Note: This features a bit of tinkering with the timeline, mostly around "Purple Pills" and "All Falls Down". I needed to stretch things out to make everything fit appropriately. Buy hey, the show ~does it too~.
1. Zane hates only one thing in bed.
There are a lot of things people assume about Zane—that his favorite color is purple (it's green), that he lives for his V-necks (he has like, ten), that he's neat and orderly in every way (have you seen his desk at home?). And then there's his hair, that trademark of trademarks. The pointing every which way, I-just-stepped-out-of-an-anime, "why yes, it does take a while to fix" 'do that is equally unmistakable and gravity-defying.
And so very, very soft. Surprisingly.
It's no wonder, then, that Riley has an itch to touch it freely their first time having sex, not content with the light fingering of the silky strands that'd come before in the back of the theater or on the football lawns. So Riley has Zane pinned to his bed, his mother most definitely away, and they're laughing every few seconds, breaths warm and hitched, because they are so very new at this. And Riley can't get rid of the light blush that stains his cheeks (What if I hurt him? What if I'm terrible? What if what if what if?), but then Zane is biting his lip and twisting his fingers wretchedly into the sheets, and it doesn't matter. Not really.
So from then on, everything is as perfect as a first time can manage to be. Until, of course, Riley reaches for a fistful of that wild hair in the heat of the moment, pulling hard, and Zane makes a startled grunt and reflexively knees him in the jaw.
And Riley swears he sees stars.
After that, everything's a whirl of mad scrambling, rapid apologies, and mutual embarrassment. Riley dizzily processes that Zane drops a kiss on the soon-to-be-blooming bruise, digging blunt nails into the small of his back, and it's only a (slight?) hiccup to an otherwise very memorable Saturday afternoon.
But one clock to the face is enough, thanks, and Riley never tries that again. Like, ever. And later, when his mother points a polished nail towards the purple contusion and asks what happened, Riley tells her he took a football to the face. Because that excuse worked for Drew once, didn't it?
2. Drew is a sloppy kisser.
The only good thing to look forward to as the football season ends is the epic house party that happens just after. It's become quite a tradition the few years it's been running, ever since some kid got fed up with the "way lame" school-sponsored athletic dinner that used to be trot out. It's to the point now that Coach Armstrong just smiles knowingly and warns everyone not to do anything too foolish.
The party itself is always held at one of the athlete's houses, and when Drew gamely offers his residence up for service, everyone just laughs openly in his face and goes with Virgil's place instead. Because seriously—have you ever breathed in the same space as Mrs. Torres and how long did you last?
So Virgil's it is, parents (naturally) away, and it's quite the scene—a big place and few rules. Everyone comes, and the party becomes a happy mix of brains, athletes, basket cases, princesses, and criminals. Or something like that. Riley goes with Anya and Zane, and once there, he manages to witness Dave creeping around Alli and Drew, Adam happily chatting up Fiona, and Sav and Holly J slinking off to...somewhere...all within the first hour.
And that's all very well and cool, but things only really get interesting when Drew ends up swiping most of Fiona's bubbly. Then everything's just dandy—the two dance heavily in a corner of the house, laughing loudly and being generally red-faced, wobbly, and out of their minds. Holly J is still MIA to take action, Adam looks peeved, and Alli is pissed, marching up to them in her chunky heels and pulling Drew away by the collar in a huff. Riley assumes there's a spat between them, but he's distracted when Anya steals Zane away to dance. Then Dave predictably trips and spills punch all over the front of his shirt, and it's upstairs to the bathroom for him.
At the top of the staircase, Riley sees Drew, slightly hunched, and idly he wonders how the guy made it up without any help—he's that trashed. Clucking his tongue, Riley pulls Drew into a supportive embrace, and Drew's face lights up in delayed recognition as he's tugged down the hall.
"Alli's madatme," Drew slurs, breathing slowly as the stench of booze rolls off him in waves.
