A Stomach Bug for the History Books (A bit gross):
Summary: You have a really bad stomach bug while Elvis has to play a show. You end up getting worse halfway through so Elvis storms off, fights with the Colonel to take care of you because that's what he does.
"Daddy.... don't go." You're currently laying on a uncomfortable couch in the green room of the International hotel, grasping Elvis's hand for dear life as you try to fight off the nausea rolling around in your gut. Elvis had tried to call and cancel, he really did saying that you didn't feel well. That was an understatement; you were miserable. And Elvis hoped that the Colonel could see the pain all over your face. Elvis crouched down by your face and cupped your cheek in his hand, noticing how hot you were getting. "I'm sorry baby, I know you don't feel good. But daddy has to, my love. You got Jerry here to watch over ya though. You tell him anything you need and he'll get it for ya."
You sit up then and Elvis internally jumps, thinking you're just about to projectile vomit all over him but instead you snivel and open your arms for one of Elvis's signature bear hugs that you love so much. "Alright baby girl, try to sleep, daddy loves you so-oo-oo-oo much." He drags out the so as long as he can, procrastinating going on stage as much as possible. Elvis lingers at the door and he watches as you snuggle down into your blankets and dutifully close your eyes, trying so hard not to feel how yucky you're feeling.
You made it almost halfway through the show before you got even worse, your low fever had spiked so you were sweating feeling like a fireball was traveling all over your little body and you were hovering over the trashcan, adjusting uncomfortably every few minutes, waiting for the inevitable as Jerry rubbed your back telling you daddy would be there soon but that just made you cry even more.
"I want daddy!" You scream right before you finally gag enough to start vomiting. "I know, sweetheart. Daddy's coming I promise." Jerry eyes Lamar, silently asking if Elvis has been notified because they can't hold off not telling him for much longer. Even if the Colonel says so, if Elvis finds out it'll be hell to pay. Lamar just silently nods, yes the boss knows. Thank god.
Back at the curtain to the side stage, Charlie waves his arms frantically trying to get the King's attention. Elvis, already having a hint of an idea what this is about quickly walks over still singing all the while till the backtrack kicks in and the band makes up some riffs to satisfy the audience while he's needed.
"Is she okay? What's up?" Elvis asks, his heart picking up speed just thinking about how sick you already were. "She's gotten worse. She has a high fever and she's puking her guts up. Jerry's with her but she needs you. Needs her daddy." Elvis nods. "Talk to the Colonel." Charlie goes to talk to the colonel to try and cancel the rest of the show and figure out what to tell the audience while Elvis sprints toward the greenroom that you had laid down in but the Colonel beats him to it, blocking the door.
"No, no, no, you boy are getting back on that stage tonight! You need to finish this show, these nice people paid so much money, you owe them a good time, you hear me?!" Elvis bumped the old man with his chest, sending him against the door, gripping the collar of his shirt in his fist as he got right in his face. "You listen to me. Tonight I'm not money bags. Tonight I am a caregiver and my baby is sick." Just as Elvis said that, him and the Colonel could hear you getting violently sick on the other side of the door.
"You hear that? She's sick and she needs me so I don't care what you gotta do. I don't care how much money we're out, but I refuse to go out on that stage anymore tonight you son of a bitch now I suggest you get the fuck out of my way." The colonel eyed his client icily. "You're making a mistake talking to me like that, boy." Elvis stared at the ceiling, trying to reign in his anger because the last thing you need is to hear him yelling so close yet so far from you. "You son of a bitch, you know I don't need you. I don't want you and I don't need you. She needs me so unless you want me to throw you on your ass, I suggest you Get. Out. Of. My. Way." The Colonel smirked like the bastard he is and slowly stepped aside.
Elvis barged into the room to see Jerry barely holding things together. You had ceased vomiting for a minute and you were curled up in Jerry's lap sobbing and screaming for your daddy. "I want my daddy! Where's daddy!" Elvis slowly walked up to you so as not to startle you even more. "Daddy's right here baby, I'm right here. Let's go home huh? Let's get your icky butt home? You nodded, basically collapsing into his arms as soon as you see him.
