A/N: Just an idea that had hit me over the head hard. Combining two of my favourite things, tennis and Sterek. You don't really need to know much about tennis to read this. Rated M for some sexy times towards the end. Not beta read so all mistake are my own.

Australian Open:

So this was he! Stiles let his eyes rest on the impressive figure walking down the corridor in front of him as they headed towards the Rod Laver arena. Derek Hale. At 25 years of age World number 1 four years running. Living Legend. Holder of numerous records, considered the greatest tennis player of all times by critics and public alike. Who hasn't lost a single match in over a year and only lost one of his 11 Grand Slam Finals in the last three years.

Stiles of course knew that this day, this match would be coming one day. His own magical rise into the top five in just under two years, at the tender age of 17, had left no doubt about that. It actually surprised him that in all his two years as a professional player he hadn't encountered him sooner.

The crowd erupted as they made their way onto the court. Hale was a legend and just being on the same court as him had Stiles almost frozen to the spot. He was in complete awe of this person, his idol for the last 5 years, on the opposite side of the net. Not that he had ever met him in person before now. Glanced at him from a distance, plenty of times but never actually spoken to him. Hale tended to keep himself to himself outside of the tennis court. But now this was finally happening and Stiles was star struck and counted it an honour to even be breathing the same air as Derek Hale.

Realistically he knew he didn't stand a chance in hell against the Iron Man from the US but his juvenile exuberance combined with an almost unhealthy amount of self confidence in his own abilities had seen him through almost impossible odds and situations before. Plus the crowd had come to see a proper match, someone who would try and challenge Hale and having worked his way up to the quarter finals he knew he could give them that much.

Still, he found it hard to take his eyes off of Hale, who just radiated confidence and, dared Stiles say, arrogance as the pranced up and down the other side of the court like a caged animal waiting to be set free. And it was one thing glancing at him from across the locker rooms or seeing him on his TV screen. But in real life and close proximity Derek Hale was a force of nature to be reckoned with. As well as being probably the most stunning human being to have ever walked the face of the earth. Some people really had it all.

Stiles was trying to calm his nerves. Normally going through his routine helped but today his heart felt like it wanted to jump out of his chest. He could hear the crowd mutter all around him as he was stretching out his long limbed body, swaying his hips from side to side and doing some jumping jacks to loosen up his body. Hale mirrored the movements on his own side and Stiles felt the man's cold piercing gaze resting upon him. There was a reason they called him the Iron Man. A stare made of steel, no emotions visible on his expressionless face, a serve and forehand that has broken numerous speed records combined with an almost computer processor like ability to plan and execute tactics with just enough intuition not to be predictable.

In a way Derek Hale was the total polar opposite of Stiles, who tended to wear his emotions on his sleeve and whose game pretty much was run by intuition resulting in some spectacular and highly entertaining match play which had soon made him a firm favourite of the crowds all over the world. The gangly kid from Germany who couldn't hide his feelings if he tried, well at least when it came to playing tennis, had been adopted as the tennis world's new sweetheart the second he had hit the scene and in an excruciating effort beaten the then world number 2 in his first round match at the Australian Open two year ago.

Everyone thought that he would be the one to topple the 'king' off his spot sooner or later. On top of that he was a new fresh face for the new tennis, as they liked to call him and apparently the sponsors liked that very much.

The umpire called them to the net for the toss of the coin and Stiles jogged forward rolling his shoulders and jumping up and down on the spot. He needed to get rid of his excess nervous energy. And then he was face to face, just a net separating them, with Derek Hale. Hale bared his teeth at Stiles in what no doubt was supposed to be a smile in acknowledgement of his existence, accompanied by a nod of the head before his face fell back into the trademark frown. Stiles couldn't help but stare as he smiled back captivated by the man across from him.

Heads - which meant that Stiles could choose and he chose to serve. He needed all the advantages he could get and being up in serve at least meant Derek would have to chase the score, well as long as Stiles could hold his serve.

X

And then it was all over. Stiles really couldn't tell where the last two hours had gone. He was sure one minute he was saying 'head' and the next minute he found himself at the net shaking hands, a firm big warm hand, with Derek Hale, who leaned in and whispered something that sounded vaguely like 'well played' and 'your time to win a grand slam will come soon' or something along those lines, into his ear and then he sat himself down on the bench towel over his head as he let the last two hours slowly come back to him.

For all intent and purposes he had just been given a master class by Derek Hale. There was no other way of saying it, or trying to put a positive spin on it. Three straight sets in just under two hours. The usurper safely put in his place. Stiles could already see the headlines in the papers the next day. But no time to worry about that too much. First he needed to get through the gruelling routine of interview after interview, press conference and stupid questions as to what he thought he could have done better and where he thought he had gone wrong. This was the part of his career Stiles hated. As much as he loved tennis, and everything about it, this whole dance with the media left him more exhausted every time than a 5 set match ever could.

And as sure as the sun rose in the east this match would only feed the latest media frenzy on their 'rivalry', some even going as far as to claim that he and Hale hated each other, bla, bla, bla. If Stiles ever hated anyone or anything it would be the media not someone like Derek Hale. Be in total awe of him and his talent yes, but hate him? No! On top of that he didn't even know the guy. But he knew he needed the press on his side and that he needed to play the game according to their rules.

