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roosterforme · 19 days

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Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 2 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: The collection of letters that Bradley received from the fourth grade class provides him with entertainment while deployed. He takes the time to answer their questions and send a package back to the United States via air mail. But he has your email address. He also has a bit of a crush and some questions himself.

Warnings: Fluff, language

Length: 4100 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

A few days later, when Bradley was done with his training protocols for the day, he returned to his bunk with a different mission in mind. While he unzipped his flight suit, he eyed the box which was taking up most of his nightstand, and a smile found its way to his lips. He managed to find a notebook that nobody wanted along with a thick, padded envelope, and he was going to take the time to respond to the fourth graders who wrote to him.

He'd spent hours poring over the letters, laughing at some of the questions from the kids and frequently picking up that one photo. He couldn't stop going back for more. For another look at you. Just one more look. Okay, this really was the last one. He had to toss it across the small room toward his duffel so he could focus on something other than your smile and the fact that he might have a tiny crush on a fourth grade teacher who knew absolutely nothing about him. Yet.

The note from Jayden was on the top, and Bradley opened it up and started to jot down a response.

Jayden,

It was so nice to hear from you and the rest of your class. To answer your pertinent questions, I am currently stationed on the USS Theodore Roosevelt. The most disgusting food in the mess hall is easily the cabbage rolls (which taste nothing like cabbage... or rolls). The best food in the mess hall is surprisingly the meatloaf. And yes, I would love to see a photo of your Cocker Spaniel. Please send one next time. I hope you're studying and doing your best in school.

Lt Bradley Bradshaw

The next note he decided to tackle was the one from Violet who had the tiniest handwriting he'd ever seen. The page had at least fifteen questions written out, but he decided to answer just a few for her. He had to squint as he skimmed through them again.

Violet,

You seem very inquisitive. That's a great quality to have, especially if you want to be a pilot someday. No, I did not attend the Naval Academy. I went to the University of Virginia. Yes, the Navy is way better than the Air Force. Yes, I can hold my breath underwater for three minutes. Yes, they actually made me do it. No, I don't think I could make it as a Navy SEAL. Yes, I have been staying hydrated and getting enough sun, thanks so much for asking. Keep studying hard, because you have a lot of school ahead of you before officer training.

Lt Bradley Bradshaw

Okay, so this was actually a lot of fun. Up next was a response to the note from Oliver, which made Bradley laugh every time he looked at it.

Oliver,

Thank you so much for drawing the different Naval aircrafts for me. I hate to break it to you, but I actually do not fly the F-35 Lightning II. Yes, I know they look 'sickeningly cool'. Yes, I know it would be like 'slam dunking off the back of a dragon'. I guess I never knew I was jealous of those pilots until right now.... But I fly the equally cool if not quite as sickening looking F/A-18 Super Hornet. And yes, I would be more than happy to draw my own version of one for you. See below.

Lt. Bradley Bradshaw

The ten minutes he spent replicating his own aircraft to the best of his ability for Oliver churned out a pretty damn good result. He fished his phone out of the nightstand and took a picture to email to Nat when he had time, because she would find this whole thing amusing. Then he reached for the letters from Harrison, Nia and Jackie. He wrote his responses, and after a bit, he had a decent sized stack of letters all ready to go back to the fourth graders.

After a few more days, he worked his way through the entire class, and each kid would soon have a handwritten response on the way. He just needed to figure out what he wanted to say to you. The pretty teacher from the class photo that he now kept tucked in with his personal items. He worked on that one last, writing your full name at the top of the page and wishing you didn't go by the very non-specific Ms. which gave him zero clue as to whether or not you were married.

The package you sent was the nicest piece of deployment mail I have ever received. Thank you. I'm lucky it ended up in my hands. I'm impressed by how much all of your students have learned about aviation this year. I just hope I did them justice in regards to the questions they had for me.

I also hope you don't mind that I replied to each kid individually. They had some very amusing stories and questions, and I wanted to acknowledge all of them. But there was one question in particular that I was asked so many times, I thought I'd answer it here instead. My call sign is kind of a silly one, so it's okay if you all laugh. I go by Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, and my helmet is mostly red, yellow and black.

Your kids seem like a fun bunch, but I bet they keep you on your toes. Feel free to let them know they can write back to me again, but please include my name on the package this time. I don't know that I'd be lucky enough to have it fall into my hands again by chance. I'll just be here somewhere in the middle of the Pacific Ocean for a few more months, ready to answer any questions you throw at me. Hope to hear back from you soon.

Yours Truly,

Lt Bradley Bradshaw

The following day, he packed everything up and dropped it off with the rest of the ship's outgoing mail. There was a rumor that a helicopter would be coming to pick it up in the next day or two, and he wanted to make sure it got back to California and those fourth graders as soon as possible. On his way back to his bunk, Bradley stopped by the lounge to see if there was an iPad free, hoping to send a quick email or two. He was in luck. He also happened to have your email address memorized.

--------------------------

You yawned at your desk and checked the time on your computer. Within the next ten minutes, your classroom would go from silent solitude to mass chaos, so you took a minute to clear out your email inbox. You had a few messages from some parents and a reminder about Spirit Week from the superintendent. And a random piece of junk mail that must have slipped through the spam filters. You didn't know anyone with a US Navy email address, and you didn't know anyone named Bradley Bradshaw.