"Dude, what'd you expect? You were making a fool of yourself," Riley reminds him, smiling slightly with something approaching understanding. "Dumbass."
"My ass is not dumb," Drew protests lamely, latching onto Riley a little tighter, and jeez is he out of it.
"Well, your ass is about to hit the floor if you don't focus on walking straight," Riley cautions as they near the bathroom door, but Drew naturally stumbles and they end up crashing into the wall. Then Drew has a death grip on his left arm—a hand on his bicep and a hand at his elbow—and all Riley can do is shake his head and side-eye him.
"Oops," Drew laughs hollowly, like he can't be bothered to put any effort into his voice. "Uh, sorry."
Drew pushes himself off the wall, yanking Riley along for the ride, and somehow they manage to enter the conveniently deserted bathroom without further mishap. Riley watches him carefully as he scrubs his shirt, feeling certain he'll puke, but Drew is nothing if not full of surprises, and simply splashes water on his face before announcing he's ready to go back downstairs.
It's only when they're stumbling together down the hall again, loitering just before that top step, that Riley feels a shaky pressure of fingers at his wrist, and another hand at his neck, cold and forceful. Riley blinks in confusion, turning around almost sluggishly, and barely manages a "What are you do—" before Drew is mashing their lips together like he'd planned it all along. That is, if it were actually possible for someone so smashed to plan such a thing.
It takes a second for Riley to realize that yes, this is actually happening, and another two seconds to conclude that Drew is a really clumsy kisser. At least while drunk.
The kiss is shoddy and wet, complete with teeth clacking, and it's like Drew is trying to press straight through him with his mouth. Like the wall behind them will suddenly disappear and they'll just be pressed together, falling into infinity. And really, it's not terrible, it's just messy and not the slow burn and trade-off of lips and tongue and biting that Zane—oh. Shit.
When Riley pulls away, Drew's expression is unreadable, fingers falling to dangle loosely at his sides, and Riley feels like he should say something. Anything. But it's then that Adam shows up along with Alli, their concern tangible, and the two escort Drew down the stairs. Adam throws a word of thanks at Riley as they go for "finding him", while Alli is far too busy lecturing Drew to notice him. And Riley figures it's just as well.
Much, much later, Riley walks out of Virgil's place with Anya and Zane. He watches as they twirl playfully under the streetlight's orange glow, demonstrating some dance step he'll never be able to follow, and it really hits him just how lucky he is to have them. How he'd do nearly anything for them, and tell them just about everything. So the "honesty is the best policy" thing kind of kicks him in the gut, and the night air works like truth serum, fueling his confession of a one-sided, drunken makeout session. He expects shock from them, and maybe a smidge of disappointment, but all they do is laugh. Zane isn't mad, because Drew came onto him after all and it didn't go far ("Right Riley? Right?"), and Anya teasingly asks if it was any good.
Riley is glad he doesn't have to lie to them about the (lack of) quality of an inebriated Drew Torres kiss.
So when Drew apparently has no recollection of anything that occurred that night, Riley doesn't consider what he does as lying so much as it is withholding information. He tells himself—and Zane and Anya agree—that it's in the best interest of everyone involved for him to keep his mouth shut.
But Drew forever keeps him on his toes.
3. Fitzy likes his rom-coms.
What to say about a guy who (loudly) pointed out your boner during CPR training at the pool? Who needled you about your sex life with Fiona? Who ate popcorn while watching you punch out the lifeguard instructor? Well, despite everything, Riley is pretty sure he and Fitz are friends, in the same way Fitz is casually friends with lots of people: Bruce, Johnny, Chantay, Blue, Larissa, Owen, KC, Bianca. They talk, and hang out on occasion, but Riley has never been to Fitz's house or spent more than three hours with the guy at a time. They're just not like that. And when the new school year starts, Fitz seems more interested in scuffling with "the kid with the beanies" and "the kid who colors on his nails", so it's all kind of moot, anyways.
