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ASG - Part Four: All Shook Up

Character/Fandom: Elvis - ELVIS (2022)

Requested: yes! - anons

Prompt: When Gladys Presley invited Bird up to Graceland to work as a cook in the house, she had mixed feelings. But in order to support herself and her daddy, she moved up to Memphis anyway. Things have been awkward between her and Elvis, but strange things are happening every day and, not surprisingly, Elvis has her all shook up again. [ Fem!OC ]

TW: Angst, smut, cursing, a little physical aggressiveness + i think that's it!

Rating: M, this is good stuff baby || Word Count: 16,293 🥴

A/N: IT’S FINALLY HERE!! I have never worked harder on a fic tbh, and the dialogue in this one hits so hard. Yes, the one part is inspired by that scene in Dirty Dancing — you know the one. Sorry for taking FOREVER, but I really hope y'all enjoy it!

This is Part 4 of ASG. FInd the rest of the series here!

🦋 mila

This is a BIG boi + it’s special, so pls read these notes:

This is super long, so I put little PAGE BREAKS in places where you can pause reading. Please take advantage of them!

If you want the true experience, I've written in song suggestions to play while you read. This is obvi totally optional!!!

─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

“I jus don’t know what to do bout it,” Gladys says, running a hand over her face. “They’re makin fun of my baby all over town. And probably all over the country, too.”

“I’m really sorry, Mrs. Presley,” Bird responds, taking a bowl of something warm from her fingers. “I can always go back home if this is a bad time.”

“Oh, don’t be silly, honey,” she replies in her thick southern drawl. “We love havin you over. You don’t know how nice it is to have another woman in this damn house.”

Bird smiles painfully as she watches Gladys reach for a beer.

A lot has happened since Elvis had broken Bird's heart and left her sobbing on the floor of her house in Louisiana. It was almost five months later when she received a call from Gladys Presley. She had been shocked to hear a familiar voice on the other end of the line. She’d called to ask if Bird wanted to come up to Memphis and move in with the family. One of their cooks had quit and Gladys couldn’t find anyone who cooked southern-style food the way she liked it. Bird knows she'd taken quite a liking to her. Whenever Elvis had brought her home for dinner, just a handful of times, Bird was always willing to help.

Anyway, she did always have a knack for cooking, especially those delicious southern-style comfort dishes. She had originally refused, but when Gladys called twice more and offered to pay Bird handsomely, it wasn’t really a conversation anymore. She and daddy were struggling after he turned to alcohol for comfort and wasn't working as much as usual. Bird had picked up an extra job at the diner in town while still working at the hayride. She'd been working herself to death, but with the Presley’s money she can help support herself and her father without having to break her back.

Plus, she’d offered.

Bird is always incredibly nervous about seeing Elvis, especially after everything that has happened. But she didn't know what else to do. It was too good of a deal for her. So, she'd packed up some of her belongings and moved up to Memphis, leaving daddy at home by himself.

Mr. and Mrs. Peachtree, the Presley’s neighbors, welcomed her into a small guest house in their backyard. Gladys had offered for her to stay at Graceland, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to bear it. Being so close to him and not being able to have him. It was all too painful, too regretful. And she knew Elvis wouldn’t want her there, anyway.

It really hasn’t been all that bad. The money is good, the amenities are nice, Mr. and Mrs. Peachtree are always warm and welcoming toward her. Gladys has been surprisingly like a surrogate mother in many ways. She’s been protective over her, frequently asking how Bird's getting on at the house and whether the Peachtrees are treating her right. She's even asked how bird's father is a time or two, even though Bird get the feeling Gladys doesn’t like him much. You can’t blame her. She’d even let Bird have a few sips of beer, despite the fact that she was still underage. That’s something her father would never allow her to do, even if you were of legal age.

“I just hope he’s doin aright,” Gladys continues. “That damn Colonel is always tellin him what to do.”

Bird keeps her mouth shut but raises her eyebrows in agreeance. Despite sympathizing with her, Bird doesn't feel like it’s her place to say anything about the family. Not to mention this entire conversation is still a sore spot since she's convinced that the Colonel is the reason for her breakup with Elvis.

“Oh lord they’re home! My poor baby!” Gladys shouts, glancing out the windows.

Speak of the devil, himself. Bird joins Gladys at the window, watching the familiar dark purple 1956 Cadillac Eldorado drive slowly up the path to the house. There has been a crowd outside for hours now, and the noise is driving her crazy.

The dinner isn’t even finished cooking yet, but Elvis and Mr. Presley would be bursting through the front door any minute now. They’re coming back from New York where Elvis had been on the Steve Allen show. Long story short, the performance was a disaster. He’d been put onstage in full-length tailcoats and forced to sing to a hound dog. An actual hound dog.

Bird watched at home with the Peachtrees, squeezing a pillow tightly. She'd felt especially awkward in recent days. She likes the Peachtrees very much, but they are made of old money and she knows they have mixed feelings about the Presleys. Mrs. Peachtree has been adamant that Elvis isn’t the type of boy young girls should be looking up to. And she used his “Hound Dog” performance as ammunition to prove her point. Bird bites her tongue whenever the Peachtrees begin to badmouth him. And she pretends not to know about all of the rude things the other neighbors whisper about the Presleys behind their backs.

Just as the car parks, Bird quietly dips back into the kitchen to help Alberta, the other cook, with the rest of the food. But mostly to avoid Elvis. She does that a lot nowadays, avoiding, and she doesn't even want to think about the first time he’d discovered her at the house. Apparently, Gladys had neglected to tell her son that his ex-sweetheart would be coming up to work in the house.

She winces just thinking about how all the blood drained from his face, how he’d dropped his guitar out of shock. How the force of its fall had broken the guitar's neck. She hadn’t meant for him to see her. Ever, actually. It's her preference, truthfully, to never be seen by him again. But he’d walked in the door as she was rushing to get the plates out for dinner on time. And then it just happened. They both saw each other and everything was over, the whole facade. And she'd only been there for three days.

