started winning games and kept winning games, I could relax a little. But I didn't want to mess that up for anything. So the idea of dating was just…not good at all."

Zane smiles slightly. "And if I'd been with you at Eastern right from the start?"

"And we'd gotten back together?"

"Well, yeah."

"Then I would've been lucky to call you my boyfriend. And anyone who had a problem with it could fuck off."

Zane takes Riley's hand in his own, rubbing circles into the inside of his wrist. "It sure would've been something."

"Hey," Riley says, "it still can be something. When we go back to school in the spring…I mean, if you don't mind the possibility of your face being circulated around Facerange or worse, then…"

"Yeah," Zane says. He sighs gently—reminds himself that the past is the past. Riley's here with him now. That's what counts. "So you never saw anyone, period?"

"I didn't date. I just, kind of…"

"Hooked up with someone?" Zane supplies carefully.

"Just one guy, and it wasn't some sleazy thing. I knew him. And…I'm pretty sure I told you about him at some point."

Zane makes a face. "Please don't tell me it was Nathan…"

Riley laughs. "What was so bad about him? He was totally decent; if anything I was the one who—"

"Riley, he was borderline stalking you in the woods and went down on you next to a tree. That's creepy."

"So anyone who gives me a blowjob in the woods is a weirdo? Cause I remember that one time during Spring Break when we were running together, and you decided to stop, and then you went and pulled me next to that bush and—"

"Okay," Zane yields, cheeks flushed. "But it wasn't Nathan, right?"

Riley scrunches up his face. "You remember Sam?"

"Oh no. Sam Taylor?" Zane says, unable to stop the fit of disbelieving laughter that rocks through him. "No way! The lifeguard instructor? What was that, your third crush? Who you went and punched? How did that even happen? What happened?"

"It was a one-time…a two-time thing, alright? Last winter break, I was…we were at the same party, and we ended up talking—like, really talking—and then we left to have coffee, and—"

"Was it any good?"

Riley blinks. "The coffee?"

Zane glares at him. "No…after the coffee."

"Right. That. Uh…yeah. It was…" Riley blushes somewhat, looks up at the ceiling. Makes a whirling motion with his free hand, trying to settle on the right words. "Different, I guess."

(It's the way Riley says it that makes Zane's expression sour.)

"Wow," Zane remarks, "different, huh? And here I was gonna say that Brian and Andy couldn't hold a candle to you…"

Riley squeezes his hand. "Did I say Sam was in the same league as you? Cause he wasn't, at all—you're too…everything. I was just…I wanted to see what would change, being with someone else. Like that. I was lonely, and Sam was so understanding. He…got it. And afterwards, when I told him that I still missed you—"

"Riley, you don't say that to someone right after sleeping with them..."

"But it was the truth," Riley protests, "and Sam…he said he figured I was still hung up on you. That he could kinda tell when we were…you know. Said to either give it more time or go do something about 'my pining heart'."

Zane chews the inside of his cheek. Lets out a long sigh. "Well, since we're being totally frank and sort of terrible, I did think about you sometimes. At Capshaw. When I really shouldn't have."

Riley's eyes widen a little. "Like, when you were with your boyfriends?"

"Maybe," Zane says indistinctly. "I mean, in certain intimate situations I might've imagined—"

"Zane! That's so bad," Riley says, grinning and tugging them together against the gurgling washer. "So I'm that unforgettable, huh?"

"You're a complete handful," Zane corrects. "And you're mine."

.

They're sitting on the couch watching Nicolas Cage make a fool of himself in The Wicker Man when Anya returns home with Athena, the contents of their shopping bags overflowing in their hands. He and Riley stand up to help, but Anya quickly drops her bags by the door and marches over in quick strides. Pulls Riley aside.

"Well?" she asks.

Riley's mouth twitches. "Well what?"

"Don't play dumb with me," she warns. "We always talked about if this day ever came. And…oh. You both changed clothes," she observes with a crooked smile.

"We made a mess in the kitchen…"

"Right. And Zane's in one of your old practice shirts because—"

"He had nothing else to wear."

Zane awkwardly goes to help Athena with her things, and notices the girl's slight blush as she mumbles her thanks. "What's this all about?" he whispers curiously.

Athena blushes further and shakes her head, points to Anya, who now has a hand on either side of Riley's face, looking fiercely into his eyes. It almost passes for a staring contest, the seconds ticking by, until finally, Anya blinks and notices the love bite on Riley's neck…and lets out a girly squeal so high-pitched that Zane nearly winces.

"Oh. My. God," Anya says, voice filled with buoyant laughter as she kisses Riley's cheek and hugs him. "I can't believe that you two already…you guys are such guys. Damn. What did I tell you Athena…I am officially the best re-matchmaker in the world!"

"Anya," Riley says uselessly, "I didn't even say anything…"

"Oh come on, I know you too well," she insists, tugging at his shirt and a smirk playing at her lips. "And if you didn't have the most obvious I-just-totally-got-laid face, then maybe…but hey," she says, switching gears and looking around, "where did you two actually—"

"O-kay," Zane quickly interrupts, motioning Riley over to help him with the rest of the bags.

Yet Anya flaps a hand in his direction and marches over to him, wraps her arms around his neck. "Oh, don't worry. I'm too happy to mind. Just as long as you guys are happy…"

"Definitely," Zane answers, smiling and brushing a lock of blond hair out of her eyes. "I guess…we both owe you one?"

