Wimbledon:

The third time they met, Wimbledon final.

After the French Open, Stiles went on to win the pre Wimbledon tournament at Queens, which also meant he regained his position as world number 2. Derek had been absent due to a recurring shoulder injury and had decided to give it a miss so he would be able to play at Wimbledon, where he was the four times and defending champion. The media was playing their usual game of 'whether this is a sign of the changing of the guards' and whether Derek's body was now starting to pay the price for his brutal and unorthodox way of playing tennis. Despite all the speculations Derek managed to silence them with a straight sets run all the way to the final. Stiles had a slightly harder time, almost losing his match in the quarter final, but somehow pulling through and so tomorrow it would be him against Derek yet again. It was becoming something of a theme in Stiles' life to meet Derek either in the semis or the final. There was just no escaping the man.

On top of that Stiles had insisted on playing in the men's double with his British partner, to which his coach and parents had only reluctantly agreed to when Stiles argued that he wanted to get all the extra exposure he could get on grass. Grass was still without a doubt Stiles' weakest surface. And was he glad that he had been stubborn about this and got his way as against the odds they had won in the final against the top seed and Stiles for the first time had held a grand slam trophy in his hand, and had been sure his face was in danger of splitting in half so big was his smile.

But now the singles final was demanding all of his attention. And Stiles was sure he was slowly going insane. Tactical analysis generally proved quite fun, watching the greats, picking their game apart, looking for their strength and weaknesses. But today he was being tortured, slowly and painfully. He had to watch hour after hour of Derek's matches up to the semi final. Looking for any weaknesses he could exploit. His coach and training partners pointing out the best way to attack Derek's second serve, which normally is sliced and served wide. Coach slowing down the video again and again to analyse Derek's every move.

Stiles was in agony, figuratively speaking but more and more in a rather literal sense and thanked god for baggy pants. It had taken him a while to accept the plain fact that he indeed had developed a rather distracting crush on Derek Hale and being subjected to watching him on video, in HD, 55 inch wide screen and in slow motion drove him slowly crazy. He had stopped listening to his coach about half an hour ago, instead being enthralled by Derek. The way his body moved across the court, so beautifully and smoothly, like he was floating on air. His footwork was brilliant and Stiles was taken in by the way his thigh muscles flexed as he slid across the court, the way his biceps flexed and stretched the fabric of his shirt sleeve as Stiles watched him hit his serve in slow motion. He ogled the trail of hair leading into Derek's shorts, visible for brief amounts of time as Derek's shirt moved up as he tossed up the ball, and Stiles was fucked, to put it bluntly. He knew he couldn't let a small complication like this distract him. He had to get his head in the game, there were too many people relying on him, he couldn't disappoint them by not being able to get his emotions under control and spent his time on court drooling over Derek.

But try as he may he could not concentrate on anything the coach was telling him. Not helped by the fact that he by now was painfully aroused from having watched what felt like every inch of Derek's body, having it burned into his memory to recall at will. That combined with the still vivid image of a naked Derek and that fleeting touch on his back from weeks ago was enough to have his hormones all over the place. Coach eventually had mercy on him and sent him off to bed to get a good night's sleep as he would have to be up early for the training courts.

The minute he was behind the closed doors of his room Stiles let himself fall onto the bed, his hands already gripping at his waistband, ready to pull down his pants and boxers freeing his by now straining and leaking hard cock. Oh god, he really was desperate for release. He let his eyes fall shut and his hand gently squeezed his balls. Stiles let out a moan, not holding back on the noises he was making, and let his thoughts run wild. Imagining a hand other than his stroking and squeezing, teasing his head and slit. Before long he was imagining having Derek under him, bent over and exposed for Stiles as he was pumping into him steadily and uncompromising. Stiles changed position, rolling over onto his stomach, pulling a cushion under his chest and lifting himself up onto his knees before wrapping his hand firmly around his cock. He started thrusting into it, all the time thinking of it being Derek's heat he was pushing into. He tightened his grip a bit more to get more friction and started to hump his fist in earnest, allowing himself to whimper and moan Derek's name as he came hard a few moments later, all over his fist and sheets.

In his rush to find some relief he had completely forgotten to put a towel under him and now had to sleep in spoiled sheets which really was not that much of a pleasant experience, as he recalled from memory. When he eventually caught his breath he got up got a washcloth and cleaned himself and the sheet up as best as he could before falling back into bed, wrapping his arms around the cushion and imagining it to be a warm strong body he was curled up around. He didn't acknowledge the tears that were threatening to fall, knowing full well that this was never going to be in real life and suddenly feeling utterly empty and lonely.