Like clockwork, a microphone was shoved in Stiles' face the minute he stepped off the court. If at least they would allow him the courtesy of having a shower first he bemoaned silently. Australia at this time of year was hot as hell and he was reeking and longed for nothing more than a nice cold shower.

Stiles went through the motions, smiling and answering and even joking with the various reporters, after all he had his 'boy next door' image to uphold. Something for which he had had numerous hours of coaching with a drama teacher about how just to present this image flawlessly to the public. He passed Derek Hale twice in the corridors on their ways to and from the various make shift studios. If anything Stiles couldn't help but feel that Derek Hale had somewhat warmed up to him, actually acknowledging him as he walked past. Maybe despite his under par performance he had managed to earn the other man's respect. Both times Hale (Derek? were they on first name terms yet?) smiled at him and nodded his head. A warm and open smile, the likes of which Stiles had never seen on the other man, in all his hours he had watched his performances and interviews on TV. It was almost like Derek Hale, world tennis no 1 and this person walking past him, relaxed and chatty were two different people, and a part that Derek Hale managed to keep well hidden in his day to day dealings.

And Stiles couldn't help it but that smile went straight to his belly and warmed and cheered him up in a way that should not happen after he had just lost in the quarter finals in straight sets but suddenly it didn't seem that important anymore. And wouldn't coach give him a monumental scolding for that if he knew, not that Stiles would ever tell him. No, there were things and thoughts and feelings that were best kept to oneself, Stiles had learned that a long time ago.

Interviews over with he could finally hit the showers before his coach and parents would grab hold of him and give him the after match pep talk. He sighed as he let the cold water hit his shoulders and despite feeling physically exhausted, his mind had very much other ideas, possibly brought on by his incessant obsessing over Derek Hale. But to think about that too much would open a whole new Pandora's box which Stiles' wasn't prepared to deal with, so he just didn't. Instead he let his hand slowly wander down his upper torso to come and rest on his cock and slowly teasing himself to hardness. As far as he was aware he was alone in the locker rooms and those times were far and few between. He was not normally allowed to be an out of control unruly teenager giving in to his hormonal urges should the need arise. God knows, even his jerk off schedule was usually on a strict schedule. So he knew not to miss spontaneous opportunities like this. Without much delay he stroked himself to a quick but rather unsatisfying release as he rested his head against the cold tile of the shower room and tried to catch his breath. Despite being surrounded by a myriad of people virtually 24/7 his life was in fact a lonely one. There was no one he could share some of these rather intimate and private needs with and he had only himself to fall back on.

Sometimes he wished they would at least give him a day off after some of these events, let him be a 17 year old kid just for a day, playing games and eating pizza and maybe find someone to flirt with, but he knew realistically that this was not going to happen. The show must go on and he had to get ready, physically and emotionally for the next tournament, the next challenge for his bid to the top and there was just no time for distractions.

The tennis world was a cruel one with an excruciating schedule, and no time for a social life. And lonely, especially for someone like Stiles, who would never have the opportunity of having the kind of relationship he was longing for so badly, at least not while he was playing tennis professionally. He had been told as much not only by his parents but also by his coach and PR Company. But god, should someone like Derek Hale ever even show the slightest interest in someone like him, he would be prepared to take the risk, PR Company and consequences be damned.

French Open:

And then they met again. Paris, French Open, Semi Finals.

Despite two wins in quite prestigious and high ranking tournaments Stiles' ranking had slipped to Number 3 after enjoying a very shot stunt at being number 2 and hence set up a meeting against Derek in the semi finals. The media, fickle as always, was already deliberating whether he was in real danger of burning out and had been but a shooting star that, as so often had happened in the past, burst onto the scene full of promise only to then not live up to it.

Stiles could really do with winning this match to silence the nay-sayers and to boost his slightly bruised ego after a particularly bad loss in the semi finals at his last tournament. A point which his coach and his parents have tried to continuously ram down his throat over the last two days and which he could have very much done without. All this psychology crap and putting on the thumb screws had never worked on him in the past. The basic fact was that there just wasn't much he could have done about the current Number 2 having had an unrivalled run of good fortune and easy draws that propelled him up the world ranking straight past Stiles.

It should feel ironic that the only one who said as much in as many words had been Derek Hale of all people but it just didn't. It felt nice and comforting when Derek approached him before the match in the waiting area, resting a hand on his shoulder and telling him not to pay too much attention to what people say, and that he only needed to believe in himself because he had everything he needed to become one of the greats soon. The thing was Derek sounded so sincere that Stiles was lost for words, all his usual bravado seemed to have got stuck in his throat. Stiles ended up mouth gaping and staring into Derek's green eyes as some kind of unspoken understanding passed between them. Of course, Derek must know what it was like to being put through the grinder by the media. The 'I've been there' written all over his face.

Derek Hale was an enigma to Stiles. Stiles would have thought if anything he would be pleased about the young and feisty kid being put in its place but this simple gesture of support, from the actual person who would at the moment have the least reason to do so, made him go all gooey and happy inside, just for a moment forgetting where they actually were.