Anya winks. "Seriously, where would either of you be without me? But tell you what. Just name your first adopted baby girl after me and we'll be—"

"ANYA," Riley bemoans, a hand at his forehead. "We've only been back together for six hours. Take it easy."

"It's never too early to start planning these things," Athena teases, walking over. "I expect to get an invite to the wedding someday, you know."

The girls giggle together as the four of them carry the bags into the living room, sitting down at the center coffee table to wrap up the various presents.

(And Zane is actually surprised that there are presents to wrap up, that Anya really did go shopping as she said she would. Because Harold and Pam certainly didn't go to see a play...)

Talk is comfortable as they get caught up. As Riley had predicted, Anya takes the news that Zane's studying to be a vet well—and has another mini freak-out when she learns just where Zane's studying ("Roommates! I'm calling it now…"). And Zane finds it enjoyable to be with familiar faces; getting back into the swing of things.

It's almost like he's never been away.

It turns out that Athena's at TU with Anya—also studying psychology—and they both tell tales of some of their wackier professors, like the one who married one of his former students, and the one who's lecturing tone sounded so much like a lullaby that it put students to sleep within five minutes. Zane mentions his roommate Daniel, a recent experience helping veterinarians at an endurance ride, and some of the perils of having a bad biochemistry TA. Riley talks about a few of the weird, superstitious practices his teammates have on game day—like his roommate Marcus needing to chew exactly seven green Tic Tacs, or linebacker Cal and his Bee Gees music—and some of the more…colorful…stories of some of the guys. So after about twenty minutes, Zane knows most of the team by name, position, and at least one interesting fact the general public isn't privy to.

"So tomorrow," Anya announces suddenly, brandishing her pair of scissors, "there's an early holiday party at—"

"—Above the Dot?" Zane assumes, taking a roll of wrapping paper with penguins on it and grinning.

Riley nudges him. "Dude, where else?"

"So," Anya repeats, louder this time as she raises an unamused eyebrow at him, "I assume you'll be going, Zane? This is sort of an unofficial reunion. Alumni night. Lots of old faces will be there. It's become tradition for most of us who happen to be in the area."

"I'll be there," Riley says, frowning as his fingers get tangled in a long strip of tape. "As always."

Zane chuckles. "Well, then I guess I have to go. You leave in three days for your bowl game, and I'll be missing you like crazy."

Riley smiles broadly and kisses him, sending the girls into a spirited tizzy. "Jeez, you're gonna turn into such a softie…"

"Well, I couldn't possibly manage to be a bigger one than you already are," Zane counters airily.

Anya raises a finger. "I totally concur."

Riley flicks a tape ball at her, and Anya just sticks out her tongue and throws it back at him.

"They can be such children sometimes," Athena whispers, rummaging through a bag for a bow. "Like brother and sister, even. Especially now, considering how things are with Riley's family. It's really brought them closer together."

"Yeah," Zane agrees, observing their interactions with a smile. How Anya chides Riley for an especially sloppily-wrapped present. How they get distracted by the TV, where Nicolas Cage is, for some reason, holding a gun to a woman on a bike.

"I know Riley was a bit unfair to you, back then," she continues, as Anya and Riley are still engrossed by what's on the screen, entranced by the horribleness, "but it's been pretty rough for him, these last few years. Gaining acceptance from the team and the fans. The whole mess with his parents. This is the most animated I think I've ever seen him. You're…good for him."

"He's good for me too," Zane says, completely truthful. He turns to look at her fully. "I'm determined to make it work this time. We both are."

Athena nods in relief, tucks a long strand of hair behind her ear. "Good. That's what I needed to hear."

.

Pam and Harold arrive home later, and they're very much like Anya in that they expect a full relationship status update right away. Upon learning that he and Riley are back together, they both walk over and...give them enthusiastic high-fives.

(Riley seems very accustomed to this sort of thing with them.)

"It was only a matter of time," Pam says with a smile.

Harold looks over at his daughter and grins. "When our Bumblebee sets her mind to something…"

"She usually gets what she wants," Riley laughs, as Anya flips her hair back unapologetically.

Dinner starts off without a hitch. It's the six of them sitting at the dinner table, and conversation flows from university talk to Pam's health (which thankfully is still very good) to the team Riley will be playing against. Zane is pleased to see that Anya's parents are as easygoing as ever—slightly goofy but still loving and nurturing all the same. Clearly, it's been a good fit for Riley, staying with the MacPhersons in his off-time.

(All things considered.)

As dinner wraps up and Anya's parents insist on washing the dishes themselves, Zane leans over and nudges Riley's shoulder. "So have you considered where you'll be spending the night?"

Riley shakes his head in confusion. "Uh, here? Where I always do…"

"Okay," Zane says, "have you considered changing your sleeping arrangements? Because I happen to have a very spacious house, as you may recall."

"And a very comfortable bed," Riley adds slowly, with a wicked smirk. "Is that an offer you're making, or…"

Zane squeezes Riley's knee under the table, making him jolt. "Figure it out."

Anya laughs openly at them as Riley mutters some excuse about not wanting to be a burden. Athena shakes her head, giggling and grabbing her purse, and Harold and Pam give them matching, knowing smiles.

"Well Riley, you know you're always welcome here…when you want to be," Pam says with a quiet wink.

He and Riley bid them all goodbye, Riley slightly red-faced as he tightens his grip on his travel bag. It's stuffed with enough essentials to last him a few days, which is as much time as he still has left in Toronto before his flight.