So it's a Friday night when Riley is picking out a DVD for a study session/movie night at Anya's, and he just happens to notice Fitz standing by the rack across from him. Now normally, Fitz himself is never something he'd focus on (so not his type), but it's what he's holding onto that grabs Riley's attention—a copy of When Harry Met Sally in one hand and Mamma Mia! in the other. And Riley clearly doesn't muffle his snickering well enough, because Fitz's head snaps up in a way that's almost comical. Their eyes lock, and then there's a none-too-subtle attempt to hide the offending DVDs behind other, less conspicuous titles.
It's like the pool incident, only in reverse and minus the erections. But the panicked look on Fitz's face manages to make Riley feel a bit of sympathy.
"I'd pick Crystal and Ryan over the Meryl Streep one," Riley says, pulling out When Harry Met Sally from where Fitz had hidden it. "That's about the only time I'd say that. Uh, unless cheesiness and bad singing is your thing."
Riley holds out the DVD, and Fitz hesitates, eyes distrusting and disbelieving. His hand hovers awkwardly before finally closing over the plastic case and taking it back. And maybe it's just the store's poor lighting, but the smirk he gives bizarrely resembles that of the Eli kid.
"So you've seen 'em both?" Fitz asks, flippantly, leaning against the shelving. His initial embarrassment is all but forgotten.
Riley nods. "One by choice, one by force. I'm sure you can guess which is which."
"Yeah, well, this isn't...see, I've got a stupid friend who—"
"—right, man. I'm sure you do," Riley says, playing along. "I know it's not for Owen, though."
Fitz laughs at that, a real laugh that makes the tips of his eyes crinkle slightly and Riley smile in return. And it really is a good thing that Owen is nowhere in sight. There's a bit of a pause as the conversation quietly dies, and then Fitz is smacking the DVD case against Riley's shoulder in farewell before shuffling off to the cash register to pay. As Riley watches him go, he's almost regretful that they don't hang out much anymore.
Almost.
4. Owen makes a fine stalker (how could you possibly say no?).
Even after the shaving cream thing, and the punching thing, and the dumpster thing, Riley realizes that Owen still hangs around him a lot. Like, not invite-him-to-scope-out-the-chicks type of "hanging", because that would be pointless. And not even having meaningful conversation (that doesn't include reference to his "princess", "Rockette", or "Tinkerbell"), because they never really did that in the first place. Rather, it's more of a feeling really—the kind of chill found in the horror movies where the protagonist foolishly wanders through the house alone, walking into rooms and calling out to her friends. Like something's about to happen and it's just a matter of time—that's how Riley feels about Owen. Because Owen always seems to be watching.
Riley first catches him staring after the Bachelor Auction, when Zane takes his hand and he squeezes back in promise. Owen is at his locker, true, but he never takes his eyes off them, looking (shockingly!) aghast as Riley grins and Zane walks happily and obliviously to his next class. So a one-time case of gawking Riley can put up with, maybe even shrug off as nothing at all. But it keeps happening. At the lunch table with Anya, at the picnic benches with Zane, at The Dot with Peter—Owen is there, albeit in the background, but still there. Looking. Frowning. Sulking.
It's to the point that when Zane pulls him into a dark corner, kissing his neck lightly in a way that makes his eyes flutter shut, Riley knows who'll be there when he opens them. And sure enough, Owen's eyes are as cold and blue as ever, but there's something else there too, something Riley's been too on-edge to see before. A kind of…loneliness…and something more. A look of greedy hunger.
Well, shit.
He doesn't tell Zane about it, because he and Owen still hash it out regularly as it is, and Riley doesn't want his boyfriend to grow as paranoid as he is. So Anya makes the better confidante.
"So you've noticed it too?" Anya confirms during school, reminding Riley that hardly anything gets past his best friend undetected. "Well, what do you think?"
Riley searches for an answer, a right answer that puts a label on such behavior. "It's..."
