I'm (Not) Giving Up On You

Say Something

"Is that Deputy Parrish?" Danny asked, pointing over Stiles' shoulder. Stiles turned as well and squinted at the blonde on the other end of the bar.

"Yeah, I think it is," Stiles mused, "Damn, I barely recognized him out of his uniform."

Danny nudged Stiles slightly with his elbow, "He's pretty handsome right? Just your type too."

"Doesn't that make him your type?" Stiles frowned, "Aren't you still with Ethan?"

"Well," Danny pursed his lips and rolled his eyes, "We're taking a break right now."

Stiles' eyes widened slightly, "Shit man. Why?"

Taking a sip from his drink to stall for a moment, Danny shrugged, "He's being all moody. The full moon is close and he says he's been having issues with it. Something about how shifting to a new pack and the different dynamic messes with his wolfy senses or some bullshit like that. Keeps saying how it's dangerous for me to be around—too tempting."

"Huh, Derek never mentioned something like that. Maybe it's because he always had a pack even when he wasn't an alpha?"

"Maybe," Danny shrugged, "Anyway, it's a little annoying. I know I'm new to the whole supernatural scene, but I don't know how you handle it Stiles."

"I guess it's because I really helped Scott figure out all the werewolf stuff that now none of it bothers or surprises me."

"Share some of your secrets with me?" Danny pleaded, his eyes wide and mouth pouty, "I know it was hard for Ethan to tell me everything and honestly I still have trouble imagining all of it is real. But he still keeps a lot of it to himself and I just don't know how to support him like he needs."

Stiles nodded, taking a swig of his rum and coke, "Sure. But how about in a less public setting? I don't know how much of this people will attribute to the alcohol if they overhear. I mean, I don't really know much but I guess I can share what I do know."

"Deal," Danny flashed one of his brilliant white smiles at Stiles, his teeth glowing slightly from the blacklights. But then he frowned and his gaze drifted over Stiles' shoulder once again.

"Hey," he whispered, moving closer towards Stiles as if sharing a secret, "Isn't that Derek?"

Stiles turned once more and looked in the direction Danny was gesturing. His eyes narrowed as he looked in to the flashing lights of the nightclub. But Danny was right—Stiles would be able to identify that figure in any crowd. Derek came up behind Parrish and tapped him on the shoulder. Parrish looked away from the person he had been chatting with to look at Derek. Immediately the man's face lit up and he stood. The two males embraced in a one-armed half-hug before Derek took the seat next to Parrish. Derek flagged the bartender down and ordered a drink—probably his usual port whiskey. Stiles frowned as he watched the two converse.

"That's weird," Danny mumbled, causing Stiles to look back at him, "I didn't think those two knew each other."

"They're only a few years apart," Stiles mused, "They could have been in high school together."

"Derek went to Beacon High?"

"Yeah, before the fire."

"Oh," Danny sipped awkwardly and emptied his glass. He motioned for another and the bartender gave him a nod, "Has Derek ever mentioned Deputy Parrish?"

Stiles shook his head, "Never. He doesn't really like to talk about the time around the fire."

"That would make sense. You know, I've seen Deputy Parrish here a few times," Danny shrugged, "I wasn't sure it was him. But now that I do, I can for sure say that he's frequented this bar for a few weeks now."