After that first awkward encounter, things actually improved between them. They still can’t talk or look at each other, but they're able to be in the same room without feeling sick to their stomachs. That sounds like nothing to celebrate but it's kind of a big accomplishment for both of them. Gladys is a big reason why they've started to come around to each other again. She wants them both to be friends, at least. It’s also easier with Elvis touring more often now since he’s gone so much. In the last month, Bird's barely even seen him at all.

But something in her stomach drops as she hears the door open and some scuffling and low talking. She suddenly feels extremely embarrassed to be present in the house and is afraid to reveal herself, especially if he’s already in a bad mood. She busies herself doing something that doesn’t really need to be done. Anything to keep her from having to go out there and deal with family issues.

Alberta hands Bird some dishes. She would protest, but Alberta knows she isn't doing anything but avoiding Elvis. And the cook is actually busy, so Bird takes the plates. Gulping nervously, she raises her neck high to feign confidence and then goes out into the dining room. Gladys is shouting, still complaining about Elvis’ hound dog performance.

“...and I said maybe you shouldn’t speak like that. And she said…”

“I like what you did with the dog,” she hears Vernon say from the living room.

“It was the most embarrassin performance of my life, daddy,” she can barely hear Elvis’ gruff, mumbled reply.

She sheepishly glances up from her place in the dining room and can’t help but grin a little at Elvis’ childlike appearance. He’s laying on his side on the piano bench, looking like an exhausted toddler.

“...gettin a laugh outta putin a hillbilly in a tailcoat and singin to a dog,” Gladys continues.

Bird lets the secondhand embarrassment settle in her gut as she remembers how stiff and unnatural he looked during his performance on live television. She had hated the whole thing. It just wasn’t him. It isn’t him. Bird knows him well enough by now to know that the way he moves only enhances his performance. It’s the passion inside of him that moves him the way it does.

Bird turns away as Gladys continues to complain about the neighbors’ whispered gossip. She tries to pretend like she doesn't know that the Peachtrees are in that very group.

The Peachtrees were nice enough to not say it to her face, of course, but they were always saying rude things about Elvis behind Gladys’ back. And she doesn't have the heart or the place to tell the Presleys the nasty things and rumors that are whispered in the secret spaces of the neighborhood.

“Damn it, mama. It were either that or get cancelled,” Elvis says, flipping onto his back. “Then that’s it for television. The Colonel says that I’m runnin outta states I’m welcome in. And they don’t pay unless I can perform. Colonel says I play the charity concert tomorrow night as the new family style and ‘en everybody calms down and we get back on track.”

“Someone’s gotta think bout keepin a roof over our heads,” Vernon agrees, bringing his cigarette to his lips.

Bird keeps her mouth shut, even though thoughts are circling around her brain. She takes a stack of silverware from Alberta. She feels extremely awkward, like she should leave. This is family business, and here she is in the middle of it.

“Roof over our head?” Gladys asks, gesturing toward the roof of Graceland. “We’ve always managed to keep a roof over our head, Vernon.”

“Colonel says daddy’s business manager. It’s his job,” Elvis replies.

“We was doin jus fine before that man came along,” Gladys responds sharply.

“Colonel has got us all uh this,” Elvis says, gesturing to Graceland again.

“I don’t want all this!” Gladys shouts. “You’re not happy!”

“I’m not!” Elvis yells back, flexing his arms and curling his fingers into fists.

Bird, distracted by the strangely sexy temper Elvis had displayed, jumps when Gladys slams the dining room table. Her hands create a shockwave that clinks all the nice dishes and silverware up and down on the table. She holds a few plates to her chest and accidentally makes eye contact with Elvis. He stares back at her with eyes that are dark blue, clouded with anger and frustration. This is the first time they've both really looked at each other, like really looked, in so many months. Since they'd broken up, actually. And it kills every part of her.

“And what the hell is she even doin here?” Elvis asks, pointing at her. Bird feels a tinge of pain and bites the inside of her cheek, pressing the plates into her chest uncomfortably.

“I invited her! You leave her outta this. And that’s beside the point, Elvis. You’re losin yourself, bewbie,” Gladys yells sharply.

“Aw hell, mama, I…”

Gladys approaches her son slowly as he shakes his head. She places her hands on his shoulders and whispers into his ear.

“The way you sing and move, it’s god-given. So, there can’t be nothin wrong with it,” she says.

Bird glances up again from the table to see Elvis staring right at her. His eyes have softened, returning to their natural blue now. That gentle blue that she hasn't seen in so long.

As much as she hates to admit it, Bird's whole body is screaming with affection when he looks at her. She really needs the job, but if she's being honest with herself, so much of her also wants to be near him. She knows that what had happened between them had caused a rift so great that it might never be repaired. But she wants to try so badly. She hopes every day that maybe, just maybe, he’ll see her the way he once did and fall back in love with her all over again. This time, she thinks, I can say it back.

Suddenly, his cousin Billy and a bunch of teenage friends come barrelling into the house, causing a ruckus and tracking dirt everywhere. The commotion breaks the intense eye contact between them.

“Don’t track mud in the house, Billy!” Elvis yells. When Billy starts to protest, Elvis grabs him by the shirt and tosses him toward the open front door. “Get outta my house!” he shouts. “Get outta my goddamn house! Trackin mud in my house, doin my damn head in.”

He takes a few steps toward the door, rubbing a hand over his face and into his hair. He has her full attention, and everyone else’s in the room, even if he doesn’t realize it. Bird hates seeing him this way. The reckless energy he gives off in these moods makes her nervous that he’ll do something rash without meaning to.

“Mama, you ain’t never happy. No matter what I do, no matter how much I give ya, it ain’t never enough,” he shouts and Bird can hear Gladys quietly starting to cry. She takes a swig of the beer in her hand. Elvis turns to leave but then spins back around and points with an accusatory finger at his mother.