As you closed your laptop, you gasped and tried to pry it back open again as quickly as you could. The Navy! The package you sent a few weeks ago! Maybe it was someone writing back to your class! Of course it could just be someone saying they were sorry that they didn't have time to engage with your students, but you figured even that was better than nothing.

"Come on," you whispered, entering your credentials again before your inbox reappeared on your screen. The email was just a few lines long, but it was addressed to you by name. You were smiling immediately as you read it.

I just wanted to let you know that I got the mail you sent to a deployed Naval Aviator. There's a package on its way to your school for your class. It should arrive in about a week or two. Your fourth graders provided me with several hours of entertainment, and I hope they find my answers to their many (and amusing) questions useful. Thanks for the laughs, and thanks for the photos, too. Can't tell you how much I've been enjoying them. Hope to hear from all of you again.

Yours Truly,

Lt Bradley Bradshaw

You squealed and pumped your fists in the air. Someone actually got the box! And he actually responded! The other, older teachers thought you were just wasting your time when you deviated from the lesson plans a bit. Literally all of them said there was no way anyone would write back, even though you took the time to go through the proper channels at Top Gun on North Island. But now you could rub it in their faces, all thanks to Bradley Bradshaw who sounded like he'd had as much fun with this whole thing as your class had.

Then your day really started as Violet and Oliver burst into your classroom, calling out your name with excitement in their voices. The rest of your kids followed behind them, already asking about the plans for the day and what kind of adventure you'd be taking them on in each subject.

When you clapped your hands twice and said, "Good morning," they all clapped and replied with their own greeting, and then they sat quietly with their gazes fixed on you. "Guess who I just got an email from!"

"The president!"

"My grandma!"

"My Cocker Spaniel!"

"Oliver's grandma!"

You just shook your head and tried not to laugh as you said, "None of the above. But do you remember when we wrote and packed up those letters for a real aviator in the military to read?" Most of the kids nodded, so you added, "Well, he emailed us! And he sent us some mail that should arrive in about a week!"

And telling them that was a mistake. Because you didn't know a moment of peace after that. Every morning, you had kids rushing into the room to see if the promised piece of mail arrived yet. Every day you had to disappoint them, but you were finding yourself a little disappointed, too. You wanted to know what this Bradley Bradshaw guy sent back.

You'd responded to his initial email letting him know you and the kids in your class were delighted to hear from him and that you would let him know when the mail he sent arrived at your school. He didn't respond, but you figured he was busy. Too busy to constantly muck about with your class while he was thousands of miles away on a deployment.

And that was what left you standing at your desk with your mouth hanging open in awe when the padded envelope did finally arrive one morning. Because when you carefully cut it open, you found not just one letter to the class but individual handwritten notes, one for each child.

"Wow," you whispered, pulling the note with your name written on the top out of the stack. This man seemed humble and sweet, and his letter made you laugh in more than one spot as you read through it. Then you read it again. He sounded apologetic about responding to each individual kid, but you felt like your insides were melting. Who would do that? Who would take the time to give individual attention to a bunch of nine and ten year olds besides you? And you were technically getting paid to do it.

Bradley Bradshaw seemed willing to continue to engage with your kids, and you weren't going to stop him. Because starting that morning, he became something of a legend to your class. A celebrity. A real lieutenant in the Navy replied to all of their silly questions, and their love of aviation just grew from there. You figured you were going to have to keep your lesson plans going a bit longer while their faces lit up as you walked around the room and handed them each their notes. You had taken the time to skim them beforehand, often laughing at his sense of humor which seemed to jump off the pages.

"Can we write back to him?" Jayden asked as everyone read their notes from Lieutenant Bradshaw. "I have more questions."

You smiled and nodded. "Yes, you may write back to him." Then you postponed your geology lesson until the next day and let them spend the next forty minutes writing some followup letters. You took some pictures of them diligently toiling away at their desks, excitement on their faces. Then you bit your lip and sat down at your own desk.

As you started to construct an email letting him know the envelope had arrived, your thoughts drifted to what he might be like. Humble and sweet, for sure. But he also made it a point to tell you that the box from your class was the best piece of mail he'd ever received while deployed. Maybe he was a little bit lonely. Maybe he was single. Maybe he was stationed on the west coast. Your thoughts started to get ahead of you, and it was hard to reel them in when you imagined him excited to see another email from you. Smiling when he was handed another box from your class during mail call.

Dear Lt Bradley Bradshaw,

We got the envelope from you today, and my kids are absolutely thrilled! I'm not sure if you know how hard it can be to wrangle eighteen fourth graders all at one time, but they are currently sitting quietly and working on new letters for you to read. Once again, please don't feel obligated to continue correspondence if you're too busy. I'm sure you have other people you could be writing to who want your attention as well. I just wanted you to know they are overjoyed that a Naval officer took the time to answer their questions about aviation.

I have attached some photos as proof that they are sitting still. Thanks again for making their day.

You signed your name at the bottom the way you always would from your work email account, and then you attached the photos. After a brief debate about adding the selfie you took with Violet where most of your face was visible, you decided to just go for it. Adding it to the mix wouldn't hurt anything. It wasn't like this semi mystery man would be up all night thinking about you.

But you found that you were still thinking about him when you went home to your silent house and made dinner that evening. Maybe he was a little bit lonely, but maybe you were, too.