X

Stiles was woken up by his coach at an ungodly hour. Thankfully his coach chose to ignore the obvious situation with his sheets and instead just shoved him under the shower. Stiles used the shower time to clear his head, mainly trying to get Derek, object of sexual frustration and desire, out of his head and replace him with Derek Hale, world number one and tennis rival who he would have to face on the court later that day.

Next he was dragged down to the breakfast area for his pre match breakfast, where they went over some of the tactics he was supposed to use today. As they were heading for Wimbledon in their official car, Stiles could slowly feel the excitement and anticipation build up. He loved this, the preparation, the anticipation of the match, the going out there and fighting for every point. He was getting into the zone. Psyching himself up.

Stiles was to meet his coach, who had gone off to attend to some official business Stiles normally didn't bother with, on the training courts at 9. But he wanted to get there a bit early to do some extra practice on his serve, which he knew on grass would be a crucial factor in winning or losing. The grounds were still empty and he decided take a stroll down to the training courts.

He had assumed the courts would be empty at this time of morning but he shouldn't' have been surprised to see Derek there, playing a pretend match against three hitters on the other side. There were reasons Derek had managed to hold on to his top spot for so long and a strict and extensive training regime was definitely one of them. Stiles couldn't help but stop and watch. Derek was giving the three people a good workout. He looked serious but relaxed as he chased after the ball again and again hitting it across the net hard with his merciless whip of a forehand which had the guys on the other side scramble after it. And all those feelings Stiles had tried to not think about for the day were back in full force and he knew he was definitely screwed (as if he still had had any doubt about that). How was he supposed to play a Wimbledon final with the real danger of a permanent boner distracting him? He was just about to turn around and head to his own court when Derek must have spotted him and called out his name and came jogging up to him.

Oh god, oh god, oh god, shit! Stiles heart was about to jump out of his chest. It was too late to pretend he hadn't heard him as he had in fact turned back around and was now looking at Derek who was smiling at him and apparently talking to him.

"Huh?"

"I said, you're out early and that I like that. Shows a real commitment to your sport." Derek said still giving him that adorable warm and open smile which Stiles would love to think of as being just reserved for him, as honestly he had not seen Derek give that smile to anyone else, well at least not when he was around. And as always that smile left him breathless.

"Ah, yeah … well, I just wanted to practice my serve for a bit before … you know…"

"The Big Match!" Derek said using air quotes to get his point across.

"Yeah, that as well, but actually … before coach comes and puts me through the paces."

"Your serve is great." Derek seemingly said out of nowhere. "Just, take it from me, on your second serve you're too easy to read. It is obvious whether you're going to serve wide or through the middle."

Stiles stared blankly at Derek. "Dude, are you … like trying to give me advice on how to actually improve my game hours before we play in the final?"

"I like a challenge," Derek stated plainly, accompanied by another one of those toothy smiles.

"Oh, ok … in that case I will try to deliver. You know I had you awfully close to a fifth set the last time."

"Yes, and you lost that tie-break due to your second serve. That was really the only thing I could fault you on."

"Oh…" Stiles could actually feel himself starting to blush. A compliment like that from Derek Hale was just not something he had prepared himself for at 9am in the morning.

"Tell you what. A challenge for you. You serve and I will try to read where you're going to serve to and return the ball. I get it right I get a point, I get it wrong you get a point. First to 20 wins." Derek offered while gesturing to the court where his hitting partners were already packing up.

Stiles had to actually let those words sink in for a moment. Now this was definitely not normal practice in anyone's books. The two finalists warming up together like that. But the offer was just too tempting to refuse. Stiles was sure he could get his serves past Derek.

"Ok, but … just out of interest … the winner gets what?"

"Apart from the satisfaction of winning you mean?" Derek teased.

"How about the winner can choose a humiliating task for the loser to do?" Derek said straight faced, eyes sparkling in a mischievous way Stiles had not seen prior.

"Oh, in that case, you're on. I can think of a way or two for you to embarrass yourself. Just let me warm up first."

Derek nodded in agreement and jogged back onto his side of the court begging Stiles to follow after.

Ten minutes later Stiles was on the service line bouncing the ball and concentrating hard on where to place it. He could see the outline of Derek on the other end of the court in his peripheral vision, swaying and bouncing in anticipation of his serve and he could feel the jitters in his stomach. Out wide he would go he decided as he threw the ball up and swung his racket changing the grip just slightly as he did so to give the ball that extra bit of spin. He hit the ball spot on and it zoomed across the net and whipped straight past Derek who was there in the right place but missed the ball by a fraction of a second.