“And I wish you would not drink so goddamn much. It’s not good for ya!”

“Bewbie!” Gladys yells after him, as he spins on his heel and storms outside.

Reacting without thinking, Bird places the plates down on the table and takes off out of the house and through the door after him. He storms to his car and angrily throws the door open. When Bird steps outside into the warm Tennessee air, she's confronted with a group of people she doesn't even know. She frustratedly pushes her way through them and stalks toward the car. But by the time she reaches it, he’s already started it and peeled off into the grass, tires squealing.

The rubber tires singe the beautifully manicured lawn as Billy yells at him to turn around. Bird takes off running, cutting through the grass and hoping to catch him in time. As she approaches the gate through her shortcut, there’s a mass of people waiting, holding up signs, snapping photos, and cheering. She watches as Elvis flicks the radio on and winces at the sound of “Hound Dog” radiating from the car. Elvis angrily wipes his mouth and punches the tuner again to find a different station. “Hound Dog” again. He pokes it again, this time landing on the Beale Street station. His favorite.

[ -> "Let It All Hang Out" ]

His focus on changing the station means that he’s stopped the car and fans have gathered around it in a circle. He’s stuck for a moment, just long enough for Bird to push her way through the crowd and latch her fingers onto the side of the convertible. She can tell that her sudden movements have scared him — probably because of the screaming girls around them — when his head shoots up in her direction. She swings the door open and climbs in.

“What the hell you doin?” he shouts over the noise, clenching his jaw and looking at her sideways.

“You’re not goin nowhere by yourself,” Bird says forcefully and folds her arms over her chest. “Not when you're like this.”

His angry expression is back and scares her a little, but she also feels a subtle throbbing sensation deep in the pit of her stomach. A feeling she knows well and has felt before around Elvis.

He says nothing back but turns the wheel as he starts to drive again. Girls scream, shake their signs, and try to grab at the car. Bird catches quite a few dirty looks from some of them, which she returns without hesitation. As the car squeals out of the driveway, she glances back to see a black car taking off after them. Bird turns around on her knees to try and get a better look at it as it tails them.

“Someone's followin us,” she says, turning back around to slide into the leather seat.

“Let ‘em. I don’t give a shit,” Elvis says and she clamps her lips shut.

They both settle in for the drive, no sounds but the wind blowing through the car and the hits from Beale Street humming on the radio. Bird glances over at Elvis as he drives. His jaw is clenched and shoulders upright. Although his arm is draped lazily across the steering wheel, his fingers are constantly moving, curling and uncurling. His hair has fallen over his forehead in thick clumps and the wind is blowing the flaps of his pink lace shirt open and closed over his chest. Her eyes absentmindedly trace down the fabric and land on his chest. This is the first time the two of them have been alone since that day. The tension is too much for her body to sit still.

Bird turns over her shoulder, seeing the black car still following them. She feels like she should speak up and say something but isn't sure how to begin. Elvis turns onto Beale Street and her mouth drops slightly open as she looks around. There’s nothing particularly special about the area, but it’s busy. There’s an energy around that she can’t describe. It just feels…electric, alive. She turns around again on her knees to look around.

“So this is Beale Street, huh? Where you always run off to,” she mutterr to herself, but apparently loud enough for him to hear her.

She gulps hard after speaking, not realizing fully that this is the first time either of them has spoken to the other. Besides the occasional 'excuse me' or 'sorry' mutters while navigating the house.

“You ain’t never been down here?” he asks but continues before she gets a chance to respond. “No, why would ya, a girl like you?”

She ignores his rude comment and responds, “No, I haven’t. But I like it a whole lot.”

She's staring up at the bright flashing signs on the buildings and smiles when she hears music spilling out of one of the open windows. Club Handy, the sign out front says. Elvis pulls into a parking spot on the street.

“It’s a good place. People here are good people. It reminds me of home.”

She feels her heart ache at his words. He frantically grabs his jacket, looking like he’s about to blast out of the car. Her hands fly to the handle of the door, about to open it, when she notices him freeze. He closes his eyes, clenches his jaw, and breathes deeply. His eyelashes are dark and long as they flutter closed. She wants nothing more than to feel them tickle her cheekbones as he kisses her lips. She considers reaching out to touch him but she can’t bring herself to. How dare she touch him after what she did…

“Are you okay?” she basically whispers it.

He shrugs aggressively, throwing the door open and exiting the car. He mumbles a 'fine' before she hops out of the car to follow his lead. She sticks to his side as a crowd of people begins to gather around the car. She glances up at him, sure that this isn’t what he wants right now, but powerless to stop the horde of people closing in on her.

“EP!”

Both of their heads shoot up in the direction of the shout. Elvis’ eyes light up as he waves to a man sticking his head out of a window.

“B.B.!”

Bird's eyes go wide. B.B…B.B. King?

Elvis has turned around to sign some autographs while making his way through the crowd. Bird's getting pushed back but she reaches out and grabs tightly onto Elvis’ lace shirt.

“Hey, what’re ya-”

His shocked expression quickly changes to one of irritation when he whips around to see her grasping onto him.

“Don’t rip my shirt,” is all he says and she nods.

She frantically follows him around the street but every time he tries to go into a building, the crowd of people assembles to stop him. Bird notices an open space and pulls on Elvis' shirt, trying to drag him in that direction.

“What is wrong with ya?” he says angrily.

“I’m tryin to help,” she responds, yanking him. “Go this way.”

But in the time she spends trying to convince him to follow her, another crowd has gathered. He pulls away from her to shrug his jacket on and she loses her grip on him. She stumbles back and gets lost in the crowd, surging forward. She can still see him but she's drowning in a sea of people she doesn't know, faces she doesn't recognize. She watches as a young woman presses a kiss onto Elvis' lips, and Bird's gut drops like a brick into the ocean. She awkwardly turns to try and get back to the car. She decides to just wait there, but someone grasps harshly onto her wrist. She whirls back around.