"In the future, I think you'll be transferring more of your stuff over to my place," Zane says smugly as they walk to his car. "Not that the MacPhersons aren't terrific or anything."

The night air is colder than usual, even for winter, and their breath puffs out in front of them, little vanishing clouds that mix under the streetlights.

Riley manages a dry laugh, and throws his bag in the backseat before leaning against the vehicle. "Look at you, sounding all confident…"

Zane leans up against him, laces their fingers together. Gives Riley the smile that's reserved just for him, the megawatt, totally innocent yet completely scandalous, I-know-you-so-well show of teeth that never fails to make Riley stumble a little. So it's a good thing they're against the car. "Are you gonna tell me I shouldn't be?"

Riley presses their foreheads together. "Not a chance," he swears.

.

By the time Zane drives them up to his house, it's well past midnight. He's somewhat surprised to see his parent's cars in the driveway—they're both home for once—and knows they'll be asleep, considering their long hours. So he and Riley take great care not to wake them, gingerly shutting the front door and kicking off their shoes in the entrance. They creep up the stairs in the relative darkness, as Zane can feel his way around well enough not to bother with the lights.

He leads Riley around corners and down hallways, and for his part, Riley actually remembers to avoid the lamp at the top of the stairs, and the desk that sits just inside Zane's bedroom doorway.

"You're still familiar with your way around here," Zane whispers, somewhat surprised, as Riley steps around the chest by the foot of the bed.

"Of course," Riley mumbles like it's nothing at all, peeling off his shirt and jeans, toeing off his socks, and depositing everything unceremoniously in a pile on the carpet. Standing by the window, he looks almost like a ghost in the scant traces of moonlight, sleepy and pale. "C'mere."

Riley pulls Zane over to strip him down as well, and Zane wants to protest that he's not a child, but he's still shivering a little from the bitter cold, and Riley's hands are so warm against his skin, easing any kind of complaint right out of him. With a somnolent yawn, Riley draws them both down onto the mattress, fits the sheets around their bodies like a snug cocoon. They've never been ones for spooning in bed, ever—Riley tosses around in his sleep too much for that sort of thing, and has the unfortunate habit of sometimes kicking—but this time, Riley curls an arm around Zane's waist and tucks their bodies together. Nuzzles the back of Zane's neck.

And sleep comes quickly for both of them.

.

To get out of bed in the morning, Zane has to twist out of Riley's ironclad grasp, elbowing him a little in the process, and Riley is still dead asleep by the end of it. Blearily, Zane checks the clock on his nightstand, and sees that it's 6:30. He stretches as he stands up, hair sticking up everywhere as he rubs at his eyes.

And by the time Zane brushes his teeth, showers, dresses, and fixes his hair, Riley is still sleeping soundly on the bed—right where Zane expects him to be. Because honestly, Riley could sleep half the day away if he wanted to, without the help of an alarm or (in the past) Zane nudging him awake.

But Zane lets him rest, since the party at Above the Dot doesn't start until late in the evening. Since Riley will be leaving for Orlando soon, and return to a grueling practice schedule in preparation for the big game. Since Zane would rather surprise him with breakfast anyways.

Yet bounding down the stairs, he's greeted by the smell of strong coffee and eggs sizzling on the pan. And sighs nervously in recognition.

(His mother is the only person who wakes up earlier than him.)

Guardedly, he wanders into the kitchen, and his mother smiles at him warmly, tells him to wash his hands before helping her with the rest of the cooking.

"We need to make quite a lot this morning," she says keenly, directing him to the still-wrapped bacon on the counter. "What with you and your father's voracious appetites, and me, and…Riley."

Zane just blinks at her and rubs the back of his neck. Doesn't verbalize the question in his head.

"His shoes were left with yours by the front door," she explains, handing him a pre-sprayed pan and a spatula, which he takes slowly. "So I went and took a peek into your room, and sure enough…"

He can certainly imagine the scene. Them coiled together, completely relaxed and breathing evenly. Riley's forehead pressed against the top of his back, an arm thrown over his hip.

"We're back together," he says, stating the obvious.

She nods. "A relatively new development, I would assume?"

He tilts his head. Chews his lip. "You could say that."

(He doesn't want to admit that it's been for less than 24 hours. But he's pretty sure his mother already has that sort of idea.)

He cuts apart the bacon and drops the strips into the pan to sizzle, spacing them out with the spatula. His mother takes a deep breath and looks over at him, the concern evident in her eyes.

"You didn't rush back into things?"

"I…we've talked. Worked things out. We're on the same page, now."

"So you went and sought him on your own?"

"Not…exactly."

"Then he found you?"

"No, we…Anya spotted me at the Dot yesterday, and I went home with her to catch up. And he was there, after all this time, and it just…it just happened."

"A chance encounter. Not a motivated encounter." His mother shakes her head and frowns, continuing to scramble the eggs. "And if Anya hadn't been there to help you both along? What then? I doubt Riley would be sleeping in your room at this moment…"

Zane looks away. "I think…I know I would've gone after him eventually. It just would've taken longer to work up the nerve." His mother raises an eyebrow at him negatively but he presses on. "For the longest time, I wasn't sure that I could be around him. Mom, I thought…I was afraid that I didn't matter, that he'd gone on with everything and I was just some distant memory. And I felt even worse for thinking like that, for not doing anything about it because I never…I'm not…"

(He is assertive. He is confident. He is not supposed to be unsure. He wasn't raised that way. It's not right. It doesn't fit. It's unacceptable.)