Stiles smiled and managed to mouth a quiet 'thank you' while absentmindedly bringing his hand up to rest on top of Derek's, that was still placed on his shoulder, and giving it a small squeeze before recoiling it as realisation set in and Stiles quickly stumbled across the room to pick up his two bags, trying desperately to hide the hot flush that spread across his face as one of the officials came in and informed them that it was time to go on court.

He chanced a glance at Derek as they started walking, and there it was, his trademark frown, and cool and collected demeanour void of any visible emotion. A million miles away from the man who had spoken to him mere minutes ago. And Stiles couldn't help but admire him even more for this ability to apparently turn his emotions off at will. Stiles on the other hand was still flushed and heart beating hard against his chest, and realistically he knew that the fact that he was about to head out on court to play a semi final match was only partly to blame for that.

X

He lost, but he had given Derek a run for his money. Four sets, three tie-breaks and 4 hours on court. All in all he was very pleased with his performance. Derek had shaken his hand and pulled him in for a friendly hug across the net, complementing him on the improvement he had made since they last met. It was the match everyone was talking about, as he had been the first player this year to even get a set off Derek. He was the media's darling again and sailed through the usual routine of interviews and conferences.

The second semi final was well on its way by the time he finally made it to the locker rooms and headed for the long awaited shower. He knew he would be in need of a good kneading from his physiotherapist later but for now a nice long shower was all he wanted. An hour of solitude before continuing the circus of interviews and post match analysis with his coach.

When he re-emerged from the showers about twenty minutes later Derek was there, just getting ready to take his shower, as well as two other players, who Stiles knew as one of the pairs that made it through to the doubles final. They were jostling and joking and when they noticed Stiles they congratulated him on his outstanding performance on court earlier, pulling Derek's leg about having to keep an eye on that one as he clearly had it in him to cause Derek some trouble. Derek just rolled his eyes but smiled disarmingly at Stiles and Stiles had to sit down to try and hide an unfortunate and untimely stirring under his towel. As Derek was smiling at him he had dropped his shorts and then gingerly removed his boxers as well, leaving him in just his birthing suit, before flinging a towel around his waist and heading for the showers, but not before giving Stiles another pat on his very much naked back, and if Stiles would have had any trust in his ability to make sense of anything at the moment, he would have sworn that Derek actually more caressed his back there for a second than pat it but Stiles was in no position currently to trust his senses so he chose to ignore them as best as he could.

The only thing he was sure of was that he apparently had lost the ability to breathe and on top of that probably had gone some interesting shade of purple. He suddenly found his bag rather interesting as he rummaged through it concentrating hard on retrieving his clean set of boxers, waiting for his blush to subside and hopefully for the other two players to disappear soon so he could collapse in style. What the hell had gone into him? He had been in locker rooms sharing showers, getting dressed and undressed, seeing the guys run around au natural since he was 4 years old, for goodness sake! And apart from a few almost embarrassing incidents in his pre-teen years, when he was still not quite sure about his sexuality and his hormones were running rampage, he never really had had this kind of reaction to anyone in the locker rooms. Maybe the question should more be 'who' had gotten into him but no, Stiles was not willing to go there for all kind of reasons.

He put his head in his hands and allowed himself a deep sigh. Life on the circuit was hard enough without the added complication of developing a crush on his main rival, who, as far as Stiles knew, was in fact very straight, having had a long term girlfriend for the last three years or so. Most likely Stiles was just misreading brotherly/fatherly affection (Derek was a good few years older than him after all) for something more. He wished for it to be something more. Because honestly, deep down he was starved for attention. Not the kind that was lavished on him daily by the press and fans and the world at large but the kind of attention that came with a personal intimate relationship with someone. It was a plain basic need after all, and something no one in his ever increasing team was able to provide for him. And as much as he was ok with being single, the plain fact the he was not allowed to have anything remotely like a proper honest relationship for at least the next 10 to 15 years, depending on how long his career would last, made him crave it in the here and now even more.

Stiles had been fully prepared to burst onto the tennis scene out and proud and let the world deal with it, after all this was the 21st century but everyone even vaguely involved in performance sport had strongly advised against it. Stiles had thought (and still thought) it extremely unfair that even in this day and age one would have to suffer consequences just for being attracted to people of the same gender. Loss of earnings, lack of sponsors and a lot of negative and speculative media attention, as well as players possibly being uncomfortable with someone like him, had all been outlined to him in great detail. In the end Stiles had agreed to keep stumm for the sake of keeping the peace, especially when his parents had jumped onto the band wagon under the pretence 'that they just want the best for him' and having the media focus on his sexuality instead of his tennis would be detrimental to his career, they had argued. And if anything Stiles listened to his parents, knew them not to be acting out of spite or disgust but really just because they didn't want him to have to go through all that.

Still it sucked, and just because he had agreed to it didn't to mean he was ok with it. Any of it! He was a good, possibly great tennis player and that should be all that mattered, not who he wanted to share his bed and his life with. One day he would find a way to bend the rules, he promised himself that but until then all he could do was sit still and play the game.