trisscar368:

It took a while, after the Winchesters had moved in to the Bunker, but eventually they both felt at home.  Like they had a home.  They had someplace to leave their things, separate spaces, more privacy than they’d ever had on the road.  They started collecting more personal items; books, music, more shoes.

Quite separately, but around the same time, both Sam and Dean started collecting something else too.  Dean was the first; he told Sam he was heading out for a drink, then drove himself to the tiny store he’d spotted a few weeks back.  He wandered back and forth looking over the selections, pretending to be more interested in the rack of porn up front, but he finally snagged a slim silicone sleeve and a prostate massager, slapped them on the counter with a few twenties, and made his escape.  He spent the evening at the bar and sneaked the bag back into his room long after Sam had gone to sleep.

The entire bag was missing the next day after breakfast.  So was his bottle of lube.  A heated shouting match of “don’t touch my stuff!” and “I didn’t touch your anything!” followed; Dean waited a few hours before breaking into Sam’s room.  He found nothing.

Sam didn’t know, but he picked the same toy store when he went on his own trip, out ‘grocery shopping.’  One cock ring vibrator and a dildo he wasn’t sure he was brave enough to try went into the bag, into the trunk, and carefully into his room.  Both items were gone after dinner; so, weirdly enough, was his brand new pair of headphones.

More shouting, more accusations that skirted around mentioning what actually went missing, and both Winchesters settled in to fume.  It became sort of a competition for each of them to buy the weirdest and worst toys they could find in the hope of breaking the other.  One after another, tentacle dildos and plugs and rings and clamps and lube of the worst possible flavors all went missing.  The people at the toy shop got to know both Winchesters by name.  Sam started ordering things online.  Both of them started enlisting Castiel to help them search the Bunker from top to bottom, though that ended when they found out Cas was working for both sides.

About seven weeks into the Winchester Dildo Cold War, Castiel opened a broom closet.  He’d gotten a bit turned around looking for one of the storage rooms.  A pile of empty lube bottles, discarded batteries, and glass dildos lay inside, along with scraps of electronics.  Dean about had an apoplectic fit when Cas walked into the kitchen with a 14-inch glass dick in his hand.

They sorted through the rubbish in the closet together, getting more confused and more frustrated with every bottle and broken toy they could identify; there was a lot missing.  Both of them would have been laughing if they hadn’t been so furious at the situation.

Sam finally put it together a few days later.

“Dude.”

“What.”

“Everything that’s missing had silicone in it.”

“So… we have silicone eating fairies in the Bunker?”

“Maybe?”

“That’s just… fantastic.”

The Dildo War ended, and no matter how many times the Bunker left the Winchester’s credit cards out in plain view or manipulated Dean’s magazines so they were open on pages with new toys, they made sure not to buy silicone products for it to eat.