"Ha! Ace!" Stiles yelled across the court.

"Yeah, but still my point. I could totally read where you were placing that ball! And don't forget you need to do your second serves and I doubt very much you would whip those across the court like you did the last one."

SOB. Stiles thought as he flashed him an annoyed grin before he picked up another ball and bounced it as he readied himself for another serve. This time he managed to surprise Derek who had assumed he would serve wide again but instead the ball came down the centre line and while Derek managed to get to it he barely managed to return it which would have left Stiles in a perfect position to win the point.

31 points later a rather sizeable crowd of officials and reporters had gathered around the training court and watched the weird exchange between the currently two best tennis players in the world. Derek had won 20 points to 11 but Stiles was confident he had improved his second serve more than he had over the last couple of months. He almost kind of hoped it wouldn't come back to bite Derek in the butt but then again, Derek had started this whole thing so if it did it would be his problem and not Stiles'.

They walked up towards the net and shook hands, both seemingly relaxed and smiling.

"Well done, you definitely improved from what I can tell. Now we can have a proper match later!" Derek joked and smirked at Stiles.

"Oh it's on!" Stiles snapped back not being able to hide the grin from his face.

"Guess, good luck and may the best one win." Derek said before walking over to the bench and picking up his things. As he was starting to walk away he stopped and turned around.

"Oh, and I will let you know at an opportune time about the dare."

Stiles just rolled his eyes, trying to look totally disinterested and Derek laughed before turning around and leaving the court, trying his best to avoid the eager reporters who even now tried to get a few words out of him.

Stiles was still grinning as he watched Derek leave but that was quickly wiped off his face when he saw the coach and his parents standing near the fence and giving him the evil eye. His coach gesturing at him to make his way over to their training court. Stiles grabbed his stuff and headed over to the next court as he already could hear coach hiss in his ear about why he was being so stupid and basically giving Hale a 'free' session to get him used to his serve and how he would have to pay the price for that later when Hale was going to throw his serves back in his face. And how Stiles was here to make it to world Number 1 and not to try and make friends. Stiles was sure coach was short of giving him a clip round the head he looked that furious but thankfully because of the reporters being there he had to restrain himself. His parents were doing their part to make him feel really small and foolish all of a sudden. Surely, that could not have been Derek's intention. He had Derek down as a hard but honest worker, and that would just be beneath him to try and gain advantage over his opponent like that. Still a small lingering doubt remained in the back of his head.

X

The final came and went, and Stiles never stood a chance against Derek on grass. Grass was his best surface and Stiles at times could only be in awe of the way Derek was playing, commanding the match from the first point to the last and coming up with shots that Stiles couldn't do anything else about but to applaud them. Still he managed to take him to a tie-breaker twice and had actually the chance of taking the second set on three occasions. The crowds were happy, having witnessed a fast and entertaining exchange, and cheered Stiles on enthusiastically as he received his finalist trophy and held it up for everyone to take their pictures. Of course the crowds erupted when Derek held up the winner's trophy for the fifth time and Stiles couldn't even get himself to feel envious about it. Derek Hale was one of a kind after all and he deserved every little bit of respect he got. Stiles counted it a privilege that he was even around at a time like this to play and challenge someone who no doubt would go down in history as one of the all time greats, if not as the one. He stood proudly by Derek's side holding up his trophy as they did the usual tour around the court, stopping here and there for the people and the media to snap their pictures and then leaving Derek behind to enjoy his victory as he headed for the exit and prepared himself mentally for another round of playing nice with the press.

X

Wimbledon being Wimbledon, there was the little technicality of the champions' ball to attend. That was the reason why Stiles found himself in a smart crisp black suit and currently standing making small talk with some of the other champions. The reporters already got their good fill of photos as they all arrived in style and posed for the press. Stiles had always dreamed of attending the champions' ball, albeit as the singles champion. But still, he was only 17 and realistically could have never hoped to make it here at this age.

If only his mind could stray from being stuck on repeat on Derek. His eyes on more than one occasion wandered across the table to where Derek was sitting in animated conversation with the lady's champion and if Stiles felt a little bit jealous for the way he lavished his attention on her then so be it. Derek had hardly as much as glanced at him all evening and after their playful banter earlier Stiles what not afraid to admit to himself that that kind of hurt, being ignored like that. The more he thought about it, the more Stiles couldn't help but let those words his coach uttered to him earlier about how Derek was had just taken advantage of him earlier poison his mind. Maybe Derek really just was self centred, manipulative, taking advantage of people when he could. So he tried to do the same. Ignore Derek and get stuck in conversation with the people around him.