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It was amazing how infrequently Bradley found himself thinking about Vanessa. He was busier now with his duties picking up a bit more as his deployment wore on, but even when he was tired and in his bunk at night, his thoughts seldom settled on her like he was afraid they might. He didn't miss her or her half-hearted emails, and he wasn't craving the connection of reunion sex with her.

Instead, he was thinking about what a group of fourth graders were learning about this week and what their cute teacher was up to. It had been a few days since you emailed him, letting him know that his package was delivered to your school. You made it sound like the kids were excited that he sent it in the first place, and when he really thought about it, he supposed some officers would have just eaten the snacks and tossed the notes in the trash.

He didn't reply to the email yet, still thrown off a bit by the pictures you attached. Your classroom was vibrant, and the kids were absorbed as they worked on more notes for him to read whenever they happened to be delivered to the carrier. But the photo with you in it held his attention longer than it should have. The fact that you were working at a school that was just a handful of miles from his damn house made him feel warm.

But what would he do about it? What could he do about it? Nothing. He didn't want you to think he was creepy. He still knew essentially nothing else about you. The only thing he could do was keep it friendly if not professional. Unless of course you did something to push the boundaries of conversation into a more personal realm. God, if you did....he didn't think he would be able to handle it.

The next day, when he was heading out on deck to talk to the mechanics who were doing regular maintenance on the aircrafts, he took his phone. "Hey, you mind if I take a few photos of some of the engine parts? I want to send them to a class of fourth graders who will think it's cool."

"Go ahead, Lieutenant," the head mechanic replied. Then he smiled and asked, "You dating a teacher?"

Well. Wouldn't that be something? Bradley would never run out of curious pen pals. He would always have some fourth graders to take interesting photos for and to send notes to. He'd always have a classroom to visit as soon as he got home from a deployment.

He couldn't help but picture you as the teacher.

"Nothing like that," he replied, his voice a little gravelly. "Just writing to some kids who are learning about aviation."

After dinner, when he had a chance to use an iPad in the lounge, he did his best to put together a response to your email that would at least hint at the curiosity he felt.

If all it takes is mail from three thousand miles away to get your class to sit quietly, then I should probably be writing to you every day. But I'm sure you're a great teacher. That's a given considering how much your students learned and shared with me. And I can assure you that I'm more than happy to take the time to write to your class. And you. Please don't think I feel obligated, because I do not. I want to.

I have attached a few pictures of some F/A-18 engine components as well as some of my cockpit controls. Each photo is labeled, but please let me know if you have any questions.

It was nice hearing from you.

Yours Truly,

Lt Bradley Bradshaw

As soon as he hit send, he wanted to kick himself. Should he have included a photo of his face like you had twice now? Or did he already sound too desperate to hear from you and your class again?

"Shit," he muttered, looking around the lounge as if there was going to be someone here proficient in the art of getting to know a fourth grade teacher without sounding stupid. But it was too late now. All he could do was wait for the next mail call or hope you decided to write back to his ramblings by the next time he checked his email.

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You were going to have to scrape your jaw off the floor. You had no idea what this man's face even looked like, but his hands were... something else. And his thighs... well, they were pretty great, too. It must have been too long since you got laid, because you were sitting at your desk in your classroom staring at the set of photos in your inbox, currently unable to look away from his right hand. It was wrapped around the throttle of his aircraft. It was elegant with attractive veins and rough calluses. You were sure that you were supposed to be focusing on the cockpit controls, but all you could see was that hand and his thick, muscular thighs below.

The next photo was no better for you. He was holding up his helmet with his call sign Rooster emblazoned across the front, and you were able to see his left ring finger. There was no wedding band. There was no evidence of an outline where a wedding band would belong. There was just his big, strong hand.

You whimpered softly while your students worked on their math tests. You couldn't help it as you took one last look before logging out of your email account. And now you needed to know if his face matched the very attractive image you had in your mind.

When Jayden called your name, you rocketed to your feet like you'd been caught red handed. "Yes?" you squeaked, your voice sounding higher pitched than usual.

"I'm done with my test. May I have the hall pass and use the restroom?"

You handed it to him as the rest of your class finished working through the math problems. A few minutes later, when you collected the papers from them, Violet asked, "When is Lieutenant Bradshaw going to write back to us?"

It had only been a few days since you mailed him the second box of notes and some more snacks, but it made you happy that they were all so invested in learning more from him.

"It will probably be a few weeks before we get anything in the mail. However... he did email me some pictures of engine and cockpit parts from the aircraft carrier for me to share with you guys." When you looked around the room, the kids were on the edges of their seats, excited expressions on their faces. With a laugh you added, "I was going to wait until tomorrow and use the projector to show them all to you, but if you're very well behaved for the rest of the afternoon, maybe I could pull them up on my computer for you to see them today."

Not two hours later, you were just as excited as the kids were to look at the photos... again. As they crowded around your desk, you opened up the first one of the cockpit to a barrage of questions.

"Is that really his jet?"

"Is that the throttle?"

"What do all the buttons do?"

"Was this right before he flew it?"

Once again you were distracted, but you managed to click over to the next photo, and the kids gasped in delight.

"His helmet is so cool!"

"It says Rooster!"

"That's his call sign!"

"Red is my favorite color!"

You just smiled softly and laughed. "Should we go ahead and start working on another list of questions for him?" you asked as you slowly scrolled through the rest of the pictures. "He said we can write back to him as much as we want to." When everyone cheered, you handed Oliver a marker and pointed to the board at the front of the classroom. "Let's start making a list."