“C'mon,” Elvis says, his angry expression is back, making her heart lurch.

She doesn't necessarily enjoy his anger when it’s directed at her. But the fact that he’s grasping her wrist instead of anyone else’s is making her body feel hot. She suddenly realizes that everyone in the crowd is probably wondering who she is. Elvis drags her into the building and the doors slam behind them. He releases her wrist, and she peers around the dark hallway. Elvis hugs the man who let them into the building, the man who, now looking at him, Bird's pretty sure is B.B. King.

“It’s damn good to see ya, EP. What the hell you doin up here tonight?”

“Goddamn it, B.B. There’s so much happenin, with mama goin on bout the hound dog and the Colonel’s got me wearin tails and everybody wants somethin different, I-”

“Hey, listen,” B.B. says, grabbing his shoulders. “If you’re sad and you wanna be sad, you’re at the right place. If you’re happy and you wanna be happy? Guess what, you’re at the right place. So just do me a favor, let it all hang out. Let it all hang out, EP!”

“Let it all hang out,” Elvis agrees.

B.B.’s eyes flick behind Elvis and finally latch onto her, as she awkwardly stands still with her fingers intertwined in front of her.

“And who’s this lovely lady?” he asks, taking her hand to press a chaste kiss to it. She smiles bashfully.

“This is Birdie,” Elvis responds, avoiding her eyes, “my neighbor.”

“B.B. King, nice to meet you,” B.B. responds. Bird smiles.

“Oh, I know who y'are. Elvis talks about ya all the time.”

“Does he now? And did he drag you all the way up here with him just to meet me?”

“No, I did not drag her up here,” Elvis responds, running a hand through his disheveled hair.

Bird gulps. Suddenly, two girls come crashing through the hallway, hanging onto each other and laughing.

“B.B.! How you doin baby?” one of them asks through a fit of giggles. “Oh, my, and the Elvis Presley. I thought you was too big to be comin up here anymore.”

“Never,” he replies and Bird despises the way Elvis smirks at her, looking the woman up and down. The other girl mindlessly stumbles away, leaving just the three of them in the hallway.

“Dolores, this is Birdie, Elvis’ friend,” B.B. says, gesturing toward her. Bird gives her a small smile and the woman returns a genuine one.

“This your first time down here on Beale Street?”

Bird nods, wondering what gives her away so easily.

“What’re ya here for? The music? I know Elvis is,” Dolores says, throwing a sexy smile in Elvis’ direction. Bird's heart thuds in her chest but she swallows the lump in her throat.

“I’m just here to absorb as much as I can. Maybe do some dancin? I’m ain't too sure.”

“Well you can dance and absorb all you want, hunny, but you ain’t wearin that inside,” Dolores says, gesturing at Bird's outfit.

She glances down at her checked skirt and yellow sweater, suddenly feeling like a massive prude.

“W-what’s wrong with it?”

Dolores gives her a disgusted face but shrugs.

“Well there ain’t nothin wrong with it, per se. But it just ain’t the kinda thing you wear to a club like Club Handy. We gotta get you into somethin else. Shopping time! Come on, baby, let’s get you set up.”

Dolores grabs her hand and starts to drag her along.

“We’ll be back, gentleman. Enjoy ya fellas time,” she says, waving as they head out.

Bird has never been around a woman with so much force before. Not force in a bad way, but in a way that makes her feel powerful and in control. That isn’t a feeling she's used to. Most of her friends at home are like little flowers, always doing what they’re told and never going out for any reason other than to attend Church or visit the library. Dolores pulls Bird out of the building and across the street. She notices that the crowd has dispersed completely now, although the streets are still busy. They approach a dress shop with low lighting.

“Uh…is it still open? It’s quite late,” Bird says, never having heard of a late-night dress shop.

“Of course it’s still open! What if somebody needed a dress late at night, just like we do right now?” Dolores asks.

They walk into the shop together and Bird's eyes bulge out of her head. The dresses are gorgeous but nothing like she's ever seen before. They are short, tight, and sparkly all over. She can’t help but let her mouth fall open as she glances around at the bold colors adorning the walls and mannequins. This store is teeming with potential, but for a girl like her?

“Mama Ray! Are you in here?” Dolores yells.

A middle-aged black woman comes out from the back, smiling sweetly.

“Dolores, baby, it’s good to see you again! Come in, come in! What d’ya need, girl?”

“We need a dress for this girl right here,” Dolores says smoothly. “Somethin worthy of a dance night at Club Handy. Somethin for a girl tryna get a man all hot and bothered, you know.”

“Ooh, girl! Come here, then, lemme see ya,” Mama Ray says and Bird steps toward her, feeling heat creep into her cheeks.

Mama Ray circles her like a hawk, looking up and down at Bird's angles and curves. She rubs a finger on her chin, grabbing a few samples of colors and holding them up to your cheeks.

“Aha, that’s the one,” she says finally, pulling a deep sparkly black hue. “I got one in the back in this fabric that you should try.”

She disappears around the corner and Dolores leans against the checkout counter, playing with her immaculate nails.

“So how long have you been in love with Elvis?” she asks without skipping a beat, even though her statement makes Bird's heart skip about a hundred beats.

“What?” she sputters.

“Oh come on, sugar. I’m not blind. Any damn body can tell by the way you look at him that you’ve got the hots for him.”

She looks over at Dolores, about to protest again, but the woman's kind eyes make Bird want to confide in her. Besides, even if she did tell her the truth, she didn’t think Dolores would actually believe one word she says. Bird sighs deeply and nods.

“A long time, Dolores,” she replies. “We were goin together back when he was stayin in Louisiana, but…”

Bird waves her hand dismissively.

