Badfic challenge - Make It a Foot Long with Everything (by Moosesal)
Title: Make It a Foot Long with Everything
Author: Moosesal
Prompt: It was the alien influence from his abduction when he was 10 that made rayk join the police force. The aliens placed a subversive mental command in his MIND that the first time he had sex with his one true love he would go after his true life passion. An undercover hotdog vender disguised as a prostitute. for monroe_nell
Prompt written by: monroe_nell
Rating: R
Characters: Fraser/Kowalski, with Vecchio
It was a dark night. And a stormy night. One might even say it was a dark and stormy night. If one were to say those sort of things. Ray liked to think that he wasn't that kind of guy, but he totally was. They'd appeared in his room right next to his bed and for a brief moment he'd thought, Wow, just like Star Trek. Groovy. But then they'd taken him to their ship and drilled into his head and stuck something up his butt and talked to each other in a language he couldn't understand as they stared down at him and shook their heads as if he were somehow a disappointment to them.
When he'd wokem up the next morning he'd inexplicably known he wanted to be a Mountie when he grew up. Mounties were tough and surely nothing like this ever happened to them. There was only one problem with his dream -- Ray wasn't Canadian.
So instead of becoming a Mountie, Ray Kowalski became a hot dog vendor. He was a damn good hot dog vendor. And he was happy being a hot dog vendor too. Until Constable Benton Fraser of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police -- Call me Fraser, he'd insisted with a smile in his clear blue eyes -- and his wolf Dief -- short for Diefenbaker, of course -- literally came crashing into his life one hot summer day.
You see, Dief has a thing for junk food and while Fraser was out picking up his uniforms from the dry cleaners, Dief caught a whiff of Ray's cart and became like a thing possessed. He came running around the corner like a bat out of hell, or a wolf after a foot long chili cheese dog, apparently. And when Fraser came around the corner he'd smacked right into Ray as Ray was backing away from the wolf who had jumped up on him and was doing obscene things to his ear. It seems Ray had a bit of mustard on his left lobe. (That happens sometimes when you're slinging dogs all day.)
Fraser got real apologetic and pulled Dief off and then he smiled this smile that lit up his eyes and Ray gave Dief a hot dog. No charge, cause that smile was all the payment he needed. And Fraser and Dief had been coming back every day since.
Of course, Ray'd been having nightmares about the aliens every night since. In his dreams the aliens were dressed as Mounties and shaking their heads with disappointed looks on their faces. Ray wasn't sure how he knew they were disappointed since they didn't look like humans. But somehow in those big green heads with giant eyes and tiny mouths, he could see the same look he saw on Stella's face when she left him for a pretzel vendor with "more potential" -- whatever that meant.
Fraser wasn't like Stella though. Fraser liked Ray just the way he was. And Dief seemed to like him too. Especially when he had mustard on his ear. Of course, what Ray really wanted was for Fraser to lick mustard off his ear. Or ketchup. Or nothing really, just lick his ear. But Fraser didn't seem to be the type to go licking condiments off the ears of men. At least, Ray didn't think so until the killings started happening.
*****
"I'll take a wiener with strawberry lube between my buns, please."
Ray looked up to find Detective Ray Vecchio laughing at him. He wanted to say Fuck you. but settled for smiling when Fraser said, "Ray! Mr. Kowalski is performing a public service here in helping us catch this serial killer."
"Yeah, whatever." Vecchio snorted. "I'll be in the car."
Fraser turned to Ray and tried to apologize for Vecchio's behavior. "I'm really very sorry, Ray. Detective Vecchio is a kind person when you get to know him. He's just under a lot of stress with this case."
"Yeah." Ray watched Vecchio cross the street and get back in his car then turned back to Fraser. "So, you doing anything interesting this weekend, Fraser?"
"Well, I have to work tomorrow morning. And in the afternoon I'll be helping Ray with surveillance of your hot dog stand. I'll probably read in the evening and take Diefenbaker to the park on Sunday." Dief barked at that and Ray was pretty sure he was smiling, but it was hard to tell with the hot dog hanging half out of his mouth. "Just your average weekend."