His mother smiles and takes the spatula from him. Turns the bacon herself so it doesn't burn. There's almost a sliver of regret in her gaze, and Zane prefers not to dwell on the meaning behind it.

"But Riley felt the same way I did," he continues, focusing more on the crackling of the food than his mother's scrutiny. "He thought he was doing me a favor by staying away from me—he'd thought that's what I'd wanted, so all this time, we were both just…"

"Failing to communicate."

"Yeah."

Primly, his mother puts a hand to her hip. "Sweetheart, I just don't want either of you getting hurt again. That boy wore his heart on his sleeve for you, and you did so much for him. But it all fell apart. Repeatedly. So you need to be sure that you're both ready to take that leap again. And I know you've been a bit sullen lately, but putting some thought into these kinds of decisions will benefit you tremendously in the long run. You can't be hasty, dear."

Zane swallows and touches her arm. "Mom…I love him and that's never faltered," he says calmly, looking at her more openly than ever before, needing her to see just how much Riley means to him. "And I didn't have that with Brian or Andy, or even Thomas. It didn't compare. At all. And back when Riley was such a big part of my life…there were so many misunderstandings. We made a lot of mistakes, but now…it's like everything is right again and he loves me just as much and—"

"How is Anya?"

Zane shakes his head slightly, jarred by the abrupt subject change. His train of thought scatters away from him like a spiderling. "She's uh…out of the army and going to TU. Studying psychology. Doing well."

"That seems like a good fit for her," his mother says carefully, turning off the heat to the eggs. "Sometimes, I think it takes a while for people to find their own way. Or," she adds, cupping his cheek with her free hand, "to find their way back to each other. When it really means something."

Zane laughs slightly. "So you're fine with it?"

"Wouldn't you put up a fuss if I wasn't?"

"Absolutely," he grins.

"That's my passionate boy," she says, stroking his cheek with her thumb. "You know, I've missed seeing both of your smiling faces in this house, and so has your father. And we were really starting to worry about you, Zane. So yes, I'm more than fine with it," she says, eyes teasing. "Now, when am I finally going to meet Riley's parents?"

There's a soft cough behind them, and they both turn their heads towards the sound. Riley shuffles around at the kitchen's entrance, standing barefoot in his wrinkled jeans and shirt from the night before.

"You probably won't anytime soon," Riley says, almost apologetically. "They, uh…"

"They're still working on accepting him," Zane supplies, noting the trace of tangible pain on Riley's face.

"And they…have a long way to go," Riley adds slowly, like the words sit bitter on his tongue. "But can I help with anything over here, Mrs. Park? I know it's been a while…"

"It certainly has," she says, walking over to him with outstretched arms and embracing him tightly. "You've been missed dearly."

Zane and his mother finish with the rest of the food, (politely) declining Riley's offer to help cook and assigning him to set the table instead. When Zane's father later strides into the kitchen ("Well, if it isn't the superstar! How've you been, son? Quite a name you're making for yourself over there…"), it's another round of explanations. Riley reluctantly goes over his current living arrangements, and Zane is relieved his parents are all for letting Riley stay over for future holidays and breaks.

(Not that he ever assumed that they would turn Riley away. Because besides Thomas, Riley was the only boyfriend who'd ever been to the house, and the only boyfriend they didn't mind going up to his room. They trusted Riley, because Riley had worked to earn that trust years ago. Sat for countless dinners and twitched under their careful examination. Charmed them with his awkward sincerity.)

They finish breakfast and Zane clears the table. Riley lingers with him, volunteering to clean the dishes. Zane's father rests a firm hand on Riley's shoulder, smiles and welcomes him back into the fold, so to speak, and Riley seems to feel the gravity of the man's rare display of physical affection. His mother kisses both of their cheeks, whispering something in Riley's ear before turning away with his father, giving them space.

"What'd she say?" Zane asks.

Riley grins at him. "Wouldn't you like to know…"

Zane huffs, smirking and raising the spray nozzle at him daringly. "Maybe you need a reminder of my water spraying skills."

"Is that so?" Riley says, laughing and raising his hands in surrender. "Well, if you're so desperate to know, she said…she said to look after you. To keep you safe."

Zane glares at him. "Oh, she did not."

"She did! Honest!"

Zane scratches at his chin, sighs. Searches around for his mother, who is nowhere in sight. "That's…I'm not some damsel that you have to protect."

Riley kisses him lightly, smelling like oranges and tasting like strawberry jam. "Oh, I'm well aware. But…if anyone were to lay a finger on you…"

"Like say, throw me in a dumpster?"

Riley makes a face as if Owen Milligan's visage is swimming in his vision. "That, or anything else, and I'd—"

"Report it to the proper authorities, I certainly hope…"

"…and not bash their brains in," Riley finishes, with only marginal difficulty.

Zane winks at him. "Glad to see the anger management classes are still working."

"It's a bit more than that," Riley admits, and Zane knows he's referring to the kind of instruction he gets at Eastern on how to behave in front of a camera. How to carry himself amidst the media.

(He makes a mental note to ask Riley about it sometime, because he's genuinely curious.)

"But thanks for…this," Riley continues, gesturing around at the kitchen. "It's nice to have places where I can just…I mean…"

Riley's words die in his throat, like he's lodged them back down, and Zane nods with a touch of sadness. Runs a hand through Riley's hair, gently scratching at the scalp. "I know," he says, watching as Riley shuts his eyes and leans into his touch. "Whatever you need, you have it here. Always."