"Please don't puke on me," You hear Elvis whisper as he looks around the room, trying not to move too fast, so as not to jostle you and cause you to get too dizzy. "Hey, Jer, can you grab her bag please?" He nods. "Let's go home, bug." Jerry murmurs to you as the three of you run to the the car that'll bring you home.
"Alright sweet girl. Just tap me if you feel icky again okay?" Elvis says as he holds you tighter against his chest as you clenched your eyes shut against his shoulder as he took you upstairs to your en-suite bathroom, stripping your sweat soaked clothes off and setting your tiny aching body on the closed toilet seat as he started the water for a bath. After a particularly bad cramp, you nearly doubled over in your spot, whimpering, "Daddy." Panicking, Elvis nearly launched himself at you, cupping his hand under your chin thinking you were going to vomit. You just groaned shaking your head no, you just wanted your daddy's comfort. And you wanted to regulate your damn temperature again.
"Oh sweets I'm so sorry. We'll get you some medicine for your tummy soon okay? But first we need to cool your fever down." Elvis turned off the faucet and gently put you in the tub, where you screeched at the coolness of the water. "I know, I know. Just a few minutes until you can get out though okay."
The intense stomach cramp returned and this time you lost control of it, causing you to scream and starting to sob again. "What? What baby? What is it?" Elvis asked, concern written all of his face because there was no reason you should be screaming. He didn't put two and two together until he noticed the water gets murky beneath you. "Oh sweetie," He cooed, lifting you up and draining the tub with his other hand. "It's okay, it can be fixed. Your tummy really doesn't feel good does it?" You pressed your face into Elvis shoulder, seeking comfort for your embarrassment. "It's okay baby, I promise, see all better." Elvis cleaned out the bottom of the tub and quickly finished washing you off, figuring you'd feel better once you were in bed with E.
He quickly chooses a loose set of pajamas, easy to take off in case you get sick again or too hot during the night and dresses you in it before returning to the bathroom to get you some medicine to help your very upset stomach. You start fussing at it even though you don't want to puke anymore.
"Please baby? If you take this, it'll help you feel so much better, hm? It'll only taste icky for a second. C'mon baby please." You shook your head and sealed your lips shut. "Mm-mm." Elvis sighed. "Okay, how about this, you take the medicine and I'll take you to get a new stuffy and a new movie once you're all better, huh?" You smiled and opened your mouth as wide as you could, liking the compromise. Elvis smiled. "Good girl!" After he gave you a glass of water to wash the taste out of your mouth, he gave you a big high five. "Proud of you little." You just tiredly placed your head on his shoulder. "Oh baby... let's go get you to bed, hmm?" You couldn't object to that.
You sat in Elvis's big bed as you watched him prepare for a night full of tears and puke. He lined the floor of your side of the bed with old towels, put a pasta pot on the nightstand table for you to grab and had an extra pile of bedding on two of the chairs in the massive master bedroom. Elvis sat next to you and took an extra bowl in his lap to teach you how to aim your puke into the bowl. "Okay ready, if you feel like you're gonna puke you lean over and you go blugh, nope don't tilt, keep it steady go bluehg," You giggled, copying the funny noise he made. "I go bleugh! " "Don't move it baby, keep it right in your lap, go bleugh," He smiled once you finally copied him but didn't tilt the bowl so it would spill all over you.
"Good job sweet girl. Good girl." Elvis laid down, curled around you. "How does your tummy feel now, sweet girl?" You took a minute feeling it out. "Icky but not bluegh icky." Elvis and you chuckled at the puke noise and he blew a raspberry into your nap, happy that he could hear your giggle again.
"Okay sickie, promise to wake me if you need me?" You nod. "I love you daddy." You said as you drifted off to sleep, your body exhausted from fighting off this sickness.
Wooooooo!! I think this one was super good! I hope you enjoyed! <3 see you soon @mooodyblue @plasticfantasticl0ver @ellie-24