Ray nodded. "You like hockey?"
Fraser smiled. "Of course, Ray. I'm Canadian."
"Right. Uh ..." Ray looked at everything but Fraser for a moment trying to get his nerve up. He'd been thinking about this since they first met and even more so the last few days since he started helping with the case. Finally he just took a deep breath and said, "You wanna come over and watch the Hawks tomorrow night?"
Ray hadn't thought it was possible for Fraser's smile to get any bigger and happier, but it did. And he said, "Yes, Ray. I'd love to."
Love to. Ray was in heaven. He grabbed a napkin and jotted down his address. "7:00. We can get a pizza or something."
"That would be lovely, Ray. I'll see you tomorrow."
"Yeah. Cool."
"I should get back to the car now. The killer's not going to come up here with me standing here in uniform."
"Right. Okay. See ya."
And that was how they made a date for hockey. How Ray ended up blowing Fraser ten minutes into the first period while they waited for the pizza to arrive, and again during the second period, and how they had sex on the couch, in the bed, and finally in the shower is a story for another day. But the result of all that incredible sex was that Ray fell in love. Truly, madly, deeply in love. And Fraser seemed pretty damn happy too. And that night when Ray dreamed of the alien Mounties, he thought they might be smiling at him. In the morning he told Fraser about his dream and that he wanted to become a Mountie and help people. Fraser was really nice to him when he told him Ray couldn't be a Mountie. And instead of laughing he suggested Ray become a cop and Ray wondered why he'd never thought of that.
But you're probably wondering about the whole serial killer thing, right? Well see, there were a series of hot-dog-vendors-by-day, hustlers-by-night (which sounds ludicrous, but they're everywhere in the big cities and Ray wondered if the pretzel guys were working nights too and if that was how Stell'as new man managed to be more financially solvent than Ray was) who'd turned up dead over the last couple months.
Anyway, the police had tried placing one of their own guys undercover, but it seemed that whoever the killer was, he knew a real vendor from a phony one. You just can't fake being a hot dog vendor -- there's a certain scent that you can only get from slinging dogs for years. The cop wasn't fooling anybody. So when Vecchio'd ended up with the case and mentioned it to Fraser, he'd suggested that they use Ray as bait for the killer. Well, Fraser didn't actually use the word "bait", but that was what he meant.
Vecchio got it approved, Fraser asked Ray, Ray said yes, and now there he was spending his days on the corner with his hot dog stand and his nights leaning against the wall, mustard and ketchup strategically placed to draw out the killer.
Ray could feel Fraser's eyes on him. He sighed and slouched back against the wall, one foot pulled up against the brick. He had his thumbs tucked into his pockets with his fingers framing his cock. He was hard in his pants, because who wouldn't be with a boyfriend like Fraser staring at him in the dark while he pretended to be selling himself? Ray was reaching up to muss his hair when a man in a dark trench coat came around the corner and stopped to stare at him.
"Hey," Ray said as he tipped his head to the side and eyed the man up. "Lookin' for a date?"
"Maybe," the man replied. He stepped closer and Ray could tell he was staring at the smudge of spicy brown mustard on his collarbone -- Fraser'd put it there and Ray couldn't wait to get home and have him lick it off of him. Scary trench coat man wanted him, Ray just had to close the deal and take the guy into the alley where the cops would arrest him. He reached his arms up over his head, stretching his back and letting his shirt slide up to reveal a sliver of his six-pack abs. Ray was slim, but toned -- he stuck to the turkey dogs himself.
"Looks aren't free," Ray said with a leer.
"How much?" The man asked. There was something in his eyes that made Ray a little nervous, but Detectives Huey and Dewey were around the corner. And Fraser and Vecchio were watching from across the street. He could do this.
"What do you want."
"I want to slide a foot long dog between your buns, hot dog boy. I want to do it with mustard and ketchup and relish."