.

When he, Riley, and Anya slip into Above the Dot (and it is slipping in, since Peter has the place packed so tight it should be a fire hazard), they squeeze past throngs of people towards the stage, where there's a little bit of breathing room.

Gazing around amidst the glowing lights and tinsel, Zane can see Fiona clustered with Declan, Jane, and Holly J, Alli arguing with Jenna about something, Bruce chatting up Chantay, Blue getting shot down by both Katie and Marisol, Dave looking slightly sloshed and staggering into Jake and Johnny, Clare talking with Adam—and they're all people he remembers easily for the most part. Nearly everyone is young enough to still care about high school ties, if only momentarily. Or more accurately, they're people who cared enough about Degrassi's dances to bother to attend an alumni event. And all of them are Degrassi alums—with a few exceptions. Such as Athena helping Peter with the drinks, or Sav being handsy with a girl Zane doesn't recognize.

It's almost odd to see so many familiar faces—people in his class and those above and below him—and hear about the progress they've made in their lives. Surreal, even. Like Wesley and Connor going on about their undergraduate research, after only attending university for a semester. Or Owen walking over and giving Anya a big hug, while Riley nods at him curtly, because apparently, Owen goes to TU, and hangs out with Anya often enough that he and Riley have some sort of grudging truce going on.

(And Zane is all for second and—looking over at Riley—third chances, so Owen's presence doesn't bother him in the slightest. He welcomes it, actually.)

"Dude," Owen says to Riley in confusion, only stepping marginally away from Anya, "why are you here—shouldn't you be practicing? You have your game in—"

"Coach Gamby gave us a few days off for the holidays," Riley answers swiftly.

Owen lets out a low whistle. "Well that's pretty fucking generous."

Riley smiles a little. "I know, right?"

And of course, Owen looks over at Zane, and back to Riley, and puts two and two together. He snidely asks if they're sucking face again, and Riley snaps back that they're sucking a lot more than that. The face that Owen makes in response is priceless, and Zane waits with bated breath for Owen's inevitably spiteful response…which never comes.

"Well, it figures," Owen mumbles, and leaves it at that.

(And all Zane can think is that Riley and Owen's rekindled, almost-barely-there-squint-and-you'll-see-it friendship is weird. Very weird.)

The live music for the evening is various alumni taking turns at the mic, singing holiday music and their own original music and just plain bad music. At some point, Sav rounds up Peter, Jane, Danny, and Drew subbing in for Spinner to do a Stϋdz set. It's polished enough to get cheers of encouragement from Holly J ("Go Sav!") and groans from Leia and Anya.

"They do this every year," Leia whines, stamping her foot. "Like I didn't hear enough of these songs when I was dating Danny."

"I'm just waiting for Sav to unveil a song for his new girlfriend," Anya says with a fond smile, shaking her head. "That girl he invited…she wasn't here last year."

"Who is she?" Riley asks, looking over at the young woman at the front of the stage, who's swaying to the music.

"Well, her name is Valentine Day…and yes, I'm being serious," Owen prefaces, counting off on his fingers. "And she goes to Smithdale, she has two cats, she's an English major, and her favorite poet is Charles Bood-air or Baudelaire or whatever—the dude who wrote about sex and corpses."

"So what, you had a nice, long conversation with her out of the blue? About her cats and freaky poetry? You hate poetry." Anya says suspiciously, folding her arms.

Owen shrugs. "I thought she was single. But then Sav came over and they were all over each other. So that was a bust. Why? You jealous?"

"Not at all," Anya huffs.

(Owen almost seems disappointed.)

When the Stϋdz wrap it up, Sav singles Valentine out and announces that he'll be singing "My Valentine".

"It's a little something I wrote for my favorite girl," he says into the microphone.

Close to the stage, Alli shakes her head.

"Uh, one of my favorite girls," Sav corrects, smiling sheepishly at his sister.

The song itself is trademark Sav Bhandari—equal measures of cheesy and heartfelt. At some point during the chorus, Riley goes downstairs to help Peter get some things out of his car, and everyone else shifts on their feet or stares at each other awkwardly. Valentine appears to really like it, and that seems to be what Sav was going for.

After ending the song and hopping off the stage, Sav blessedly signals Mo into DJ mode. The atmosphere automatically becomes more fluid and fun as people start to crowd together and dance. And actually, it's reminiscent of Degrassi's dances…without adding guns and knives and people going into labor into the mix.

The group Zane's standing with starts to dissolve, and soon he becomes the odd one out, left alone on the outskirts. Because Owen cautiously asks Anya to dance with him, and Leia shyly goes with Blue. Chantay's paired off with Bruce, Holly J sways with Declan, Sav has his starry-eyed Valentine, Bianca is teasing Drew, Johnny mumbles something to Alli and she laughs, taking his hand—and it's couples, couples, couples. Old couples, new couples, pairs he never would've thought of, people he doesn't know, people he knows too well…

And perhaps that's not the right word to use—couples—because most of them seem to be hanging around just for the fun of it. Nothing serious, nothing lasting—just a peek back at an old part of their lives. A chance to escape.

"Tis the season for reliving high school romances," a female voice says behind him, as if reading his mind. "These people hardly see each other, but they come here once a year to get googly-eyed and wallow in the past."

Zane turns around and locks eyes with Fiona Coyne, eloquently dressed as ever.

