mmm. porn.

[schmerica]

The thing about "Mountie & Soul" is, it's actually not one of my favorite episodes to watch; there's a bunch of little things that make me squirmy or uncomfortable about it. But in terms of episodes to just stare at the screencaps for -- oh, man. Seriously, there are very very few episodes where Ray Kowalski manages to be hotter than this. Something about the blue hoodie + the sunglasses + the khakis that make his legs look eight feet long + something indefinable = HOT-ASS.

Also, looking at the screencaps of him getting dressed in the locker room makes me want to write porn. It just does, okay?







If you can look at that series of images and not have the Fraser inside your head start thinking about the graceful curve of his spine or tracing Ray's muscles with his tongue, you are a stronger and more clean-minded person than I am.

(Screencaps from stormymouse.net.)

Comments

[mondschein1.livejournal.com]

Fraser watches Ray worriedly; he seems to be struggling to lift his arms over his head, and the holster has settled firmly around his forearms. "Do you need some help?" he offers, not knowing what else to do.

"No," Ray snaps without hesitation, and gives Fraser a look that is half-annoyance and half-weariness.

Fraser just blinks at him, and waits for him to, by some miracle, improve his condition and suddenly become self-sufficient. As it happens, Ray possesses no such abilities; he just jerks his arms up a little ways and slumps back down again, the holster perfectly stable where it is. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, Fraser, I am sure, okay? Do not play mom with me. I'm fine. Just great. Do it all the time."

Well. If that's the way he's going to be about it -- "I see," Fraser replies, in his best formal voice. "Well then. Pardon me." He turns his back to Ray -- if Ray is too proud to accept aid from a friend, that is just fine. However, that does not mean that Fraser has to watch his friend harm himself for nearly no reason.

But Dief -- being far too contrary for his own good -- doesn't seem to agree, and is whining at him stubbornly. "Well," he tells Dief over his shoulder, "I am merely respecting Ray's wishes. After all, he is more familiar with pugilism than I -- "

"Boxing," Ray corrects tiredly, "and yeah, I am, so you can cut the snark, okay?"

Dief growls.

"It's not my place to decide whether he's being foolish," Fraser returns tightly. "He is a mature adult, perfectly capable of making rational decisions on his own -- "

Dief snorts.

"Well, I doubt he would agree."

Dief shakes himself vigorously -- the lupine expression of condescension -- and trots in the direction of the bench, out of Fraser's field of view. "Hey," Ray says suddenly, "hey, don't -- that's not -- hey, stop that, I can do it, I'm just taking my time, is all. You -- ow, ow, ow, dammit -- " Fraser turns a little -- to see if Dief need restraining, not for anything else -- and finds that Dief has climbed up behind Ray on the bench, his nose tucked under the taut length of holster strap between Ray's arms and nudging it up, little by little. One last nudge, and the whole apparatus settles on Ray's shoulders, the way it's supposed to be.

Ray gives a sigh that appears to be relieved, but probably isn't -- after all, he could certainly have put the thing on by himself if he'd really wanted to. He hadn't needed help. He'd said as much -- but now he's hanging his head, rolling his shoulders and wincing. "Okay," he says, rolling his head around, lips pulled back into a grimace, "I'm good."

"Shall we go?" Fraser inquires, as though Ray's had no trouble with the simple task of getting dressed.

"Yeah." Ray pushes himself to his feet, going slowly, and hobbles toward him. "Thanks, Fraser," he mutters as he passes, clapping Fraser feebly on the shoulder and heading out the door with a look of grim determination.

Fraser looks back at Dief, who jumps off of the bench gracefully, sneezes twice, and bounds over to the staircase. "Well," Fraser retorts, a little miffed, "you needn't extend the generalization to the species as a whole."

[pearl-o.livejournal.com]

Heeeeee. Oh, DIEF.

[mondschein1.livejournal.com]

Yes, DIEF. *sighs* I want him to come sit under my desk and smell like dog and nose at my legs.

[starfishchick]

N'awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww, that is just excellent.

DIEF!!

[mondschein1.livejournal.com]

Dief is obviously the best. This is why HE gets laid and everybody else doesn't.

[starfishchick]

He IS the best. So much love!! (The first time I saw the wee Dief puppies, I called listersgirl and cooed at her for, like, an hour.

[mondschein1.livejournal.com]

They are SO FUZZY and strangely spherical and squirmy and hyperactive and -- I mean, PUPPIES. Nothing that's not so cute you want to die would be called something like "PUPPIES."

[http://users.livejournal.com/_divya_/]

Yay, Dief! Yes, it certain could have happened that way! AWW.

[mondschein1.livejournal.com]

*cuddles Dief* He is so SNUGGLY.

[buzzylittleb.livejournal.com]

It's Dief! The Canadian version of Lassie!

[mondschein1.livejournal.com]

*giggles* I don't think Lassie snarked quite that much. I guess the politeness thing works the opposite way with dogs.