Ray's eyes widened. He felt his palms get sweaty and his heart start racing. This had to be the guy. The other victims had been covered in condiments and sodomized with processed meats. He swallowed and kept his cool -- maybe Fraser was right, maybe he could become a cop, he said Put 'em up, sicko, you're under arrest in his head. He smiled at the man and answered, "Two hundred. But you gotta use the stuff from my cart." He jerked his chin at his cart on the corner. "I'm picky about my relish."
"Of course." The man ogled him and motioned toward the alley. Ray went to his cart and wheeled it over, following the man into the darkness.
They turned the corner and the stranger was on him, he pressed Ray face-first against the wall and told him not to move as he went for a squeeze bottle in the basket on top of Ray's cart. As he turned back to Ray with ketchup in one hand and a switchblade in the other, Huey and Dewey popped out of a dark doorway and Fraser and Vecchio came into the alley from the street. Ray nearly peed his pants he was so grateful they got there before the guy did anything else.
***
It turned out the guy was the killer. His dad had been a hot dog vendor and had been very strict. He'd named the guy Oscar Mayer, so it was no wonder he had sociopath tendencies. It all made sense, really.
Ray testified in court and Mr. Mayer was sent away to prison for a very long time. Ray realized that being a cop was as good as being a Mountie and went to the police academy and got his badge. He figured he owed a bit of thanks to the aliens for that so he'd look up in the sky now and then and wave.
He ran into Stella and her pretzel vendor husband outside the precinct one day. She looked more disappointed than ever when she saw Fraser by his side. Disappointed that she hadn't recognized a good thing when she had it. Or maybe disappointed that the pretzel guy only had mustard and salt.
After a year, Ray got partnered up with Detective Vecchio and they hated each other but made a good team. Fraser worked with them sometimes in his capacity as liaison from the Canadian Consulate. Fraser and Ray and Dief got an apartment together and Ray made hot dogs every Saturday -- foot long chili cheese dogs for Dief, turkey dogs for Fraser and himself (because they had to be a little bit healthy). They watched hockey and traded blow jobs between periods. They kept condiments in the fridge and in the bedroom -- Fraser'd taken a real liking to licking mustard off Ray's neck. And they lived happily ever after.
The End.
Author: Moosesal
Prompt: It was the alien influence from his abduction when he was 10 that made rayk join the police force. The aliens placed a subversive mental command in his MIND that the first time he had sex with his one true love he would go after his true life passion. An undercover hotdog vender disguised as a prostitute. for monroe_nell
Prompt written by: monroe_nell
Rating: R
Characters: Fraser/Kowalski, with Vecchio
It was a dark night. And a stormy night. One might even say it was a dark and stormy night. If one were to say those sort of things. Ray liked to think that he wasn't that kind of guy, but he totally was. They'd appeared in his room right next to his bed and for a brief moment he'd thought, Wow, just like Star Trek. Groovy. But then they'd taken him to their ship and drilled into his head and stuck something up his butt and talked to each other in a language he couldn't understand as they stared down at him and shook their heads as if he were somehow a disappointment to them.
When he'd wokem up the next morning he'd inexplicably known he wanted to be a Mountie when he grew up. Mounties were tough and surely nothing like this ever happened to them. There was only one problem with his dream -- Ray wasn't Canadian.
So instead of becoming a Mountie, Ray Kowalski became a hot dog vendor. He was a damn good hot dog vendor. And he was happy being a hot dog vendor too. Until Constable Benton Fraser of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police -- Call me Fraser, he'd insisted with a smile in his clear blue eyes -- and his wolf Dief -- short for Diefenbaker, of course -- literally came crashing into his life one hot summer day.
You see, Dief has a thing for junk food and while Fraser was out picking up his uniforms from the dry cleaners, Dief caught a whiff of Ray's cart and became like a thing possessed. He came running around the corner like a bat out of hell, or a wolf after a foot long chili cheese dog, apparently. And when Fraser came around the corner he'd smacked right into Ray as Ray was backing away from the wolf who had jumped up on him and was doing obscene things to his ear. It seems Ray had a bit of mustard on his left lobe. (That happens sometimes when you're slinging dogs all day.)