"Sorry if I startled you," she says. "I was bored. And you look bored."

"Do I?" Zane asks blankly. He doesn't know really what to say to her. The only time they'd ever spoken is when she'd once asked to borrow a pen. It seems superficial, but all he knows about her is that she was involved in the play that Eli wrote, that she passed out during Perino's final in Grade 12, and that Riley dated her. "You don't enjoy it here?" he asks, trying for something, anything.

"I come to this annual bash because Holly J likes catching up with people, and Declan goes wherever she does. But if I'm being honest, I've never liked this place of Peter's. The food is underwhelming and the air's always stuffy. Though the conversation's fine—that is, until people start ditching you," she says, jutting her chin in Eli's direction, where he's dancing with Clare. "All these people carrying torches and flirting with abandon and looking to score. It's like taking a trip in a gauche time machine. Every year there's a bigger crowd as more people hear about it."

"And then they get paired off," Zane says with a grin.

"For a few hours. I'd find it more tolerable if my girlfriend wasn't still in New York doing a photo shoot…I so hate being the third wheel."

Zane nods at her, unfazed by her words. He'd had no idea she liked girls, but…certain things Riley had once said made far more sense now.

"But you're alone too," Fiona continues, cracking a smile. "And you're single. So I guess it's not so bad on my end. Though it's odd that no one's swept you away yet."

"Well," Zane says, "I'm actually—"

"Hey! Sorry I took so long. Peter's car is a mess." Two strong arms wrap around his waist from behind, and Riley's voice hums low in his ear. "Having fun with Fiona?"

She blinks at them. "Why am I not surprised? Googly-eyes to infinity. Though, I guess, permanent ones? Like my brother and Holly J?"

"What?" Riley laughs in confusion, letting go of him.

Zane and Fiona share a look and a smile. "It's nothing," they say in unison.

Riley shrugs a shoulder. "If you say so." He glances over at him. "I asked Mo to put on a fast song. You wouldn't get to see my bad dancing otherwise, and I just trip over my feet with these ballads."

"A nationally-ranked athlete in the U.S., and yet you still flounder around on the dance floor, huh?" Zane grins, taking Riley's hand. "I've missed it, and I can't wait to see more of it."

"You two have fun," Fiona says, folding her hands and backing away, as if to blend in with the wall. Though for someone like Fiona, that would be nearly impossible.

"Wait," Riley says to her, as the song changes to something bright and up-tempo, with Mo giving them a thumbs up from across the room. "C'mon," he grins. "Join us."

"Yeah," Zane agrees.

Fiona gives them an undecided look, like she's mulling it over in her head, but ultimately she lets Riley lead them both to where the rest of their former classmates are jumping around. True to his word, Riley is still a terrible dancer, but that doesn't stop him or anyone else from having a good time. Fiona loosens up, smiles with her brother and Holly J and Chantay and Anya, tugs at Riley's shirt and says something in his ear that makes him laugh.

(It seems as if working together on Love Roulette and annual gatherings have mended things between them. No one's trying to cure their homosexuality. No one's a bitch. Maturity has settled in.)

And as the minutes pass, they're all ridiculous together, and a few people back away and give them looks like they know it. But they don't care. Because it's nice to slip back a little to a simpler time—now with clearer heads—if only for a while.

.

In two hours, he and Riley are back at his house, tangled together on his bed.

Riley's hands keep sweeping up and down his sides as they kiss, smiling and sucking and gasping into each other's mouths like it's all they've ever known. Sometimes it's so feather-light that Zane can barely feel it, and then Riley goes and slots his mouth so fervent and deep all of a sudden, and Zane has to pull away with a laugh, breathing hard like a racehorse against Riley's cheek.

Everything is so unhurried and drawn out that Zane's mind starts to wander, remembering the last time they were like this on his bed—on Riley's 18th birthday. He remembers how Riley had come over to his house after school, how Riley had been standing in front of the mirror, fumbling with the buttons on his purple dress shirt. How he'd made Zane anxious just by taking so long to get dressed—actually, by not taking long enough—because Zane was already struggling with the idea of being paraded around as a friend for the benefit of Riley's parents. And truthfully, Zane hadn't wanted to go at all in such a way, to be expected to smile and help keep up a fake family dynamic that would have to shatter sooner or later. It had practically unsettled his stomach. But he couldn't bring himself to say no. He loved Riley too much, and he'd wanted a way to get closer to Riley's father (who didn't know of his existence) and his mother (who had come to practically hate his existence). Being just a friend was better than nothing, he'd kept telling himself. Yet his manic tension had only worsened. So he'd let out an exasperated sigh and pulled Riley away from the mirror, set him on his bed and slid the fabric of Riley's shirt off his shoulders, dropping kisses as he went. Riley had stammered something about not wanting to be late, and Zane had assured him that they wouldn't be. That they just needed this (he needed this), that it was Riley's birthday after all.

Zane had taken him in quick, frantic strides then, bent Riley nearly double in the process, like they could just meld together, collapse into each other and not have to be anywhere else. And if he'd known that their brief coupling would be their last for years to come, Zane might've…gone about it differently. Tried to make everything count more.

