Author's Note: Hello, Hello. This is my first Degrassi: TNG fic, I've just recently stumbled upon the show. I was watching 'Beat It' and listening to "The Dance" by Charlotte Martin and this popped into my head and wanted to have fun with Riley. And Since I'm new in this fandom, I feel compelled to warn that I'm a mostly a slash writer, I also like mpreg…which will be in this story. I tend to not explain how mpreg is possible, it takes away from the point of the story, this is fiction we can suspend reality enough to allow it for a fanfic. I enjoy reviews, and comments…I'm willing to consider any suggestions, and love getting them. I do ask that we not go to 'Flame' status on review…anger doesn't get anywhere especially if its over the slash, or mpreg. Thank you, in advance.

Summary: Riley finds that his secret maybe forced out when he finds himself in an unique condition. Brief Piley, eventual Decley.

Notes: The only notes I can think of is that Riley and Declan (and Fiona) are in Grade 11 in this story. Story starts post-Mia, so no Fiona/Riley. I think it should explain itself for the most part, let me know if there are any questions!

And before I forget: I do not own Degrassi...fanfiction is like babysitting...you take the characters and you get to play with them for a little bit and at the end of the day you have to give them back....

To touch, to interact, to connect is the most basic of human needs. Above food, water, or shelter, because it reassures us that we are not alone.

Riley's eyes were stationed on the clasped hands between the men walking down the street ahead of him. He tried to push the thoughts out of his mind, the little voice in his head that told him how much he wanted that. How much he just wanted to stop fighting it...fighting all thses thoughts. No, no, no he argued back, he was staight...he had to be. But the voice taunted back, if that's the case then what exactly do you call what you and Peter have secretly been doing for the past six weeks? If you're so determined to be straight why don't you stop what you're about to do again tonight? Frustrated at himself, the athlete pushed passed the couple that sparked his internal argument and quickened his pace, forcing himself to think about recent sports stats until he turned into the familiar building and heard the music blaring so loud it was nearly impossible to think at all. He kept to the wall on his way to their usual meeting spot. When he saw that Peter had't arrived yet, Riley allowed himself to look at the activity around him. His mind began to wander, to fantasize, as he watched a couple grind to the beat not far from where he was waiting. As one of the men looked up Riley quickly averted his eyes to his phone only to see Peter was nearing a half a hour late. He made several more searches around the the club before sulking out the door, knocking the guy coming in the door. He didn't bother to apologize, he was angry at Peter for not showing up, angry at himself for showing up. He stormed the rest of the long way home nearly the slamming the door before remembering his parents were most likely already asleep. He quietly made his way up the stairs, and his eyes caught the picture hanging at the top of the stair, in a place of almost worship.

"Oh, shut up." He whispered to the photographic stare. As he entered the room he grabbed a bag of chips he had stashed on the shelf. The bag opened releasing the processed cheese and jalapeño smell into Riley's nostrils causing him to empty the contents of his stomach straight back into the bag. Disgusted, he tossed the bag into the trash can as the little voice in his head returned, maybe it's a good thing nothing happened tonight.

He had to admit he hadn't been feeling well the last couple of days, which was probably due to how much he had been throwing himself into working out. It's what he did to make life make sense. He didn't know how to fix these thoughts. He didn't know how he could ask for help. He wasn't good at expressing himself, the self-hatred for internal failure always seemed to take over. But he was good at sports. He knew how to work out, how to make sure the football got into the end zone, and how to cross the finish line faster than anyone else. That's what he could do. And until everything else got figured out it's what he knew he had to do to stay sane.

The light streamed into his room the next morning not waking him as it usually did, a combination of him being extremely tired and not in the path of the light as he had wound up falling asleep in his desk chair. The door to his room swinging open didn't wake him until the culprit spoke, "Riley? Riley! What are you still doing here?"

He opened his eyes to see his mother standing there with a basket of laundry. She was usually asleep when he left for school, something he did on purpose to avoid morning inquisitions into his health, happiness, and the status of his homework. His eyes silently scanned for the clock only to find it on the floor, blinking the fact that school had started two hours ago.