Fraser got real apologetic and pulled Dief off and then he smiled this smile that lit up his eyes and Ray gave Dief a hot dog. No charge, cause that smile was all the payment he needed. And Fraser and Dief had been coming back every day since.
Of course, Ray'd been having nightmares about the aliens every night since. In his dreams the aliens were dressed as Mounties and shaking their heads with disappointed looks on their faces. Ray wasn't sure how he knew they were disappointed since they didn't look like humans. But somehow in those big green heads with giant eyes and tiny mouths, he could see the same look he saw on Stella's face when she left him for a pretzel vendor with "more potential" -- whatever that meant.
Fraser wasn't like Stella though. Fraser liked Ray just the way he was. And Dief seemed to like him too. Especially when he had mustard on his ear. Of course, what Ray really wanted was for Fraser to lick mustard off his ear. Or ketchup. Or nothing really, just lick his ear. But Fraser didn't seem to be the type to go licking condiments off the ears of men. At least, Ray didn't think so until the killings started happening.
*****
"I'll take a wiener with strawberry lube between my buns, please."
Ray looked up to find Detective Ray Vecchio laughing at him. He wanted to say Fuck you. but settled for smiling when Fraser said, "Ray! Mr. Kowalski is performing a public service here in helping us catch this serial killer."
"Yeah, whatever." Vecchio snorted. "I'll be in the car."
Fraser turned to Ray and tried to apologize for Vecchio's behavior. "I'm really very sorry, Ray. Detective Vecchio is a kind person when you get to know him. He's just under a lot of stress with this case."
"Yeah." Ray watched Vecchio cross the street and get back in his car then turned back to Fraser. "So, you doing anything interesting this weekend, Fraser?"
"Well, I have to work tomorrow morning. And in the afternoon I'll be helping Ray with surveillance of your hot dog stand. I'll probably read in the evening and take Diefenbaker to the park on Sunday." Dief barked at that and Ray was pretty sure he was smiling, but it was hard to tell with the hot dog hanging half out of his mouth. "Just your average weekend."
Ray nodded. "You like hockey?"
Fraser smiled. "Of course, Ray. I'm Canadian."
"Right. Uh ..." Ray looked at everything but Fraser for a moment trying to get his nerve up. He'd been thinking about this since they first met and even more so the last few days since he started helping with the case. Finally he just took a deep breath and said, "You wanna come over and watch the Hawks tomorrow night?"
Ray hadn't thought it was possible for Fraser's smile to get any bigger and happier, but it did. And he said, "Yes, Ray. I'd love to."
Love to. Ray was in heaven. He grabbed a napkin and jotted down his address. "7:00. We can get a pizza or something."
"That would be lovely, Ray. I'll see you tomorrow."
"Yeah. Cool."
"I should get back to the car now. The killer's not going to come up here with me standing here in uniform."
"Right. Okay. See ya."
And that was how they made a date for hockey. How Ray ended up blowing Fraser ten minutes into the first period while they waited for the pizza to arrive, and again during the second period, and how they had sex on the couch, in the bed, and finally in the shower is a story for another day. But the result of all that incredible sex was that Ray fell in love. Truly, madly, deeply in love. And Fraser seemed pretty damn happy too. And that night when Ray dreamed of the alien Mounties, he thought they might be smiling at him. In the morning he told Fraser about his dream and that he wanted to become a Mountie and help people. Fraser was really nice to him when he told him Ray couldn't be a Mountie. And instead of laughing he suggested Ray become a cop and Ray wondered why he'd never thought of that.
But you're probably wondering about the whole serial killer thing, right? Well see, there were a series of hot-dog-vendors-by-day, hustlers-by-night (which sounds ludicrous, but they're everywhere in the big cities and Ray wondered if the pretzel guys were working nights too and if that was how Stell'as new man managed to be more financially solvent than Ray was) who'd turned up dead over the last couple months.
