I am going to submit a random headcanon to you:
Stiles dragging the pack to play Laser Tag.
that played once, when he was twelve. He asked it as his birthday present, and
John and Melissa drove them to the nearest place from Beacon Hills. Stiles was
absolutely delighted, until they learned that they would be put with strangers
to form a team. It all went downhill from there.
They were left alone to be shot at fifteen seconds in, and had to hide under a ramp. Scott had an asthma attack when the fog machines started and Stiles, terrified, had to drag both of them out. He then fell into a full blown panic attack in the changing rooms.
So, not their best memory.
But fast forward seven years later. They are nineteen now, Scott is a werewolf and Stiles has been tortured and shot at. Laser tag is gonna be easy. Stiles is so ready to avenge their younger selves.
He only need a team.
Stiles prudently presents the idea during pack night. He’s not worried for most of them, he knows that most of his friends have an unhealthy love for violence and winning. He’s also ready to make Scott cry in order to convince Isaac.
The only unknown variable is their taciturn alpha. Somehow, convincing him to play with lasers in a room reeking of teenager’s hormones and sweat seems like a difficult task. But Stiles has prepared his speech, he has perfectly reasonable arguments, and he will bullshit about pack unity and trust exercises if need be.
Of course, because this is Derek and he likes to fuck up with Stiles’ expectations, he’s only finished the first sentence of his passionate plea when Derek raises one hand in the air to stop him.
“Yes,” he breathes, and smiles. They all blink at him a little. Derek keeps smiling, bunny teeth showing and looking almost… excited.
Derek’s family apparently used to throw their kids into the woods to pitch them against each other for fun.
Stiles is not surprised.
Stiles is awfully not surprised.
This was the family whose genes created Peter Hale.
Not noticing their stunned silence, Derek describes his childhood memories. During their monthly run under the full moon, adults used to hide colored pieces of tissue everywhere. The next day, Derek, his sisters and cousins were all let loose, in several teams, into the wood. At dusk, the team that was able to bring back the more targets to their home base while protecting said home base from enemy raids won. The prize was some old trophy, bragging rights and first crack at every dish during the huge dinner.
Derek is trying so hard to communicate his enthusiasm for his claws-and-fangs-allowed, hunger-game version of catch the flag that his hands are moving a little bit in the air. It’s adorable.
When Scott tries to get back on the subject of laser tag (Stiles glares at him, because Derek was sharing things), Derek immediately nods and explains helpfully that there is a place supernatural-friendly just 45 minutes away from Beacon Hills. There is no protest in the pack. Stiles bats the air with his fist in victory.
Their first game together teaches Stiles a lot of things.