You listened to all of your students call out questions for Bradley while Oliver wrote them down. Then Violet asked, "Can he send us a picture of his whole jet? From the outside of it?"

You cleared your throat and added, "Maybe he could get someone else to take the picture so he could stand in front of it. For size comparison."

Violet nodded, but you knew you were a fraud. Sure, it would be great for the kids to understand just how massive the F/A-18s were compared to an actual person, but you were the one who wanted to see all of Bradley. You were itching for it now.

Later that night, you drank most of a bottle of wine and did something you promised yourself you'd never do. You logged into your work email account after nine o'clock. You skipped over the handful of unread emails from parents and clicked on the icon to compose a new message. With your liquid courage goading you on, you typed up a response to Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw and hit send before you could think twice.

Thank you for the photos. They were very enlightening. We especially liked the ones where you were showing off your cockpit. Or I did, anyway. The kids liked all of them and started on another list of questions for you. Good luck getting rid of us now.

We were wondering if you could have someone take a picture of you standing in front of your jet. For size comparison purposes. And also because my students would like to know what you look like. Hearing from you makes our day even better.

You couldn't believe how forward you were being with this man who you'd never even met in person, but you fell asleep thinking about his hands and what they might be capable of.

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This Bradley makes me swoon. I've never wanted to be a fourth grade teacher so badly in my life. There is something that's starting to blossom between them even though they haven't even met in person. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 3

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nolita-fairytale · 1 year

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call sign: tennessee whiskey | rooster x fem!reader & hangman x phoenix | chapter five

summary: to celebrate a job well done, the dagger squads skips the hard deck for the night and goes dancing.

warnings: fluff, enemies to lovers, swearing, mentions of death, military & aircraft carrier inaccuracies, second person pov

wc: 4.9k

listen to: un ratito - bad bunny | la bachata - manuel turizo |the playlist

a/n: this chapter was inspired by a night out i once spent salsa dancing in san diego, monica barbaro in 'at midnight', and that video of monica barbaro & greg tarzan davis dancing in the space cowboy suits that seems to now be deleted lol. if you're not familiar with bachata, 10/10 recommend checking this video out to get an idea of just how sensual of a dance it is. rooster x reader smut coming next!! who's ready to find out how she got her callsign?

chapter four | masterlist | chapter six

The USS Theodore Roosevelt docks mid morning, and everyone aboard is eager to sleep in a proper bed tonight. You’d take the XL Twin sized beds over sleeping on an aircraft carrier any day, especially if there’s a Rooster Bradshaw in one with you. You’ve been so preoccupied with Rooster post-mission, having stayed the entire night with him. You’d fallen asleep with him in the hospital bed and, despite protocol, the medics onboard didn’t have the heart to ask you to leave.

It’s not until you return to your sleeping quarters to pack up your things while everyone else is at breakfast that you come up for air. You’ve been totally wrapped up in your own world post-mission, that it’s almost time to offboard. After packing up your things, you meet Rooster, recently released from the carrier’s infirmary.

“You ready?” he asks, a smile on his face as soon as he sees you.

“I’m ready,” you agree, taking his hand in yours.

As the two of you walk down the ramp, the familiar faces and bright shine of the San Diego sun make you realize that you really have been in your own world with Rooster – one where only you and he exist. You spot Coyote walking down the ramp with Halo, but what you see next catches you off guard. It’s Hangman and Phoenix walking together in stride. You tug on Rooster’s arm, since you’re not too far behind them, signaling to him that you want to get closer.

They’re not arguing… they’re not killing each other.

They’re… civil. Nice, almost.

And was that a smile? Did Phoenix just… smile at something the blonde had said?!

“Oh my god!” you blurt out. The gasp escaping your lips causes both Hangman and Phoenix to turn around to look at you. The rest of the crew that are also in process of offboard walk around the four of you, shooting disgruntled looks as you block the walkway.

“Sorry,” Rooster mutters to a passerby, before motioning for the four of you to at least step to the side.

You look from Hangman to Phoenix, and suddenly, you can’t stop laughing.

An innocent bystander would have no idea, but you know the both of them like the back of your hand.

And it’s written all over their faces.

“Oh my god!” you repeat yourself, your voice higher pitched as your jaw practically drops onto the ramp. “You guys totally did it!”

Rooster snorts, thinking that this must be a joke. But when you continue laughing, when neither Hangman nor Phoenix fire back with some snarky remark or exclamation of denial, Rooster thinks you might be right.

“Wait, what?!” he exclaims, looking from you, then to Jake and Natasha. “Seriously?!”

“Whiskey,” Jake groans, shaking his head. He exchanges glances with Phoenix before continuing with, “I swear to God, she's like a truffle pig but for hookups.”

His smartass comment only confirms your suspicions, and Nat is turning bright red, unable to make eye contact with you right now. Rooster’s jaw practically drops as you squeal with delight, ready to brag about your special skill.

“It’s a talent,” you shrug, proudly. “That's how I knew all through the Naval Academy that Jake was a wh-.”

“Hoooooookay. You’re done Whiskey,” Jake cuts you off, practically dragging you away from Rooster’s grasp along with him so that he can give you a talkin’ to about what’s appropriate to say when.

Rooster laughs again, watching as you and Jake bicker like siblings, before turning his attention over to Phoenix.