“Well it don't much matter now.”

“What the hell do you mean it don't matter?”

“We broke up. It was messy. It’s over.”

“It don’t have to be,” she says. “You just gotta show him what he’s missin.”

Bird's head snaps to attention as Mama Ray comes out from the back with the long sparkling dress. She holds it out for Bird and she disappears behind the curtains of the dressing room. She drops her head into her hands for a moment, breathing deeply.

How did she get herself into this mess?

She undresses and gently tries to pull the black dress on. It takes her a minute to figure out exactly how it’s supposed to fit. She's never worn anything like it in her life. She shrugs, holding two pieces of fabric in front of her face.

She exits the dressing room, holding the straps like they’re fragile baby birds. Dolores laughs as soon as she sees her and beckons her over.

“You didn’t even look at yourself, did ya?” she asks, maneuvering Bird over to a mirror. “That ain’t how you wear it. Lemme help ya.”

Bird leans away from her for a moment, trying to resist, but Dolores is too willful. And before Bird knows it, she's standing in front of herself. Except the person looking at the mirror is not the same one peering back through the glass. Dolores’ fingers daintily and expertly maneuver the portions of the dress around until it looks much more natural. She steps back and Bird's mouth drops open for a moment at the sight of herself. The dress is skin-tight, hugging all of her curves in the right places.

The top is crossed at the neck, leaving a hole where her cleavage is clearly visible. Another strap winds around her throat like a choker and it has a gem that draws attention to her jawline. She feels regal and elegant. She can also see that it leaves the entire top half of her back uncovered. The way it hugs her hips and then falls into grand drapes makes her look taller and older. She touches a hand to her chest, shocked by the sight of herself.

“Ooh, hot mama!” Dolores shouts, clapping her hands. She takes a turn around her body, pinching and tucking parts of the dress to see how it fits her. “Damn that fits you good. He ain’t gonna be able to take his eyes off of you.”

“That dress was made for ya, honey,” Mama Ray agrees, nodding her head. “In fact…I’ll sell it to ya for half off cause it looks so good on ya.”

“Oh, I couldn’t. I have plenty to-”

“I said what I said.”

Bird shuts her mouth, reaching into her purse to grab what little cash she has stuffed away in there.

“Try these on, too,” she says, sliding a pair of high-heeled black pumps across the counter.

With Dolores’ help, she steps into them.

“How do ya feel?” Dolores asks.

“Uh…not like myself.”

“Nah, baby, that’s the point,” Dolores says, placing her hands on Bird's shoulders. “The real you is scared, too frightened to be bold and make a move on the man you want. This you, well she’s strong. She’s brave. Pretend like you’re someone else. Embrace this new version of you and make up a whole new name for yourself. Who do you wanna be?”

“Bird,” she says without skipping a beat. “Elvis always calls me 'Lil Birdie'. He even introduced me to you as Birdie but that's ain't my name. I ain't no little birdie, anymore."

[ -> "Tupelo Shuffle" ]

“No you ain’t, hunny. But one last thing before we go get you your man,” Dolores says, reaching up to untie the ribbon holding her hair up into a ponytail. Bird breathes deeply as the hair falls down and tickles her neck and ears. Dolores fluffs it up then turns her around to look at herself before speaking.

“He has no idea what’s comin.”

─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

Bird and Dolores run, giggling, across the street back to Club Handy. Bird is terrified to move in the tight dress for fear of breaking it, but the more she shifts the more comfortable she gets. By the time she's running up the stairs of the club she's moving like a regular pro, looking elegant and sexy while she does so. As she climbs the stairs, quite a few men whistle and compliment her. She smiles bashfully and fluffs her hair up. Dolores stops her right outside the door, grabbing her hands.

“Alright now,” she says. “Don’t forget who you are tonight, Bird. Be confident, be sexy, and most of all be a tease.”

She winks and she nods, instinctively pulling her into a hug. She chuckles and hugs her back.

“Ready?”

“Ready.”

Dolores swings the door open and music floods into the hallway. They both step in, feeling energized and buzzing with nerves. The music is fast-paced and loud, the room smells deeply of smoke and cologne. She takes a big whiff, feeling emboldened by the strength of the scent. She looks around for a moment, spotting Elvis talking to B.B. in a corner. He hasn’t noticed her yet since he’s bent over with a relaxed smile. It’s a smile she hasn't seen in quite a while and one she's desperately missed. She's jealous, wishing she had been the one to make him smile like that.

“I might need a little liquid courage,” Bird says and Dolores nods with a mischievous smile.

They walk together over to the bar and order two whiskeys. Bird starts to drink hers but sputters, spitting some out. She feels her face grow hot with embarrassment but, luckily, everyone’s attention is focused on the young man singing at the front of the room.

“Now that ain’t cool. Is Bird the type of woman who can’t hold her liquor?” Dolores asks, staring her down. She clears her throat and shakes her head stiffly.

“Hell no she’s ain't,” she responds, pouring the rest of her drink down her throat like she'd seen Mrs. Presley do a time or two before. It burns her esophagus and tears well up in her eyes but channeling Bird helps her blink them away.

Whether it’s just her being a lightweight and drinking for the first time or the strength of the whiskey or her brain making things up, she feels emboldened and maybe a little drunk already? She smiles confidently and hooks her arm over Dolores’ elbow. Both women saunter over to where Elvis and B.B. King are sitting.

“Well, hi there, boys!” Dolores says, her voice like velvet.

She points her chin up as much as she can, elongating her neck. Elvis starts to look up with a smile, but it fades quickly when he finally sees her. She stares back directly, refusing to back down. She's tired of running away and the courage from the liquor buzzing in her brain helps her do what she's wanted to do for the last few months.