"Weird? Creepy? Pathetic?" she supplies, chewing on the inside of her cheek. It's a nervous tendency she sometimes falls back on.
"Sad, because he doesn't really have anyone," Riley decides, which earns him a light slap.
"That doesn't give him a free pass to stare at you and Zane, like, all the time," Anya protests, her voice rising slightly in pitch and brows furrowing. "And me too, I guess."
Riley smiles wryly at her, picking his next words very carefully. "I think he stares at you the most, so...super bummer."
That earns him a shove, this time a little less light.
"Oh, shut up. So do you think he's bi or what?"
Riley shakes his head. "Don't ask me. Dr. Chris proved my gaydar's broken. Besides, who knows. This is Owen we're talking about."
Anya sighs in agreement, tucking a stray hair behind her ear and scanning the busy hallway, as if expecting Owen to pop out in semi-dramatic fashion and confront them both for their casual speculations.
"He's not here," Riley whispers in mock-secrecy, watching Anya pout. "But the real question is whether you'd consider going out with him—on a strictly trial-basis, I mean. Because I'm not going to, and while I can't speak for Zane, they'd really be the oddest thing ever, you know?"
"Oh, we'd be perfect together," Anya deadpans, clapping her hands together. "Maybe we could even do a double-date with you and Zane. Wouldn't that be a total blast."
Riley grins, putting a hand on her shoulder warmly. "Hey, you never know…weirder things have happened at this school."
5. Wesley is hopeless.
At the time, Riley doesn't appreciate it, but the A Night in Vegas dance is the last bit of freedom Degrassi sees for a long while. And really, who could blame him? He's too wired with electric excitement—taking Zane to the dance, not hiding who he is anymore, the possibility of being crowned King and King—to really process the evening as anything more than a cluster of moments, one following another. But before Alli and Drew take the Homecoming titles, before he catches Anya's eye roll as Sav horribly serenades Holly J, before Owen reaches for a fifty and Fitz jams a knife into a wall, he and Zane bump into Wesley.
Politely, Riley apologizes, but Wesley doesn't seem to notice, and Riley follows his eyes until they settle on his best friend. Anya looks really pretty tonight with her green dress and softly curled hair. Earlier in the night, Riley had told her as much, and gotten a lingering kiss on the cheek in return.
So Riley watches as she dances with Leia and tries to coax Chantay out there too, and then realizes that Wesley only has eyes for Anya. But not in a creepy stalker way like Owen, but more like he's in some sort of trance. And while Zane looks rightfully puzzled by Wesley's behavior, it reminds Riley of when he'd sometimes imagine (okay, fine, fantasize) taking a break from his summer training to tug Zane down onto the grass, running one hand up his shirt while the other reached for his—oh. Ahem. Daydreaming. Clearly.
Riley doesn't know how to snap him out of it (or if he really should), but Dave and Connor take care of that for him when they saunter up and heartily slap Wesley on the back, brandishing their casino chips. Immediately, Wesley is brought back to coherency, and Dave sort of recoils a bit when he realizes that Riley is right there.
"Oh hey. You," Dave begins, tugging frantically on Wesley's tuxedo to leave, and it isn't often that Riley feels like such an ass. Zane clears his throat apologetically, and Connor seems oblivious to everything.
"Wait," Riley says, extending a hand but stopping just short of touching anyone. "Look, I'm sorry…for scaring you last week. And shoving you. I uh, overreacted."
"That's okay," Wesley answers for Dave, who seems to be rendered momentarily speechless. "Just the standard anger issues. Nothing to be ashamed of. Oh, and Dave's sorry too. Aren't you, Dave? For using a word inappropriately, I mean."
Dave still says nothing, with some kind of deer-in-the-headlights look going on, but Wesley actually smiles. Genuinely, toothily smiles. Riley is confused by his newfound confidence (surely Drew's pointers aren't that great) until he remembers that Wesley sees him as Anya's friend. And thus someone to get on the good side of.