“You wanna talk about it?” he asks, doubtful that she’ll say yes.

“Nope,” she answers, popping the ‘p’ sound at the end of the word.

“Fair enough,” Rooster accepts with a nod.

“What I do want to talk about…. is you two,” Nat redirects, nodding her head towards where you and Jake have moved to. “Don’t think I didn’t notice she never came back to her bunk last night.”

The way that Rooster smiles is all she needs to know, and she considers this a huge win, exchanging a look with her best friend.

“That good, huh?” she smirks, raising an eyebrow.

“No! We haven’t even-, you know,” Bradley blushes, suddenly shy.

“Damn. You really are ready to settle down, huh?” Nat responds, as she reads his expression.

Rooster nods, returning his attention back to you again. He watches you playfully punch Jake in the chest, causing him to double over.

“She’s great, Nat. She’s… I don’t know. She’s really fucking great,” he sighs, completely and totally infatuated with you.

By the time Rooster and Phoenix catch up with you and Jake, you and Jake have finished your conversation – one where you mostly congratulated him and told him that she was the best he’d ever get so he better not fuck up.

“Breakfast, anyone?” Nat asks, her eyes moving from you to Rooster.

“Not you,” she adds, by the time her eyes make it to Jake.

He rolls his eyes at her comment, but inside, he loves the fire she has within her.

“Uh… yeah. Give me a second?” you request, shooting Rooster a look.

“Yeah, we’ll give you guys a second,” Nat says, practically tugging Jake along with her.

You watch as they go, a few strides ahead of you and Rooster so you can talk.

“So… that’s kind of wild,” Rooster mentions, in reference to Nat and Jake.

“Yes and also sort of… not surprising?” you suggest, earning a quizzical look from Rooster.

Instead of continuing the conversation about Nat and Jake, you’d much rather talk about what could happen when you get back to the barracks. You take a beat, ready to shift the conversation.

“You wanna get out here? I could… tell Nat no. Skip breakfast…. We could catch up to Hangman and Phoenix… considering they beat us to the punch?” you propose, raising an eyebrow.

Normally, you’d never cancel on a friend for a guy, but after two weeks and a near-deadly mission, the sexual tension between the two of you is palpable.

“As tempting as that offer sounds, I gotta go to the medical center on base for a second check up. Make sure I get a clean bill of health on land too,” Rooster replies, unable to hide how disappointed he is that he has to do this first.

“Ugh, leave it to me to get cockblocked by the US Navy… again,” you groan, eliciting a laugh from Rooster. “You want me to go with you?

“No it’s okay. Go to breakfast with Nat,” he says, nodding his head towards her and Jake.

You smirk, “You just want the hot gossip don’t you, Badshaw?”

“Fuck yeah. And you better send me live updates,” he begs, earning a laugh from you too.

You reach out, placing a gentle kiss on his lips, before Rooster’s wrapping an arm around your shoulders and you’re heading back to the barracks. Nat’s already got a place picked out that she texts you with a message suggesting you invite Halo too. After changing into your civvies, you and Nat decide to head out together to the beachside diner only a few blocks from the Hard Deck.

Hangman: So I make you cum twice and still don’t get invited to breakfast? What’s a guy gotta do?

Phoenix: Try for three next time and I might consider extending the invitation.

Hangman: So you're saying there’s a next time? ;)

Natasha rolls her eyes at the last text, putting her phone away as the waitress approaches your table with the drip coffees you’ve just ordered. You both mutter a quick, polite thank you before taking them, fixing your coffee just the way you like it.

“Halo didn’t want to come?” Nat asks, curiously.

“Said she’s FaceTiming with her girlfriend but will join us in a little bit when she’s done,” you answer. “But it’s good because it gives us time to catch up! You can’t keep me waiting like this and don’t even think you’re getting away with not telling me everything.”

“Everything?” she asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Okay, maybe not… everything,” you reply with a chuckle. “But enough is enough! Spill, bitch. What the hell happened between you and Hangman on that carrier?!”

She sighs, “I-, I have no fucking idea.” Taking a drink from her coffee mug, she leans back, cradling the hot cup of coffee in her hands as she racks her brain for any kind of explanation. “Maybe it was the high of the mission… or something… but we were both looking for you… and then we ran into each other. And… I don’t know. I was going to take a shower and he wouldn’t move out of my way… and then one thing led to another and suddenly we’re fucking in on the bathroom sink!”

“Oh my god!” you squeal, covering your mouth with your hand as you do.

“I mean… it’s Hangman. I-, I think it was just a heat of the moment thing. Nothing serious,” she says, brushing it off as if there’s no possible way it could be anything more than that.

“So… just a one time thing?” you ask, eyeing her curiously. You’re trying your best to get a read on her, but you’re not sure if she even knows how she feels about it.

“Well. Technically a two time thing if you count the shower after,” she smirks, taking another sip of her coffee.

“Natasha!” you gasp, a devilish smile on her face.

“So… do you think it’s going to happen again? Do you want it to happen again?” you gush, excitedly.

“I-,” she starts, before letting out a big sigh. “I don’t know.” You watch as she places her coffee mug down on the table, her eyes fixed to the ceramic mug. “Does that make sense?”

“Definitely,” you empathize with her, considering you’d probably find yourself confused in that situation too. “It’s Jake. I-. Definitely.”