His eyes slowly, agonizingly trace down her figure, around every inch of her body. She can see him taking in everything she's putting out, including the cleavage in the middle of her chest. She feels sexier than ever with his eyes landing on her like that and it makes her even more confident. When his eyes return to hers, they are black with lust. His lips are parted and she can see him practically panting for her. She relaxes her body, sticking her hip out to place her palm on it sassily. She's daring him to want her.

“Damn. Lil Birdie, I-”

“My name ain't Birdie, tonight,” she cuts him off. “Tonight I’m just Bird.”

She can see the confusion turn into recognition in his eyes as she speaks the words. His eyebrows furrow and she catches a glimmer of sadness in them.

“Well, Bird, how was your shopping trip?” B.B asks, a mischievous smile on his face.

“Oh I’d say it was very successful,” Dolores responds. “Wouldn’t you, B.B.? I mean just look at this dress Mama Ray pulled out for Bird.”

“Oh I’d say it was a success, alright,” B.B. agrees and Bird notices his eyes trailing up and down her figure as well. He pulls out the chair next to him. Bird glances at Dolores who raises her eyebrow and she understands.

She saunters in front of Dolores to sit down next to B.B. and leans forward in the chair. She rests her elbows on the table, feeling Elvis’ eyes track her every movement and loving every single second of it. She stares intently at B.B. with a little smile festering on her face.

“So, this is my first time on Beale Street,” she starts, tracing the top of a whiskey glass on the table with her finger. "It’s pretty different from where I live.”

“Yeah? Is different bad?”

“Oh no. Different is good. Really good. This place feels like everythin I been missing,” she responds. “The cars are fast, clothes are fine, and the men? Well…”

[ -> "Do You Love Me" ]

She lets her finger fall down from the whiskey glass onto B.B.'s fingers, lightly tracing across them. As they stare into each others' eyes, the music changes to something energetic but sensual. B.B. stands and offers her his hand.

“Would you like to dance, Bird?”

She smiles and stretches her arm out in response, dropping her fingers into his. He pulls her up and after him onto the dancefloor. As she walks by Elvis’ chair, she makes sure to ‘accidentally’ drag her fingers along his shoulders. She barely feels him shudder under her touch for a quick moment before B.B. has her on the dancefloor.

Bird's only ever danced a formal waltz and a little shimmy here and there, but nothing like the gyrating hips and quick feet she sees around her. She lets B.B. take the lead and he pulls her close as she strings her arms over his shoulders.

“Now I know you aren’t wearing that dress for me,” B.B. whispers in her ear as their hips sway together. “Or anybody else in this building except for one person.”

“I don’t know what ya mean, B.B.”

He just nods at Elvis, who’s still tracking her every move with his deep blue eyes. She glances around for Dolores and finds her giggling in the corner with a handsome man.

“It’s really that obvious?" she asks and then sighs deeply. This is the second time tonight someone has commented on her — apparently obvious — infatuation with Elvis.

“Pretty obvious,” B.B. replies. “Maybe not to some people, but as a man I can tell when a woman is trying to turn someone on. Chicks don’t wear dresses like this for no reason. But I think I can help ya.”

“I welcome it. Elvis hates me,” she replies. “We had a messy breakup and things have never been the same.”

“Sometimes that's how things go, but it doesn’t mean they’ve gotta stay that way,” B.B. responds, gripping her hip firmly onto him.

Bird doesn’t feel any sexual attraction toward B.B., but if she did it would be over for her. He certainly knows how to hold a woman tenderly in all the right places.

“Arch your back just a little.”

She follows his directions, making sure to emphasize her ass and chest. As B.B. turns her around, she makes eye contact with Elvis. His finger is dragging along his bottom lip, pulling it out, and his eyes are focused on her totally, completely, unwavering. She holds his gaze and cuddles closer to B.B., turning her head to brush her lips gently against B.B.’s ear.

“You’re an evil genius,” B.B. laughs. “He’ll hate that.”

This time when B.B. swirls her around, she purposefully avoids Elvis’ eyes, knowing he’s looking for her. She's like a toddler on a carousel with an attentive parent watching her every turn around the circle. Just as she laughs at something B.B. says, the song ends and another, less dance-worthy tune heats up.

“I could use another drink. Buy me one?” she asks B.B. and he nods, taking her hand and leading her to the bar.

She orders another whiskey, downs it fast, and feels immediately blurred. But she loves it. It’s all according to her plan as she walks back to the table. B.B. pulls her chair out for her, placing her directly between him and Elvis. Bird smirks as she takes her seat and throws her head back to shake out her hair. She can feel Elvis' eyes burning holes through her clothes, but she turns away from him toward B.B. and gets back to chatting, making sure to laugh at all of B.B.’s jokes.

After a while, most of the people in the club have left, and there’s only a handful still milling around. The lights have been dimmed down and tables emptied as the last few guests crowd onto the dancefloor. She's on her third whiskey when she realizes that, at some point, Elvis and B.B. had gone out to the balcony to talk. So, it’s just her left at the table, with Dolores hanging about somewhere. She's started to lose track of time and everything moves in slow motion, blurred and relaxed.

[ -> "Fever" ]

When the song changes again, she finds herself stretching up from her seated place, drawn to the dancefloor. She makes sure to sway her hips even though Elvis is nowhere to be found. She positions herself near one of the windows, mostly hidden from others, where she can do her thing and only be noticed by a few people, most of all the one she wants to notice her.

She slowly reaches her arms up into the air and begins to sway her hips around in time with the music. She closes her eyes and tilts her head back, letting the music flow through her veins and direct her body. She feels connected, at peace, and utterly in love with herself. She can feel that she's irresistible right now and everyone has their eyes on her.

With her eyes closed, she's completely disoriented. Suddenly, hands are on her waist, gripping the skin, and hot breath is ghosting over her neck. Her eyes fly open and she tilts her head. She would know the touch of those hands anywhere.

“Can I help you,” she mumbles.