Two hours later Stiles felt that he had done his duty. He had danced the official dance, made small talk, smiled at the right people at the right time but now he just needed some air. It was not like he was really friends with anyone here, and he must be the youngest in attendance by at least 5 years. He felt a bit like a fish out of water, not used to the continuous chitchat. He simply had run out of things he wanted to talk about and for Stiles that was saying something. He was certain a moment to himself to gather his thoughts would be all he needed. He excused himself and stepped out onto the patio area, taking in a deep breath of the cool night air and lifting his head up to the sky, enjoying the light breeze he could feel brush against his skin and hair. The quiet background noise of a very much alive city did its best in soothing his frayed nerves.

He could hear footsteps of someone else approaching and joining him at the railing, exhaling heavily but otherwise remaining silent.

Stiles held his breath as he could feel his pulse speed up uncontrollably. All his hairs were suddenly standing on edge and his stomach was churning and he could feel himself go rigid. He knew who it was that had decided to join him out here without having to actually turn to look at him. He was sure he must have developed a seventh sense when it came to Derek Hale and he hated his body for the way it was reacting to his presence. The silence was stretching uncomfortably as they stood like that for what felt like hours but realistically couldn't have been more than a minute. Stiles was fighting hard to stay in control of his breathing while wrecking his brain for something, anything he could say.

After a moment he could feel Derek shift slightly and Stiles knew he was being looked at, studied even, and Stiles had to grab hold of the railing in front of him to ground himself.

"How you're holding up? Enjoying your first champions ball?" The by now all too familiar voice of Derek was cutting through the silence and making Stiles' breath hitch.

He couldn't really bring himself to look at Derek, still too caught up in his earlier emotion of jealousy and doubt about the actual sincerity of Derek. So he huffed.

"Hey, you're ok?" Derek asked giving Stiles a concerned look briefly placing a hand on his shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze.

"Yeah, everything's fine," Stiles rasped, his voice too shrill for his liking as the heat of Derek's hand radiated into him even through the fabric of the suit. "But … What are you doing out here?" he managed to get out fighting hard to regain composure. "Shouldn't you be in there dancing the night away, enjoying your victory?" Stiles said sounding slightly harsher than he had intended to but he presently was a pool of conflicting emotions and was convinced he was dangerously close to combusting and Derek freaking Hale was not helping, being all nicey nicey and touchy feely again all of a sudden.

Derek let out a small laugh. "Look, at the risk of sounding conceited but … if you've been to one of these balls you've been to them all. Don't get me wrong, it's nice and all but after a while all this small talk kind of gets tiresome. I normally try to sneak out at the first available opportunity. Just this year you seem to have beaten me to it, so I guess you might have an idea what I'm talking about."

Stiles couldn't help but look at Derek now. His voice was a smooth low grumble, and he sounded sincere, like he wasn't hiding anything from Stiles, not like someone who would need or want to play games just to get an advantage over someone.

Stiles huffed again but his mouth curled up into a small smirk. "Of course, I forgot … five times champion!" His hand came up and he pointed a finger at Derek. "That must be really hard on you. You have my sympathies."

"So ok I know … I probably sound like a whining ungrateful shit but really, I sometimes hate all this pomp and circumstance. I'm more a simple kind of guy. I never wanted all of this," he said waving a hand in the general direction of the people inside. "Don't get me wrong. I love tennis and I wouldn't want to do anything else, and it is a great way to earn a living, but it comes at a price, as you probably well know." Derek was suddenly looking rather pensive, averting his gaze as he continued.

"Like … always having to be available and at everyone's beck-and-call. Never being able to set a foot out of line because of fear of the press or your sponsors, and … you know never being allowed to actually be, like impulsive or irrational, always having to like everybody,… or even not being able to show real honest emotions, like being fucking angry or sad or … or …" Derek suddenly paused and looked at Stiles, the remains of his smile all but vanished and replaced with a serious and almost heartbreakingly gloom expression.

Stiles gulped, feeling his mouth go dry. That intense stare Derek was giving him sent a spike of electricity straight down his spine. The thing was he understood Derek only too well. And oh god, he had to use all his willpower he had left not to just lean in and rest his head against Derek's shoulder to show him that he understood as he just didn't have the right words to say. He suddenly felt exhausted. Like all the stress and physical exhaustion of the last two weeks was suddenly catching up with him.