“Let’s go dancing tonight,” she changes the subject, not wanting to talk more about Hagman. “What was that place we went to last time we’re in San Diego? Tango Del Rey? I know Rooster’s dying to see how you move.”

“Oh my god,” you groan with a playful eye roll.

“But yes!” you agree. “Dancing sounds great. See if the rest of the Dagger Squad want to come with. Maybe end the night at the Hard Deck?”

“Yeah,” Natasha replies.

“Hi! Sorry I’m late,” Callie interrupts, as soon as she enters the diner in search of both you and Nat. “Unlike the two of you, I have a civilian partner that doesn’t understand half of what we do, and just needs to hear that I’m okay at the end of every mission.

“The two of us?” Nat asks, thrown by what Halo has said.

“Yeah, because you and Hangman are together, right?” she asks Phoenix, and you almost spit out your coffee.

There’s such a genuine innocence in how she asks the question that you know she’s not trying to fuck with either of you.

Nat’s face blushes a few shades darker while you try your best to get your coffee down without any of it coming out of your nose. You wait for your fit of laughter to pass before swallowing, giving you the freedom to now laugh out loud.

“What? Did I say something wrong?” Halo asks looking from you to Nat, then back to you again.

“No, Halo. No, you said everything right,” you manage to get out, as your laughter continues to grow.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to assume. I just thought you guys were together. I mean… he stayed with you overnight in the hospital after the bird strike and he’s so clearly into you,” she apologizes, explaining why she had come to the conclusion in the first place.

Nat is glaring at you as you continue to laugh, like she hates the fact that you’re not the only one who sees this thing between the two of them.

“Callie, you have nothing to apologize for,” you reassure her. You shoot Nat a glance, knowing that you’re stirring the pot as you continue with, “And you’d only have been wrong if you’d said something twenty four hours ago.”

“Whiskey!” Phoenix exclaims, shooting daggers at you for airing her dirty laundry.

You snicker, on a power trip from the sweet, sweet feeling of being right.

Natasha shakes her head, eager to change the subject. She stops paying attention to you, putting all of her attention on Halo as she says:

“Hey, Callie. What do you think about going dancing tonight? Think the Dagger Squad would be up for it?” she proposes, signifying that she’s done with this conversation about her and Jake.

“I love dancing! Sounds like a great way to celebrate,” Callie agrees, eagerly.

As the waitress comes back around, the three of you order stacks of pancakes and plates of eggs, potatoes, and bacon, decompressing in the beachside diner. It’s nice to take a breath, now that the mission is over – now that you have a whole week off, due to the mission being moved up. It’s not till the end of breakfast that you realize your heart and your belly are both now full.

Your phone buzzes, signaling that you have a new text, unable to hide the smile on your face as you realize it’s from Rooster.

“Uh oh. I know that look,” Nat teases, instantly knowing who it’s from. Halo’s eyes light up, catching on as well.

“Ask him if he wants to go dancing!” Halo encourages, as you open up your phone to read the texts.

Rooster: Looks like we got the greenlight.

You: For all activities? ;)

Bradley: Yes ma’am. Anything in particular you have in mind?

You: How does dancing sound?

Bradley: … Dancing?

And that’s how Rooster Bradshaw ends up here, spinning someone’s abuela in a circle as the salsa band plays on. While most of the other aviators have found a dance partner in each other, or another attendee at the club, Bradley has, of course, found himself taken under the wings a group of older ladies made up of abuelas and tias who are teaching him how to salsa properly.

You giggle, unable to take your eyes off of him, even though you’re technically dancing with Jake. You find it incredibly endearing that he’s managed to find himself adopted by the regulars – all of which continue to make comments like que guapo about him, his mustache and his printed shirts.

Rooster’s eyes meet yours from across the room, practically beaming in your direction as the ladies cheer him on for mastering the three step dance. You smile back, grinning ear to ear.

You cannot wait to get him alone tonight, but salsa is a social dance, so the stolen glances, the smiles from across the room, and all the sexy build up will have to do for now.

Jake picks up on the fact that your attention is elsewhere, and he wouldn’t be himself if he didn’t have something smart to say about it.

“You’re not even paying attention to me,” Jake complains, twirling you around the dance floor as best as he can.

“Awwww… who knew you were such a softie, Hangman?” you tease him, followed by a loud “ow!” when Jake steps on your feet… again.

“Well, that’s what you get, kid,” he fires back, grumpily.

“I’m trying to help you here, Seresin! But you’re not letting me,” you point out, an annoyed tone in your voice as you try to teach him the steps. “If you’d learn to follow for once, damn it!”

“I’m just saying… think these guys need to come down to Texas… we can show ‘em how it’s really done,” Jake grumbles, as you try to coach him into being better at this.

“Hate to break it to you, bud, but two steppin’ isn’t nearly as sexy as salsa,” you point out. “And you can’t always just do things you’re good at, y’know?”

“Who says?” Jake asks, playfully.

“Oh my god,” you groan, rolling your eyes at your best friend’s comment.

Jake steals a glance in Nat’s direction. He knows you’re only trying to help – only trying to give him a little bit of a head start considering Natasha seems to be a pro at this. You know enough to get by, but Nat grew up competitive ballroom dancing, and she’s practically dancing circles around every single person in the dancehall. Turns out, Coyote is an incredible salsa dancer as well, the two of them taking the dance floor by storm like they’re a part of the competition team. They glide, spin, and shake their hips to the music in ways that you can’t even imagine, captivating anyone and everyone that watches.