Elvis chuckles breathily as one of his hands slides its way onto her abdomen, while the other sneaks down toward her heat. Her hand flies up to stop him, gripping his fingers and moving them back up to a respectable place.

“Uh, uh, uh,” she says, shaking her head. “I don’t get dirty with men who don’t deserve it.”

She resists a shudder as his lips tickle her ear. He presses his body against her backside and she lets her arms drape back onto his shoulders. She sways her ass into him and feels his member twitch. She smirks as his grip on her stomach tightens, squeezing the breath from her body. Her eyes close again and she tilts her neck to the side. Her heart rate increases with every hot breath he blows on her neck. Just as his lips brush the tender skin there, the song ends abruptly.

It takes everything in her, but she won’t give him the satisfaction. She pushes away from his body, untangling herself despite his best efforts to hold on. Fixing her dress and hair, she returns to the table to finish her drink. She feels his eyes on her figure as she slinks away, sitting down and dumping the rest of her whiskey down her throat like a pro. She lets the unpleasant sensation ripple through her body, shivering, and turns with a drunken smile toward B.B. She opens her mouth to say something flirty, but-

“Get up,” Elvis’ voice is raspy and deep as he mutters into her ear.

She whips around, about to tell him to fuck off but when she sees his expression she falters. His eyes are angrier than she's ever seen them, almost black in the dim lights of the club. There’s something about his intense gaze that’s unhinged, animalistic. It scares her and also arouses her, so she smiles briefly at B.B. and gets up from her seat. As soon as she stands, Elvis grabs onto her bicep and ushers her into the hallway. He swings her outside and she roughly pulls back on his grasp.

“Hey, go easy, ya brute,” she spits, managing to rip herself away from him. She smoothes down her dress. “What the hell is thi-”

“What the fuck do ya think you’re doing?” he hisses, grabbing her arm again.

“Excuse me?” she hisses back. “I haven’t done nothin to you. Let go of me, ya asshole.”

She wiggles in his fingers but his arm slams loudly onto the wall by her head. It prevents her from going anywhere, pinning her between a wall and a hard place. She looks at him with widened eyes.

“Let me leave, Elvis,” she says, genuinely a little scared now. “I wanna go home.”

She ducks under his arm but it slips off the wall and wraps itself around her wrist. She flails her arms from side to side and even tries to thump his chest a few times but he only holds on tighter. As she struggles, he backs her up, slamming her against the wall. She shudders in a sense of alarm, which is quickly turning into delight. He presses himself up against her, clenching his jaw. Every part of his body touches her, except in the place where she needs him most. He stretches her arms up, pinning them above her head and bears down on her. She smirks, chuckling silently.

“What’s wrong, EP? Can’t take the heat?” she breathily whispers and flashes her teeth as she bites at the air like an untamed horse.

Who is this person and what are they saying? she thinks to herself.

Whatever she did works, though, because he audibly growls and presses her wrists harder into the wall.

“Why are ya doin this to me?” he demands, pressing into her.

She resists the urge to moan or groan, neglecting her body’s most primal needs. Her leg twitches, tingling to wrap itself against him, but she resists with every fiber of her being.

“Doin what?” she replies with a voice much stronger than she feels.

She leans into the air between them, challenging him to answer. They both breathe heavily, knowing what they want but refusing to give in. She watches as his eyes fall down to her breasts and then back up to her eyes. She feels him hard against her thigh but she clamps her teeth together.

“You know damn well what ya doin, Lil Birdie.”

“Just Bird. I’m ain't little anymore, Elvis. You’ll call me Bird.”

His eyes flash angrily for a moment and she gulps before the lusty glaze returns. He continues through clenched teeth. She decides to play coy, knowing it’ll drive him wild.

“And I have no idea what ya talkin about,” she says, strategically letting her leg slide up his body and hook onto his hips. She watches his eyes follow the movement. He says nothing, and she knows it’s because he can’t.

“Is it…things like this,” she angles her head toward his bare forearm, dragging her tongue across the skin, tasting the salt of his body. “Is that what I’m doin?”

He groans again and she can see his jaw clenching roughly. It’s taking everything in him not to pounce on her.

“Goddamn it. I swear to god, Lil Birdie, if you don’t stop this right now,” he growls through gritted teeth.

“What? What are ya gonna do about it, king?”

They stare at each other for a moment. There is almost no light in the hallway; the only shadows in the room come from the blinking lights of the street signs outside. She can smell the lingering scent of smoke on Elvis’ clothes. A creeping smirk is pasted on her face, and his chest rises and falls rapidly with labored breathing. Already tired of waiting, she flexes her leg on his hip, pushing his member against her.

His lips crash onto hers, pushing her head flush against the wall. She curls her fingers above her head, arching her back to press her body harder against his. His grip is firm on her wrists and it aches but she welcomes the pain. He’s kissing her frantically, desperately, hotly all over. There’s no chance for either of them to breathe. Every time he finishes a kiss, he goes straight back for another one. His hair is getting messy, falling into their faces and tickling her skin. She bites his bottom lip and he forces his tongue into her mouth.

As he assaults her lips, she squeezes him with her leg, and he responds immediately by pressing himself against her and pulling back before repeating. She moans quietly into his plump lips, and he groans in response. He starts to get into a rhythm and she feels herself growing warmer by the minute. Her stomach is twisting and turning, demanding more contact. His lips slip off hers and trail hot, wet kisses down her neck. He bites and sucks harshly on the skin, and she moans louder at the pleasure that shockwaves through her body. He manages to bite a sweet spot on her neck at the exact moment his hips thrust between their clothed bodies and she can’t help herself. His name flies out in a moan through her lips.

“No…” he growls.