So maybe it's fitting that when Riley finally presses inside of him now, that it's compulsively slow. And not in an unsatisfying way or even a teasing way, but almost as if every moan, every brush of fingers, every thrust is being ingrained, savored, and stored away. Zane groans weakly as Riley rocks into him, sighs at how soft Riley's grip is over his thighs, pulling him in, how tenderly Riley mouths at his collarbone. There are no marks tonight, no teeth, no scratches, just pressing and gliding and loving, and he knows that Riley can really hurt him now if he wants to—he's so much stronger, built up—but Riley just channels that energy and braces his weight. Makes Zane arch up into him and wind his legs around his body. Makes him whimper into Riley's neck.

"I think…you're trying to kill me with this," Zane rasps, flinging his head back against the pillow as Riley slides in again, so slow it practically aches, makes his nerves come alive like fire.

Riley manages a grin. "I never want to forget anything about you," he pants, the words slipping together like slush. He thrusts in again, rolling his hips as he does, and Zane cries out. "I want to remember this. I want you to remember," he adds, gnawing on his lip and pressing in again, making Zane slam his eyes shut, mouth open. "I don't want to rush. And you're being so good…"

Zane tries to respond, but all that comes out of him is an embarrassing noise than makes Riley snort softly.

And he's shaking now, feeling his legs slipping down, too slick with sweat to hold on. He knows that if he asks, Riley will sped up and stop this maddening thing, but he likes it too much, he realizes almost foggily, relishes in the quiet burn of every sensation being stretched out. Riley leans down, whispers soft words against his forehead, silly endearments that actually make Zane laugh as Riley presses in again—and it's like he can't stop laughing. Riley smiles and kisses him sweetly for it, shivers against his lips, and it's like nothing else.

Time loses its footing as his breath comes out sharp and hitched as Riley thumbs the inside of his elbow or presses a kiss to the center of his palm. Brushes the sweaty hair out of his eyes. Paints a trail with his tongue, drawing warm swirls over his skin anywhere he can reach. Finds the perfect angle that makes Zane pull at the bedding, whiny sounds hiccupping out of him.

He surrenders to the rhythm of it as Riley slides into him again and again, drawing him to the happiest, slowest-building brink he's ever known.

And at some point their eyes lock, dark and gleaming, and Zane knows they're both close, but Riley doesn't speed up, just grins and fits a hand around Zane's cock, working him expertly in time to his thrusts. Warmth floods through their limbs, leaps across their spines and scatters in waves, and Zane smiles and tugs Riley's head down to kiss him as they spasm together, pressed tight, their sounds getting swallowed up in each other's mouths and dying out on their tongues.

They stay wrapped together for quite a while after, heartbeats fluttering wildly, and finally Riley brushes his knuckles against Zane's temple and pulls out of him. Tumbles next to his side.

The movement makes the bed bounce a little, and Zane chuckles dimly into the hollow of Riley's throat, shuddering against him. "I don't think I've ever smiled so much," he says honestly.

"Well there's something I can be proud of," Riley says faintly, voice awash with tired satisfaction.

"You keep surprising me," Zane continues, dragging his nails up Riley's ribcage and feeling the goosebumps that follow. "But you'll drive me insane if we do it like that all the time."

"I just wanted…the last time we had sex here," Riley begins, sitting up with a bit of effort to roll off the condom and toss it away, "it was such a blur." He slumps back down so they're facing each other, flings an arm loosely over Zane's hips. "Everything else got in the way."

"So you do remember that day," Zane says carefully. "Or I guess, you don't really remember…"

Riley lets out a drowsy breath. "It was birthday sex. I mean, I remember you, I always remember you, but…I took so much for granted back then."

Zane fits more snugly against him, relishes in the simple, familiar warmth. "Well, it'll be different this time. Because we're different."

"But we're not…that different," Riley says quietly, shifting around so they're looking at each other fully. "You're still kinda bossy, you nag, everything has to be your way, and—"

"You're rash, and sloppy, and you take forever to do things," Zane counters, mildly unamused. "Like just now…how long did we even…"

Riley laughs, kisses his forehead and pulls away with a loud smack. "Dude, I wasn't checking the clock. But it's not like you didn't love it. Like, completely."

"That's beside the point," Zane mumbles, feeling his face heat up and not really caring.

"And the point is…what, exactly?"

Zane sighs. "I guess…that I want you around, so…I'm going to try to be less pushy. With certain things. Ease up somewhat."

Riley grins, and drums his fingers thoughtfully against Zane's lower back. "Well…that'll mean I have to stop giving you reasons to be so pushy. And I might have to work on that a little."

Zane pokes him. "I would say more than a little…"

"Well, I would say more than a little for you too."

"Mmm. Probably."

"So it'll be a work in progress for both of us. Fair enough?"

"It's a deal," Zane answers, unable to stop the wide smile that spreads across his face. And it practically hurts to smile now.

"Good," Riley says, sounding pleased. "So tell me, are you up for a surprise trip tomorrow?"

.

For the entire car ride the next morning, Riley refuses to tell him where they're driving to.

"What's the point of it being a surprise if I tell you?" Riley maintains, eyes on the road ahead. "Just look out the window or something. Thirty minutes and we're there."

Sighing through his nose, Zane watches as they zip by countless buildings. They pass Degrassi and the Ravine, and the old construction site of their first date—now a series of modest apartment complexes. They drive by little shops on street corners, desperate for last-minute shoppers. The trees whirl past them like skeletons, sparse at first and then fanning out into thicker foliage, and eventually, they approach a neighborhood of quaint houses, far from where either of them lives.

Riley pulls up to the curb of one of them and takes the key out of the ignition. "We're here."