Anyway, the police had tried placing one of their own guys undercover, but it seemed that whoever the killer was, he knew a real vendor from a phony one. You just can't fake being a hot dog vendor -- there's a certain scent that you can only get from slinging dogs for years. The cop wasn't fooling anybody. So when Vecchio'd ended up with the case and mentioned it to Fraser, he'd suggested that they use Ray as bait for the killer. Well, Fraser didn't actually use the word "bait", but that was what he meant.
Vecchio got it approved, Fraser asked Ray, Ray said yes, and now there he was spending his days on the corner with his hot dog stand and his nights leaning against the wall, mustard and ketchup strategically placed to draw out the killer.
Ray could feel Fraser's eyes on him. He sighed and slouched back against the wall, one foot pulled up against the brick. He had his thumbs tucked into his pockets with his fingers framing his cock. He was hard in his pants, because who wouldn't be with a boyfriend like Fraser staring at him in the dark while he pretended to be selling himself? Ray was reaching up to muss his hair when a man in a dark trench coat came around the corner and stopped to stare at him.
"Hey," Ray said as he tipped his head to the side and eyed the man up. "Lookin' for a date?"
"Maybe," the man replied. He stepped closer and Ray could tell he was staring at the smudge of spicy brown mustard on his collarbone -- Fraser'd put it there and Ray couldn't wait to get home and have him lick it off of him. Scary trench coat man wanted him, Ray just had to close the deal and take the guy into the alley where the cops would arrest him. He reached his arms up over his head, stretching his back and letting his shirt slide up to reveal a sliver of his six-pack abs. Ray was slim, but toned -- he stuck to the turkey dogs himself.
"Looks aren't free," Ray said with a leer.
"How much?" The man asked. There was something in his eyes that made Ray a little nervous, but Detectives Huey and Dewey were around the corner. And Fraser and Vecchio were watching from across the street. He could do this.
"What do you want."
"I want to slide a foot long dog between your buns, hot dog boy. I want to do it with mustard and ketchup and relish."
Ray's eyes widened. He felt his palms get sweaty and his heart start racing. This had to be the guy. The other victims had been covered in condiments and sodomized with processed meats. He swallowed and kept his cool -- maybe Fraser was right, maybe he could become a cop, he said Put 'em up, sicko, you're under arrest in his head. He smiled at the man and answered, "Two hundred. But you gotta use the stuff from my cart." He jerked his chin at his cart on the corner. "I'm picky about my relish."
"Of course." The man ogled him and motioned toward the alley. Ray went to his cart and wheeled it over, following the man into the darkness.
They turned the corner and the stranger was on him, he pressed Ray face-first against the wall and told him not to move as he went for a squeeze bottle in the basket on top of Ray's cart. As he turned back to Ray with ketchup in one hand and a switchblade in the other, Huey and Dewey popped out of a dark doorway and Fraser and Vecchio came into the alley from the street. Ray nearly peed his pants he was so grateful they got there before the guy did anything else.
***
It turned out the guy was the killer. His dad had been a hot dog vendor and had been very strict. He'd named the guy Oscar Mayer, so it was no wonder he had sociopath tendencies. It all made sense, really.
Ray testified in court and Mr. Mayer was sent away to prison for a very long time. Ray realized that being a cop was as good as being a Mountie and went to the police academy and got his badge. He figured he owed a bit of thanks to the aliens for that so he'd look up in the sky now and then and wave.
He ran into Stella and her pretzel vendor husband outside the precinct one day. She looked more disappointed than ever when she saw Fraser by his side. Disappointed that she hadn't recognized a good thing when she had it. Or maybe disappointed that the pretzel guy only had mustard and salt.
After a year, Ray got partnered up with Detective Vecchio and they hated each other but made a good team. Fraser worked with them sometimes in his capacity as liaison from the Canadian Consulate. Fraser and Ray and Dief got an apartment together and Ray made hot dogs every Saturday -- foot long chili cheese dogs for Dief, turkey dogs for Fraser and himself (because they had to be a little bit healthy). They watched hockey and traded blow jobs between periods. They kept condiments in the fridge and in the bedroom -- Fraser'd taken a real liking to licking mustard off Ray's neck. And they lived happily ever after.
The End.