#care package

Y/n’s point of view

The sticky sweetness of Nashville in August clung to the air, even inside the dimly lit booth at Mac’s Drive-In. The jukebox in the corner hummed a familiar country tune, a soundtrack to our weekly tradition. My best friends, Miranda and Hailey, were across from me, their faces flushed from laughter and the generous amount of milkshake they’d already devoured.

“Seriously, Y/n,” Miranda began, wiping a smudge of chocolate from her chin, “you’ve been staring at that phone like it’s going to magically transmit Bradley into this booth.”

I flushed, looking down at my half-eaten burger. “It’s not like that. I’m just… waiting for his next message. He said he’d check in when he could.” Deployment was still a fresh wound, even after seven months. Bradley, my Bradley, was out there somewhere, doing his thing, and I was stuck here, navigating life in Nashville without him.

Hailey, ever the instigator, grinned. “Ooh, is he going to send you more of those adorable little voice notes where he tries to sound all tough and military but you can hear him trying not to giggle?”

I playfully swatted her arm. “Hey! He’s serious about his job. And he’s not ‘trying not to giggle,’ he’s just… endeared by my incessant need for his voice.”

Miranda leaned in, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Well, you deserve it. Three years, Y/n! Three years you’ve been head-over-heels for our high-flying pilot. And he’s been gone for six months. That’s practically an eternity in dating years, especially when you two are so… smitten.”

We’d been through it all together, Miranda , Hailey, and I. Kindergarten finger-painting disasters, awkward middle school dances, and navigating the treacherous waters of college. Now, Hailey was a budding graphic designer, Miranda was working her way up in the Civilian Military support ladder, and me. Well, I was Y/n, the girl who wrote songs and had somehow snagged the heart of a fighter pilot named Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw.

“Smitten is a good word,” I admitted, a soft smile gracing my lips. “He’s… he’s everything.”

Hailey snorted, her eyes darting to a framed photo of Buddy Holly on the wall. “He’s everything, but he’s not that great at texting apparently. Maybe he’s too busy doing… pilot things. Like, you know, being all heroic and… masculine.” She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

I rolled my eyes, but a laugh bubbled up. “Oh, here we go. You two are going to do this all night, aren’t you?”

“We have to keep you entertained, sweetie,” Miranda chimed in, grabbing a handful of my fries. “Someone has to keep Y/n from spiraling into a black hole of deployment melancholy.”

“Hey!” I snatched the fries back. “These are mine! And I’m not spiraling. I’m just… missing him.”

Hailey smirked, leaning back again. “Missing him so much you might explode? Or maybe missing him so much you just want to… you know. Reconnect. In a… physical way.” She said the last part with a theatrical whisper, making Miranda snicker.

“You guys are unbelievable,” I mumbled, taking a big gulp of my lemonade with my cheeks turning red. “We haven’t slept together. I’m still a virgin until my wedding night.”

“No, you’re the unbelievable one, Y/n,” Miranda said, her tone shifting to mock seriousness. “Three years, and you’re telling me you haven’t… you know… done the deed yet?”

Hailey gasped dramatically, placing a hand over her heart. “Blasphemy! Y/n! Our little singer, still a virgin? I thought surely with Rooster… with all that swagger and the uniform…” She trailed off, her eyes wide with disbelief.

I wanted to disappear. Miranda and Hailey knew about my… situation. It wasn’t something I advertised, but they’d coaxed it out of me eventually, in a similar haze of late-night talks and shared secrets. Bradley knew, of course. He’d been incredibly understanding, never pushing, always respecting my boundaries. He’d told me that when the time was right for both of us, it would be right.

“It’s not a big deal,” I insisted, trying to sound nonchalant. “We’re taking our time. He understands.”

“Understands what?” Hailey squeaked. “That he’s dating a literal angel? Because that’s the only explanation for him not having… taken advantage of the situation.”

“He’s not ‘taking advantage’ of anything!” I shot back, my voice rising. “He’s in love with me. And I’m in love with him. It’s not about… that.”

Miranda reached across the table and squeezed my hand, winking at me. “We know, sweetie. We’re just messing with you. Mostly. But seriously, has he never whispered sweet nothings in your ear about how… skilled he must be in bed? Because I bet with all that precision flying, he’s got some serious coordination.”

“Don’t worry, Little Singe. I’ll rock your world - Hey!”