"Or lonely…" Stiles more whispered to himself as his eyes wandered back to rest on the hedge surrounding the patio area.

"What?" Derek asked, not sure whether he had heard Stiles correctly.

Stiles could feel his face heat up. "Lonely… I mean … it's kind of funny how you can be surrounded by people all the time and still end up feeling … alone. But I guess, you wouldn't understand that …"

"I think I understand better than you think." Derek sighed his own gaze now focusing on his hands that rested against the railing.

"But … how can you be lonely? … I thought you had someone … I mean I thought you had a girlfriend, this actress, what is her name?" Stiles stuttered and eyes wide as he looked at Derek.

Derek let out a bitter laugh. "Yeah that… for one we're not together anymore. Broke up officially two months ago."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that." Stiles felt like an idiot and wanted to put his foot in his mouth for having brought up something that so clearly still affected Derek, if the throaty tone of his voice was anything to go by. He had to avert his eyes and looked bashfully at the ground instead.

"Don't be. You want to know something?" Derek near whispered as Stiles could feel his eyes come to rest on him again. Now Derek had Stiles' undivided attention as his head snapped around and he was looking at Derek again, into those fascinating green eyes, eyebrows raised but nodding. Something in Derek's gaze told Stiles that he very much wanted to share whatever it was with him and Stiles' stomach again started to clench and develop a life of its own.

Derek leaned in and more murmured quietly into Stiles' ear than actually speak. "This whole thing with Kate had always just been a fake relationship. Arranged for by our mutual PR company. I needed a girlfriend to leave me free of unwanted advances from every available woman between 18 and 40 to allow me to focus on my career and she needed a boost of her career by being associated and seen with someone high profile. In return she would turn up at all my major events playing the doting girlfriend. And it worked well until she actually found someone and fell in love and so … well, fake relationship no more. Can't say I miss her. To be honest, she started to go on my nerves about 5 minutes after we first met, and … and the lying just drove me mad."

And Stiles could feel his internal emotional pressure reaching critical mass right about now as he stared back at Derek, mouth gaping open, as he could feel Derek's hot breath against the skin on his cheek and he was holding on to that railing for dear life, knuckles white and his heart beating double time. Again he didn't find it in him to hold Derek's gaze and had to look away. The way Derek was encroaching on his personal space had Stiles' head in a haze, and Derek made no indication about moving away again or of being uncomfortable being in such close proximity. On the contrary he placed his hand on Stiles' chin, turning his face so he had to look at Derek again.

"So… you see … I know a thing or two about feeling lonely…"

"OH…" was all that Stiles was able to utter. This was a lot to take in in such a short amount of time and he was sure his brain was fried. There was so much he wanted to say, to ask Derek. On top of the list was why he had been doing this whole charade (and to stop his brain running away with him and jumping to conclusions) but his mouth just wouldn't work. He just stared at Derek and the way Derek was looking back with these fuckingly amazing and distracting eyes was just too much. He could feel his throat constricting as he felt like he was swallowing sandpaper and felt hot and cold at the same time. If he wasn't mistaken though, he was sure Derek's own breathing had sped up as his eyes were trained on him, searching for something in Stiles' own.

Stiles swallowed nervously, everything around him had started to vanish and it was just him and Derek, looking at each other, or more likely devouring each other with their eyes. He was brought back to the here and now and jerked in shock as he suddenly felt Derek's hand on his arm giving it a gentle squeeze. Derek removed his hand immediately, like he feared he had overstepped some unspoken boundary, and smiled sadly at Stiles. "Stiles … sorry … I…"

"Ahem! Mr Hale." A voice behind them made them jump apart like they were on fire.

"Sorry to interrupt. But your car has arrived."

"Oh yes. Thanks for letting me know." He turned his gaze back to Stiles, his face suddenly adorned with an unreadable expression.

"Well, I better be going now. Got an early flight to catch. Oh and congratulations again on your title." he said before he excused himself and headed back inside, leaving Stiles bedraggled, utterly confused and emotionally all over the place.

Stiles went back to his hotel not long after, needing to be alone desperately. He buried his head in his pillow as he tried to make sense of what had happened earlier and coming up short. Nothing did make sense anymore. Having his own flight to catch in the morning, he tried to no avail to fall asleep but by 4am had all but given up and started to watch some trashy TV instead. He was sure he would get away with explaining to his coach that he couldn't get to sleep because of all the excitement of being a Wimbledon doubles champion. No one would understand or even want to try to understand what might or might not have just transpired between him and Derek so there was no point even trying. It would just be another thing he would have to keep secret, and deal with in his own time.