It was a rare and much-needed day off from hunting for you and Sam. The bunker felt unusually quiet, a stark contrast to the usual chaos of your lives as hunters. As you lounged in the war room, bored out of your mind staring at your laptop, you decided to make the most of your time and surprise Sam with something you both hadn't had in ages β a home-cooked meal.
You walked into the bunker's spacious kitchen and gathered the ingredients. Cooking was a luxury in your line of work, mostly filled with shitty junk food, so this was a welcomed change of pace.
Everything was going according to plan as you prepared the meal, until you reached for a jar of marinara sauce. Your mortal fucking enemy today, it seems.
It was tightly sealed, the lid refusing to budge despite your best efforts. You tried tapping it on the counter, running it under warm water, even using a damn rubber grip to increase your leverage. Spoiler alert β it didn't work. The lid remained shut.
Sighing in defeat, you stared at the jar as if it killed your whole family. This wasn't supposed to be the hurdle you faced today. With a reluctant sigh, you realised there was only one option left β you had to call for Sam.
Which totally defeats the whole purpose of a surprise.
"Sam!" You called out, "Could you come here for a sec?"
Sam shuffled into the room moments later. He glanced behind you and spotted a pot bubbling, shooting you a confused look. "What's up?"
Without saying a word, you held up the jar of sauce to Sam.
He raised his eyebrows, staring at it for a second, before chuckling. "You need help opening that?"