At the end of each song, Coyote and Phoenix have switched partners, sometimes dancing together for a few more songs, and other times sharing their gifts with other people here on the dance floor. It’s usually how it goes at these kinds of things.

The song ends and Jake releases you. You can see that the band has finished their set, switching over to a DJ. Of course, in a place like this, the transitions are smooth, going right from the band to the stereo system seamlessly. You’re practically shoving Jake in Nat’s direction, partnering up with Fanboy before Jake can chicken out. He stands behind her, watching her thank her last dance partner, a man who seems to be on the competition team here at Tango Del Rey.

Natasha Trace wears a white floral dress, with a long slit up the front, exposing her long legs – the ones he had his mouth on just yesterday. Her hair, softly curled, falls just above her shoulders, and her hair is parted, pinned back on only one side makes her look like an old Hollywood movie star.

“Phoenix. What do you say we have that dance now?” Jake drawls, his voice causing her to turn around.

“I should warn you,” she parrots, mimicking his language on the carrier as she takes a few steps forward in her heels. “I'm an incredible dancer.”

“I’ve noticed,” he replies, the corner of his lips curling into a crooked smile.

“You think you’re ready for me, Bagman?” she challenges, holding her hand out to him.

“Only one way to find out,” he smirks, grabbing her hand and pulling her in close.

As the song begins, the DJ set starting off strong with a Bad Bunny hit, Nat finds herself surprised that Jake does pretty well for himself, leading her in the three step salsa. The way his hands feel against her feel like they’re burning her skin in the most delicious of ways. She feels him lift their conjoined hands so that he can spin her around, smiling as he does. She knows this one – listens to the lyrics as they move together, taking note of how appropriate the feel:

“It's just for a little while / Mami, don't get used to it / Because love can be so beautiful / But there's always somеthing that interrupts it.”

Because what the hell were they doing anyways? And how could Hangman of all people make her feel this way? And there was no possible way that this wasn’t just temporary. Was she even willing to take the risk on him?

Instead of saying something, overthinking it, fucking this up before it could even begin, Nat decides that tonight, she’ll just dance with him.

Across the room, as the song ends, you thank Fanboy (also an incredible dancer), before going to find Bradley. You can’t hide the grin on your face as you see him thanking the ladies that seem to have taken him under their wing.

“Ladies, I hope you don’t mind,” you begin, nodding towards Bradley.

“Are you the girlfriend? La novia? He’s been talking about you all night,” one of the women exclaims, gleefully.

“Not yet, Daniela. But I’m working on it,” Bradley replies, following his words up with a playful, ‘shhh!’

You giggle, “You wanna dance, Bradshaw?”

You offer out your hand, and he takes it, earning cheers and smiles from Bradley’s new friends. You can’t take your eyes off of his chocolate brown ones as you lead him across the dance floor. You feel one of Bradley’s hands slide against your low back, pulling you in closer to him as you begin to move to the music.

“Looks like you made some new friends,” you say, batting your eyes at him.

“And you’re gonna thank me later because I learned a lot,” he replies, earning a flirtatious giggle from you.

“This your thing? You make new friends everywhere you go?” you continue to banter with him.

“Guilty,” he admits, a light blush running across his cheeks. “The supermarket. The gas station…”

“Oh God, I bet you were popular in high school too,” you groan, jokingly.

As he spins you around, taking you into his arms, you’re all smiles. You move your hips in perfect time with his. You can feel your heart pounding in your chest with every step – and it’s not the few beers you’ve already had. You’ve been waiting for this moment all night – not that dancing with the rest of the aviators hasn’t been fun – but you have to admit that Bradley Bradshaw makes your heart flutter.

After a few songs spent in Bradley’s arms, he slows you down, leaning close, his lips just grazing the top of your ear lobe. You can feel both of his large hands on the small of your back, pulling you into him a little closer.

“I know we just got started here but… what do you say we get out of here?” he whispers in your ear, the raspiness of his voice sending chills down your spine.

“What’d you have in mind?” you ask, unable to find the smile that spreads across your lips.

“Maybe… one more drink at the Hard Deck… then how about we go back to my room?”

“Please,” you practically beg him, nodding along as encouragement. .

And in that moment, you don’t care that everyone is watching, that you and Bradley have yet to begin, you kiss him right then and there in the middle of the dance floor. Your passionate lip lock earns a few looks from other dancers, and you can hear a few of the other aviators point it out with a few whoops, hollers, and catcalls in response. As you pull away from the kiss, his face still cradled in your hands, you ask him:

“Cool if I go find Jake and Nat? Say goodbye?”

“Totally. But I’d be careful if I were you. They were practically fucking on the dance floor a minute ago,” he replies with a groan.

“Gross,” you scoff, even though you could care less.

But you don’t find Jake with Nat, spotting her on the dance floor doing all kinds of tricks with Coyote again. You wonder where Jake went, pushing through a crowd of people before you spot him upstairs. You hurry up the flight of stairs that leads to the balcony, finding him perched there, leaning up against the railing and nursing a Lonestar.

“Hey! Rooster said you and Nat were practically fucking on the dance floor. Anything I should know?” you comment, as you approach the blonde.

He smirks, taking another drink of his tallboy.

“So you and Rooster, huh?” Jake asks back so that he doesn’t have to answer your question.