And the way to do that is to shower him with empty compliments, apparently, because the next words out of Wesley's mouth are "Why, I really like your suit, Riley! It's very unique".
But Wesley's bravado visibly deflates when he notices that Riley and Zane unapologetically match, and it doesn't take long before Dave and Connor realize it too, chuckling softly.
"Nice hair clip," Connor tells Zane, trying to be helpful by pointing out the one accessory that does distinguish their identical choice of dress.
"So Wesley," Zane laughs, trying to cut down the level of awkward. "When's your big date with Anya?"
Dave shakes his head like he still can't believe it, Connor grins widely, and Wesley blushes, adjusting his glasses more out of habit than necessity. "Well, I guess sometime next semester. I—I didn't know she'd be here tonight, so I didn't think to...I mean, technically she bought me so it's really her decision and all."
"It's too bad," Riley muses, his brain not keeping up with his mouth, a common occurrence with him. "This dance would've been less pressure than going out to dinner or something. More alone time means more chances to screw things up, you know?"
Swiftly, Riley feels a sharp heel to his foot, and he doesn't have to look down to know it's from Zane.
"I'm certain whatever you two plan will be lovely," Zane soothes, smiling warmly and pointedly ignoring Riley's glare.
"I guess so," Wesley says, a little shaky. Riley hasn't bothered to ask Anya her opinion (and he really should, preferably soon), but he's kind of rooting for the guy. They'd be cute. Not Zane-in-a-jersey cute, but still.
"Well," says Dave, finally regaining his voice but still avoiding Riley's eye. "It's been nice chatting with you guys, but we've really got to go. There's this thing...we...have to see. Yeah. So we'll be seeing you."
Dave successfully gets Connor and Wesley to flee, and Wesley casts a final, wistful look at Anya before being dragged off towards the punch bowl. But not before Riley discretely pats Wesley on the back and whispers "Try not to drool" with a wink.
6. Madame Degrassi (still) has a neck biting fetish.
When everyone comes back from break, things get a little insane. Fitz savagely attacks a wall, and it's not Rick shooting up the school, but apparently it warrants tacky color-coded polos, a ban on cell phones, ID cards around the neck, and a variety of other stipulations. Truthfully, the letter the Principal Simpson sends home over the break puts the blame on "bullying", "hazing", and "sexual acts at school", among other things. Just about everyone knows about the Fitz thing, and the Bianca/Drew/Alli/Owen thing. A quick word with Chantay would inform you of the Sav/Holly J thing. And the name Elijah Goldsworthy becomes well-spoken across the (now security-enforced) hallways of Degrassi.
Riley supposes he has his own share of blame for Saran wrapping Drew, but no one ever comes out and tells him to his face. With Fitz unable to get an earful from his peers, people are content with blaming the girls, namely Bianca and Alli. And while it's certainly unfair, he's not complaining about being omitted from a round of self-esteem seminars. A big no thanks to that brilliant idea.
So it's a little after the winter break ends that Riley finds himself at The Dot on a Saturday, blessedly uniform-free, eating dinner with Zane. Peter has some hot-shot band playing upstairs, and the music seeps through the walls like a crafty, muffled melody. Most people are upstairs, so the dining crowd tonight is intimate and quiet, with conversations carrying swiftly from table to table. When the door opens suddenly, bringing in a slight draft, Riley sees Eli enter with Clare, his hand resting softly at her back as they move to the two open stools at the bar. And Riley doesn't mean to stare, but he's kind of curious about the kid—Eli of the ipecac—who made Fitz retch mere feet away from his own shoes, who picked a hearse of all things to drive in, who could be found on any given school day sitting with Adam, reading comics that Riley had never even heard of.
Peter comes over to the couple—and couple they are, if hallway canoodling is any indication—and takes their order. But it's just at that moment that Eli extends a hand to scratch at his neck, oh-so-absently shifting the soft fabric of his button-down just enough to reveal a bite there. A human bite.
