#'cause claire's just like 'you're gonna get yourself hurt you idiot'

[mibasiamille]

Dialog/Spoken Line Prompts! 1. Claire "Right now, I'm not sure if I want to kiss you or shove you off a bridge." Jamie: "Can I choose?" 2. "I'm sorry I stabbed you. I love you." 3. "Hurry up, I'm running out of secrets here." 4. Claire: "I'd agree with you, but we'd both be wrong." 5. "The sun hasn't even come up yet and you want me to do WHAT?" 6. J: "Technically, it wasn't on fire." C: "Of course, it wasn't on fire! You completely blew it up!" Bonus points if you use all six. In any order.

Mr. & Mrs. James Fraser Bond

this is honestly just a stupid thing that I wanted to write bc honestly, who doesn’t want to see a james-bond-ish version of jamie and claire?

i hope you enjoy! x

“The sun hasn’t even come up yet, and you want me to do what?”

Jamie sighed exasperatedly at his wife, adjusting his cummerbund once more before pulling his jacket over his shoulders. “Come with me, Sassenach.”

“On one of your silly missions? I don’t think so.” She rolled her eyes, “You’re going to get yourself hurt.”

“But if you’re wi’ me then you’ll be able to help, if the need arises.”

Claire’s eyebrows rose as she sat up in bed, crossing her arms. “From the stories I’ve heard, I don’t really think that’s a good idea.”

“You’d be missing out on all the fun,” he teased, putting on his cufflinks and brushing his hair back once more with his hand.

“If by fun you mean ‘killing people and setting buildings on fire’, I think I’ll pass.”

“Well, technically, it wasn’t on fire—“

“Ah, of course, it wasn’t on fire! You completely blew it up!”

Having nothing to add, Jamie awkwardly stood in front of the mirror as he attempted to fix his very crooked bow-tie. Eventually, Claire got annoyed at watching him try—and epically fail—to fix the garment, and moved from her perch on the couch to re-tie it for him. He down smiled at her.

“Do you not remember where you came from, Sassenach?” he asked, wrapping a curled piece of hair around his finger. “Where we met?”

She raised her eyebrows at his answer, but didn’t look him in the eyes. “Of course I remember, you brute.”

“And how hard would it be to just… do the same thing you did then, but now?”

Meeting his eyes, she sighed and said, “I really don’t know if I want to kiss you or shove you off a bridge.”

He raised his eyebrows sardonically. “Can I choose?”

Smiling, she chose the former, but warned, “If we pass by any bridges on our way there, you better watch your back.”

Jamie filled Claire in on their way to the gala, sitting in the backseat of the large, black Escalade. She rolled her eyes multiple times at the absurdity of the ordeal they were seeing themselves in—an art thief, a priceless artifact, the people trying to steal it—but this was Jamie’s job, and he had asked her to help him. And, being the dutiful wife that she was, had given him her word she’d help him.

“So what, exactly, do you need me to do?”

“Distract the thief. Keep his eyes on you and not on the piece.”

“But doesn’t that counteract what you’re trying to do? If you take the piece, doesn’t that make you the thief?”

He shook his head, “No’ exactly, Sassenach. At least, not when the government is yer employer.”

“How on Earth am I, of all people, going to distract him?”

“Ye ken how to do that, fine enough,” Jamie smiled, leaning close enough to his wife that their foreheads met. “Especially dressed as ye are. Christ, it would be hard for you not to distract him, Sassenach.”

She smiled, leaning closer until their lips met.

A moment later, Jamie leaned back and asked, “I guess you changed yer mind, then?”

Claire hummed once before saying, through a few chuckles, “I’d say yes, but I can’t say the same for my future self.”

Have ye found him yet, Sassenach? Jamie asked, distorted through the earpiece.

Claire, a bit peeved, sighed loudly before murmuring, “Not yet. Quite frustrated right now, to be honest.”

Jamie made a tsk noise on the other end of the line. Maybe he skipped out; figured it wasna worth the risk.

“I would agree with you, but then we would both end up being wrong.”

Not a moment after she said this, she spotted him across the way. The lines of his face were deep and dark, as if he was always frowning. His hairline, slightly receding from his forehead, didn’t take away from the attractiveness of his tanned face. Claire had thought she’d seen him somewhere before, but then it clicked.

“Jamie, have you seen his face before?” She murmured, turning her face away from the man.

I havena. No’ yet, anyway. Why?

Claire swallowed, her voice thick. “It’s him.”

Despite Jamie’s best efforts—there are only so many times he could say Stay away from him, Claire to make her actually do such a thing—Claire had approached the man with little hesitation. She had confronted him once before, and was more than able to handle herself around him.

One thing she did know, however: he was more than just an art thief.

Don’t tell him anything, Claire. Jamie had said, as if Claire didn’t already know how to handle herself.

She spent the next few hours talking to the man. Fortunately, she had done enough to herself that he hadn’t recognized her completely, but by reading his facial expressions and analyzing his word choice, she knew there was at least something about her that he could sense.

As he turned away to get a drink, she murmured to her earpiece, “Hurry up, you bloody Scot, I’m running out of secrets here.”

In the middle of a skirmish with the thieves, Claire had accidentally stabbed Jamie.

It had all happened so quickly, but the moment that it happened, she knew that there was a reason she shouldn’t have come.

Thankfully, they had other agents in the same area, and they could escape without blowing the entire operation. She had taken him into a spare room, pulled her make-shift medical kit from her clutch and went to start on his wound.

It wasn’t anything more than a deep cut—more of a scrape than an actual stab—but it was still painful for them both.

“I’m so sorry I stabbed you,” she murmured over her work, watching Jamie’s chest heaving up and down as he gulped down some more whiskey.

Jamie shrugged, smiling at her, “If ye want the truth, I’d rather you stab and kill me more than anyone else. That way, I can look at your face as I die.”

“Rather dramatic tonight, aren’t you?” She teased, trimming the last stitch carefully and applying the bandages to the wound. Every once in a while, his breath would catch, and her heart would clench just a bit.

When she was done with her handiwork, she pulled herself up to him and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I love you.”

He smiled, “I love ye, too, mo chride.”

She placed a soft kiss to his temple. A moment later, he laughed quietly to himself before murmuring, “How is my wife more badass than I am?”

“Because you try way too hard, darling.”