Zane peers out at the modest grey house, at its cobblestone path and mahogany door with beautiful, decorative glass. The yard looks well-maintained from what he can see despite the light snow, meticulously landscaped with a touch of flare.

Riley turns to him, eyes revealing a smidgen of uncertainty. "Okay, so, maybe this is putting you on the spot, but…my aunt and uncle live here, and I was hoping that you'd like to meet them. I know it's nothing special, but they're completely awesome and when I called them yesterday and told them about you, they totally flipped. In a good way. And so, um…I thought…"

Zane tugs at Riley's collar. "I'd be honored."

"They're gonna love you," Riley says in complete confidence, the words whooshing out of him.

Zane smiles softly at that before unbuckling and stepping out of the car. He has a sneaking suspicion that Riley's trying to make up for the birthday dinner from years ago, but he doesn't voice it aloud—mostly because he doesn't mind it. If Riley's parents weren't about to embrace them anytime soon, the next best thing would be someone else in Riley's family. People who could be happy for them. People who cared. People Zane could make a good impression on, and not be treated like some kind of scourge.

Riley takes his hand as they walk up to the front door, swiftly kisses his neck, seems so relaxed—and Zane is instantly more eager to meet the relatives that Riley feels so comfortable around.

(So he barely notices the way the blinds to one of the nearby windows quickly opens and shuts. Practically thinks nothing of it.)

Before they can even knock, Riley's aunt and uncle swing open the door and literally greet them with open arms, seizing them up into crushing hugs and barraging them with questions before they've even stepped into the house.

How has school been? How's Anya? You know, we saw Athena the other day…

Ready for the game, sporto? Nervous? Don't be…

So this is the lucky boy? Well aren't you a handsome one! That smile, my goodness!

And what do you study, dear? It feels like we know so much about you already. Riley's gone on about you since high school…

Oh, you're both at Eastern now? Nothing long distance, eh?

Zane lets himself be kissed by Riley's Aunt Margo and heartily shaken by his Uncle Paul, multiple times, and it feels like being in some sort of blender. In all his life, he's never been so fussed over. And it's kind of nice. Different, and a little smothering, but…nice.

He and Riley barely finish answering the first round of questioning walking through the entranceway and hanging up their coats. In the living room, he's offered (handed) something warm to drink and a place to sit, and he watches amusedly as Riley is still fawned over. From the hallway, an old, chubby golden retriever waddles over to him, noses at his hand, and he scratches the dog's head, fingers sinking into coarse fur. The nametag reads "BULL", and Zane supposes that the dog looks more like a bull than acts like one, especially when Bull lets out a yawn and plops down next to him.

Riley manages to escape from his aunt and uncle's bustling long enough to stride over to him, grinning hugely and shaking his head, slightly sheepish. But before Riley can even take a seat next to him, Aunt Margo calls Riley back over in a quiet tone, brows furrowed.

"Do they ever let you out of arm's length?" Zane whispers to him with a smile.

"Not often enough," Riley answers, giving Bull a quick pat before sighing and trudging back over.

Aunt Margo pulls him in close, murmurs something in his ear while Uncle Paul hangs back, eyes trained on the floor, and it's at that point that Zane drops his smile. Because he knows secretive behavior when he sees it.

After a few, hovering moments, Riley steps away from his aunt. Glares at his uncle. Shakes his head. Looks around wildly.

And something's changed. Clearly.

Zane can see the flash of hurt in Riley's eyes, fresh like a stove burn, and Riley takes another step back, says something in Greek and his aunt replies with something else in turn. They carry on like that for a while, and Zane can't follow any of it, having only learned a handful of Greek words from Riley in the past. None of them useful in this situation.

"Give her a chance, Riley," his Uncle Paul urges, swinging the conversation back into English, hands on either side of his nephew's shoulders. "We wouldn't have agreed to this if we didn't think she was sincere about it."

"It's been months…years," Riley says. "She doesn't…how could you both just ambush me like this? I wanted…this was supposed to be about meeting Zane, not…"

"And we will, sweetheart, the day is still young," Aunt Margo says soothingly. "But for the moment, why don't you have an open mind, and let your mother—"

The kitchen door creaks open like a bad horror movie, and Zane's mouth goes dry nonetheless, because there are surprises and then there are unfortunate turns of events. Mrs. Stavros stands in the doorframe with her arms crossed in front of her, hair a little longer and less styled than what Zane had last remembered. Her eyes scan over the length of the living room, and fall slowly onto her son, lingering for what feels like a lifetime—an expression of a thousand combating emotions. Finally, she looks over at Zane, and her expression morphs again, because it's like she has the best poker face in history.

(The mask is back up.)

"Riley," Mrs. Stavros says, turning back to her son, "I know that you weren't expecting my presence today. And for being so sudden, I want to apologize. But when I called your aunt this morning and she let it slip that you'd be visiting…"

Her words seem brittle. Delicate. An icy silence settles in the air, broken only by a loud yawn from Bull.

"Ma," Riley mumbles finally, his body slumped at an odd angle, like he can't decide whether to be weary or miserable, "why are you here?"

Mrs. Stavros' mouth twists uncomfortably, but her gaze holds steady. "I'd like to have a word with you. Alone. Perhaps…in the kitchen? If you wouldn't mind…"

Riley turns to look back at him, and Zane nods with forced, vague reassurance.

(He's not sure what else to do.)

So with a visible, heavy swallow, Riley steps into the kitchen, and Mrs. Stavros shuts the door behind them.

And all Zane can do is wait.

.