Not a hickey. A clean, precise, intentional, accepted-without-struggle bite.
Okay then.
Riley looks to Clare, cheeks rosy and eyes soft as she runs a hand through her hair, and well...he supposes...Chantay was right about the girl and her vampire fantasies. When Chantay had casually told him during history, he'd still been thinking of Sam and wishing for friends, so he'd tuned out the finer details. But supposedly Chantay had heard it from Holly J, who'd heard it from Declan, who'd been sworn to secrecy about certain...things. Things like neck biting and story writing and jacket stealing.
And Riley doesn't mind, doesn't care—not really—it's just more of a confirmation of Chantay shamelessly getting her facts straight than anything. Though apparently he's been studying the pair long enough for Zane to take notice, because as Eli leans over and takes Clare's hand, showing more of that damn bite, Riley feels Zane's fingers circle around his own, and it makes him jolt in surprise.
"You've been ignoring me," Zane says, clearly amused, and his voice has a husky lilt to it that makes Riley shudder.
"No, I was just looking at—"
"—Eli's neck? That bite of his...it's curious, isn't it?"
Riley doesn't know how to appropriately answer that, but then Zane is tugging on his hand, drawing him nearer and making his chair groan as it's carelessly dragged across the tile. Zane flashes him the megawatt smile that always makes something inside of his belly flutter relentlessly, but there's also a mischievous glint to his eyes that Riley rarely sees outside of the bedroom. And suddenly, it feels like all of the air's been sucked out of the room.
"Do you want one too?" Zane murmurs, breath hot against the shell of his ear, but Riley can barely process the question before Zane is moving a few inches lower and biting neatly into delicate flesh.
Stop it stop it stop it stop it, Riley whispers, without actually trying to move away as The Dot's patrons glance briefly at them before finding reasons to decidedly look elsewhere. Riley feels a sharp pain as his skin breaks, but Zane continues to keep his teeth there, fingers lightly framing his neck and jawline with quiet insistency. From the corner of his eye, Riley catches Clare watching them, mouth agape either because they're being really fucking inappropriate at The Dot or because, gay or straight, this is her kind of thing. Possibly both.
And okay, Riley does hate himself a little for actually gasping when it starts to feel good.
Eventually, Zane pulls away, a drop of blood clinging precariously to his bottom lip. Eventually, Clare averts her eyes, suddenly finding her chicken salad to be absolutely fascinating. And eventually, Riley asks for the check, too mortified to look up as Peter offers to get him "like, ice or something for that". As they stand up to leave, Zane removes his grey scarf, the one that'd been a present from Anya, and gingerly wraps it around Riley's neck. In turn, Riley stares at his shoes, indolently noting the frayed laces. Stalling.
"I wasn't jealous of it," Riley says, not really sure how to verbalize not even imagining something and then totally enjoying getting it.
"I know," Zane says, nudging their noses together. "You were just so...engrossed. But you're not complaining about it, right?"
"No," Riley manages, leaning forward to kiss him. Zane tastes like copper, and combined with the ballad playing upstairs it makes Riley feel a little giddy on his feet. They stay like that for a while, pressed together and completely comfortable.
"I'm gonna get you back though," Riley finally warns against his mouth. Promising.
Zane pulls away then, walking towards the door with the knowledge that Riley will follow. "I hope you do."
They pass the people on their way out who are still looking away away away, and Zane is smiling and Eli is smirking and Clare...Clare laughs. Gently, sweetly, like a morning birdsong.
She and Riley regard each other for the briefest of moments, blue locked on blue, and it's long enough for Clare to cock an eyebrow and Riley to stick out his tongue in return. So Clare yanks up Eli's collar and Riley pulls Zane's scarf around him tighter, and it's just enough of an understanding, just enough for them to get each other, without having said anything at all.
.
.