And because, of course his best friend would fall for fuckin’ Bradshaw.

“Yeah, me and Rooster,” you answer, truthfully, sliding into the space next to him. “We’re actually going to head out. That’s why I was looking for you. Didn’t want to go without saying goodbye.”

Jake searches your face. There’s nothing but genuine admiration and honesty, and it’s given you a glow. He can see how happy you are, and he’s not going to rain on your parade just because he and the guy have some kind of unspoken rivalry. Playfully, he bumps his shoulder against you, earning a giggle from you. You return the shoulder bump before returning to your previous question.

You watch Jake, following his gaze out over the dancehall. Nat’s finally taken a break, crowded around the bar as Bob tells some wild story to her, Fanboy, and Payback. It’s so freaking obvious that it’s painful: he can’t take his eyes off of Natasha Trace.

“You should tell her how you feel,” you chime in, bumping his shoulder with yours again

Jake shoots you a glance from the side – the kind that says, ‘what the hell are you talking about?’

“You forget that I’ve known you since you were twenty, Seresin. And I've spent the last two weeks watching you pine after her,” you point out.

“I do not pine!” he protests.

“Yes you do!” you push back.

He waits a few beats, thinking it over, weighing his options.

“What if… she’s not into it?” he finally asks, dragging out each word like they’re heavy on his lips.

“Why don’t you go find out?” you encourage. You give his shoulder a friendly squeeze before turning to go.

“Be safe, kid!” Jake calls after you.

“Thanks, Dad,” you scowl, your feet hitting the top of the stairs as you do.

Jake enjoys the view and his beer on the balcony for a little longer, taking a few moments to himself. The DJ set is about halfway through, and he notices that the aviators, previously crowded around the bar, seem to have returned to the dance floor.

It’s now or never, Seresin, he thinks to himself.

He’s practically working himself up as his feet carry himself down the stairs and back onto the dance floor. He’s surprised to find Phoenix without a partner, just moving to the music as the song playing ends. He watches as her face changes, her lips curling into a smile as the new song begins. She throws her head back with a laugh, her eyes settling on Jake as he stands there in front of her.

“This one’s not a salsa. Think you can keep up, Bagman?” she asks, holding her hand out, beckoning for him to join her.

“Can’t be that difficult,” he says, looking around the room.

“It won’t be. As long as you let me lead,” she fires back.

“Ha!” he lets out an arrogant laugh, as he takes her hand.

“You let me lead, and I’ll make you look really good,” she replies, almost as if it’s a challenge.

“Deal,” Jake agrees.

“So it’s kinda like salsa: three steps left, then three right,” she coaches him, lowering her voice so that she’s practically purring in his ear. Nat wraps an arm around his waist, pulling him close into her. The edges of their faces are pressed together, and Jake mimicks her, sliding an arm around her waist too.

“Only bachata…” she says, beginning to walk in a circle. She steps forward, so that they’re practically chest to chest, keeping the rhythm with her feet as she adjusts their positioning. “... is danced from here.”

Jake gulps, realizing that she’s practically straddling one of his legs, her forehead now pressed against his. He lets her lead, watching as she moves around him from this fucking close: a sway of her hips in perfect time, a circle with her shoulders till she’s body rolling against the front of him, and then they’re taking three steps right, and three steps left.

“Jeez, Tash…” he groans, earning a wicked smile from her.

He’s not sure where that came from. He’s never called her that before. But then again, they’d never let the tension between them go this far.

There’s no way this is actually the dance. She’s totally fucking with me. Testing my patience, right? Jake thinks to himself, feeling his pants becoming a little bit tighter as she moves against him.

But Jake looks around the room, shocked to see everyone on the dance floor moving this sensually too. Hell, she’s practically riding his thigh in front of everyone and he’s just letting her.

“The hell’d you learn how to dance like this?” he asks, biting back a moan.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” she smirks cockily.

She holds up an arm for him to spin, creating distance so they both can. When she returns to Jake, this time, she presses her back against him, swaying her hips against his in perfect time.

It’s pure fucking torture.

“I-, I would,” he mumbles into her ear, ever sarcastic bone in his body giving way to the growing erection he’s got in his pants.

She chuckles, spinning herself out, then back into his arms in their original position.

“That’s not the question you should be asking, Bagman,” she says, glancing down at his zipper.

He’s trying his best to focus on the steps – and not stepping on her feet – but his concentration is getting incredibly blurry with how she’s moving against him. With how close she is. With how fucking hot he finds this. As they move, three steps right, three steps left, his hands begin traveling lower, pressing her against him from her low back, from the top of her ass, and Natasha Trace knows exactly what she’s doing.

“Fuck,” Jake groans, feeling as she rolls against him, the song beginning to end. He’s frozen in a moment in time and he can’t let go of her – not yet.

“Can I take you home?” he finally asks.

“I thought you’d never ask,” she replies, dragging her arm across his chest as she begins to walk in a circle behind him. Once she reaches his back, she pulls him in close, leaning in to whisper:

“Meet me in the car in five.”

read: chapter six

a/n: someone has to say it. halo is the hero of this chapter with her line: you and hangman are together right? now who's ready for some rooster smut!?

taglist: @not-two-shrimp @wishfulwithwine @hangmanscoming @thefourrealms@hlkwrites @dlea203 @translatemunson @starlightstories @genius2050

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