I threw a fry at Hailey. “Stop it! Only Rooster can call me ‘little singer’!” My voice held a stern edge, though a blush still painted my cheeks. It was a nickname he’d given me, it was his. Not theirs.

Hailey giggled, dodging the fry. “Okay, okay! Point taken. But still, virginity at our age is practically a mythical creature. Especially for someone as… passionate as you are about Bradley.”

“I’m passionate about him because he’s a good person,” I defended, feeling a bit weary of the interrogation. “He’s kind, he’s brave, he makes me laugh. And yes, he’s incredibly handsome. But it’s more than just… physical attraction for me.”

“Of course, it is, honey,” Miranda said softly, her teasing tone softening. “We know. We just… we’re older sisters for a reason. We worry. And we like to tease you. It’s our job.”

Hailey twirled some of her hair in between her fingers, revealing something so causally that me and Miranda had no clue about until this moment. “Jake and I tease each other all the time and we’re not putting any kind of labels on our relationship right now-“

“Hold the freaking phone!” Miranda spit out some of her drink she had in her mouth when I slammed my hands down on the table. “You’re hooking up with Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin and didn’t think to tell us.”

Miranda got up from her chair getting in her face with a serious yet still childish grin on her face with Hailey scooting back in her seat trying to create some space. “Oh you’re definitely getting interrogated now, girl.” Smirking in her direction I could only imagine what kind of teasing Bradley would receive from the Dagger Squad when he got the care package I made for him last month.

Aircraft Carrier – Mail Room

Bradley’s name is called, and he catches the box before it hits the deck. The handwriting across the top makes his chest ache in the best way. He carries it back to the ready room, already smiling. He cut the box open coming face to face with four items. He picked up the first item which was a neatly folded blue and white flannel, when he held it in his hands his nose sniffed the air making him grin. It smelled like her perfume and he knew it was one of her favorite flannel shirts. Next, there was a folded piece of paper with lyrics scribbled on it and some doodled hearts in the margins.

Pulling out the third item he found out it was a Polaroid of her flashing her engagement ring at the camera with Bradley standing behind her with his arms around her middle, both of them grinning like children. All the other items had brought a smile to his face but it was the last one that made him snort out a laugh with a huge dorkish grin on his face. A small purple guitar pick taped to a note with the words: “Still hate purple. Love you anyway.”

Bradley chuckles, brushing his thumb over the photo. “You’re ridiculous…”

““Bradshaw, what’s this? Oh my god, she sent you a picture of the ring. You’re officially whipped.” Hangman suddenly appeared behind him, making him jump up in the air and nearly drop the photo on the floor.

Phoenix corrected him. “Not whipped. Engaged. Which is worse. You’re about to be someone’s husband, Rooster.”

“She looks really happy. And that’s a nice ring. Did you pick it out yourself?” Bob FIoyd peered at the photo.

Hangman scoffed under his breath. “Please. Bradshaw probably let her pick it out. He’s too scared to get it wrong.”

Bradley groans, snatching the photo back from Jake’s hand. “I picked it and she loved it even if it’s not the actual wedding ring. So shut up.”

“Aw, listen to him. Defensive. Next thing you know he’ll be practicing vows in the mirror.”

“Don’t give him ideas. He’ll start rhyming about jet fuel and runway lights.” Hangman warned his fellow aviator making Bradley blushes, folding the flannel carefully, but the grin won’t leave his face.

“You know, Goose always said you’d fall for someone who could keep you on your toes. Looks like he was right. And now you’re marrying her.” Maverick’s voice entered the room, leaning in the doorway smirking at Rooster. The room quiets for a beat. Bradley swallows hard, clutching the photo. “Don’t screw it up, kid. She’s clearly the better half.”

“Finally, something we all agree on.” Hangman cheered with his fist in the air.

Phoenix nodded in agreement. “Cheers to Little Singer. May she keep Rooster from turning into a dad at Home Depot.”

“Should we send her something back? A squad autograph for the wedding guestbook?” Bob asked the group.

Hangman grabbed a napkin, writing something down. “Dear Little Singer, dump Bradshaw, call me. Signed, Hangman.”

“Jake, I swear—” Bradley attempted to say before Phoenix jumped in.

“I’m mailing it.”

Bradley faced palmed himself. “I hate all of you.”

“You love us. Almost as much as you love your fiancée.” Hangman smirked at him, knowing he was right.