"I'm sorry…I guess I didn't wake up. I was just tired…" He trailed off as she wrinkled her nose before spotting the bag in the trash can.

"Riley Miles Stavros, how many times do I have to tell you about having food in your room…and it doesn't even…" She began to set the basket down, and he intercepted her,

"I'm sorry, I was hungry last night, grabbed the bag, but I got sick... in it...before I could eat anything. I'll throw it out…now, I swear."

And there it was the reaction he had been hoping to avoid. The basket was nearly thrown on the floor, one hand went to his forehead, the other to check his pulse.

"Mom!" He pushed her hands aside. "I'm fine."

But despite his continued persistence that he was fine, he still arrived at school at eleven with a note and an already made phone call from his mother informing the school he would be leaving an hour early for a doctor's appointment. He ignored the secretary's remark questioning the point in even showing up at all as the bell rang for classes to switch the next period. He had the books he need with him after last night's homework, so he made for another hallway. As he approached Peter's locker he watched as Trish, the airhead, skipped away looking all too perky for Riley's liking.

"Hey, Pete. So, where were you last night?" He cut to the chase.

The blonde just smiled casually, "I could ask the same thing about where you've been this morning."

Riley's eyes just narrowed. Peter face fell solemn, "Look I'm with Trish now…as of last night…Riley, you know when we started…that, it didn't mean anything other than me just needing to…"

"Yeah, yeah, I know…I get it…It's cool." Riley shrugged, putting up the best front that he was blowing it off, as if he expected it.

"Still friends?" Peter asked holding out a hand.

Riley assessed the hand wearily, he didn't really have a choice, without Peter he had no one. "Yeah, man, of course."

But saying that didn't stop Riley from avoiding Peter the rest of the day. He was grateful as the bell finally allowing him to leave before everyone else. As he passed Chantay, and a group from the Power Squad his stomach rolled, and he detoured himself in time to make it to the men's room. He grabbed a paper towel from the dispenser above the trash can that now hosted his lunch as he heard a criticizing chuckle from behind him,

"You know bulimia is not the answer."

In an instant, even though his stomach hadn't quite settled back down, Riley had Declan against the wall.

"Shut the hell up, man."

Declan ignored the pain in his back, and laughed it off know it would only irritate the other boy further, "Stavros, it could just be me, but I think that reaction was a bit excessive…has any one…"

"I said 'Shut up.'" And with that Riley let go and fled the bathroom, embarrassed. He hadn't fully intended to react that way, but with the way his day had been going, he thought at least it couldn't get any worse.

Later he would curse him self for speaking to soon. The doctor had gone through a routine work up of question, the usual: weight, temp, blood pressure. Then after a few cryptic mumblings had asked for a blood test. Riley was grateful he had come alone, soon as the words 'blood test' came out of the doc's mouth she would have passed out. He knew why she was prone to worry, but he was sure what ever was making him through up was nothing to worry about. He was sure until the doctor came back through the door.

"Mr. Stavros, I have question for you and I need you to be completely honest with me. The form the receptionist handed you when you came: Did you answer all them honestly? Specifically the questions regarding your sexual activity?"

Riley avoided the doctor's gaze and began to stare at his hands in his lap. The doctor tried again,

"Mr. Stavros, have you had intercourse with another man? It's important."

Riley nodded enough for the doctor to see, and the football player looked up in time to see that the doctor seemed to relax, which only made Riley more tense.

"We ask that you be completely honest with those forms because, as in this situation it helps with a diagnosis…If you weren't gay…"

"I'm not gay!" Riley nearly yelled at the older man who seemed to simply shrug it off.

"Well then, if hadn't you hadn't told me you have had sex with another man," He corrected, "I would be slightly confused by the results of your blood work."

Wow, that's a lot…more so than I normally put in a first chapter but I hope you enjoy it. Let me know what you think!