Suddenly the air around her is devastatingly cold. Her leg falls to the ground with a thud and her arms follow. They hang limp at her sides as she struggles for breath. Elvis has pushed himself off of her and is standing at the opposite end of the hallway, breathless and disheveled. Bird looks at him from across the way, feeling tears start to well up in her eyes. She's frozen, this time with real fear. Not of his anger but of losing him again. Despite the fuzziness of the booze from earlier, she feels soberer than ever now. Elvis makes eye contact with her, biting his tongue with his teeth. He laughs, but something is off. It’s not a happy laugh or even a lusty one. It’s disturbed, sadistic almost, as if he couldn’t even believe he’d let himself be manipulated by little old Birdie. He glares back at her and even in the dim lights, she can see that his eyes are glassy. He shakes his head and then sprints down the stairs.

─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

It takes jer a second to gather her breath and to push the tears back into her eyes, even though her face won’t unscrew itself from the emotional pain. She wipes a straggling tear away as she bounds down the stairs after him. When she hits the bottom step, she pauses for a moment to quickly tear off her shoes to move faster. They are starting to hurt her feet, anyway. She runs outside to see him climbing into the car.

All of the lights along the street have either been turned off or dimmed, and there is almost no one left in the streets or buildings. The spotlights shine with hazy lights that reflect the moisture on the roads. In the distance, she hears the familiar sound of Elvis’ car starting — or trying to. For some reason, the engine sputters and the car stalls. By the time it’s finished hissing, her fingers are clutching onto the side of the convertible again.

“Goddamnit!” he screams, slamming his palms against the steering wheel.

His forehead follows, banging onto the wheel. She doesn't get into the car, unsure of what to do. She wants to hold him, tell him everything will be alright, stroke his hair. But everything is so awkward between them. Something in the universe doesn’t want them to be together. Not without a struggle, at least.

“Get in,” he mutters dryly. “I’ll take ya home.”

She keeps quiet and climbs into the car. Elvis patiently starts it and the engine revs to life just fine. He whips out of the space and starts driving home. She can’t bring herself to say anything. Not even when she notices that he’s taken a wrong turn. Not even when she's been driving for twenty minutes even though Graceland is only ten minutes away. Not even when the houses and cars start to become fewer and far between. The way he expertly navigates each turn suggests to her that he already knows it isn’t the way home. She knows she should be scared since she has no idea where he’s taking her. He could be kidnapping her for all she knows.

But nothing in her could care that much. She is with him and, truthfully, that’s all she cares about. Once they reach a dark, nature-filled area, he pulls over into the grass.

She hasn't had much time to go exploring around Memphis since Gladys has kept her pretty busy working at the house, but she can tell that they're in some kind of park. It’s incredibly dark, but the headlights cast beams of yellow onto the scene. And the pale blue light of the moon adds an eerie but calming contrast as its glimmers reflect off the small body of water below you. You crane your neck to look up at the white wafer in the sky and Elvis stops the car.

The weather can not be better for being outside. The heavy, humid air is still warm but as the wind gently blows off the lake, it hits her skin, chilled, and balances out to the perfect temperature. She can hear crickets chirping and rustling leaves in the wind. Sitting here surrounded by the perfect weather and calming atmosphere of the park, she feels a sense of calmness like she's never experienced before.

“I don’t understand ya,” Elvis finally says in a monotone voice. No feeling in his tone, whatsoever.

She turns to him but says nothing, waiting for him to explain.

“I give you everythin and you reject it,” he continues. “Then outta nowhere, you want it all back. I-I don’t understand it.”

Bird still says nothing, feeling her forehead crease as it tries to prevent the tears from forming.

“Do ya have any idea what I’ve been goin through?” he asks, his voice rising. She finally looks him in the eyes with desperate fear.

“You destroyed me, Birdie. Wrecked me completely,” he says, his eyes glassy in the darkness. “I didn’t know what to do with myself. I woke up every single damn day and wondered what the goddamn point uh life was if you ain’t here with me. Nothin felt right. Everythin was empty, even my music. I felt so goddamn alone. Like nobody was there for me. Like nobody fuckin cared, I mean really cared, bout me.”

“Then why d'ya do it?” she interjects, whispering loudly. She shakes her head and leans toward him. “Why did you come to me that day? We coulda done this. Together.”

“I did what I had to do,” he replies. “I thought…I thought it was the right thing to do. What I had to do.”

“How could you possibly think it was right, when it felt so, so wrong?”

“I was jus lookin out for my career, aright,” he’s shouting now. “I don’t know what the hell I’m doin! Everybody wants something goddamn different, and I don’t know how I’m ‘posed to please everybody. Mama wants one thing, the Colonel wants another, and then there’s you and…I just don’t know what the fuck you want. I think ya love me and then you leave me out to dry.”

“I didn’t mean to, Elvis!” she shouts back. “I just…I was so angry with ya. For breakin my heart, for dumpin me like I was extra baggage!”

The tears start to spill out of her eyes and her voice shakes and cracks.

“And I could tell that it was hurtin you and that it wasn’t what you wanted. So, the fact that you continued to lie to me…Elvis, it was breakin me into pieces. I trusted ya, even though everybody I know told me not to. I did. I trusted ya and, in that moment, you lied to me for no good reason other than to hurt me. You proved all those people right, and I didn’t know what to believe.”

“Listen,” he snapped, holding up a finger. “I never, ever meant to hurt ya. But don’t act like the innocent party here. I gave ya a chance. I put everythin out there for ya and you threw it all in the garbage.”

“No! No, I didn’t mean to, I-”

“You know I didn’t have to fuckin say that to ya! Specially not when I’ve got girls throwin themselves at me left and right. I could have any damn woman I want. Temptation’s everywhere - and then here you fuckin go again in that goddamn dress tonight,” he cut himself off. “Puttin everything out there, gettin all up close with B.B. Everybody’s fuckin lookin at ya, wantin ya. Torturing me. Puttin me through hell and for what?! So you can win? So you can punish me? For what, Bird?!!”

“No!” she screams through clenched teeth.

“Fuck! You’re so damn infuriatin!” he yells, curling his fingers up like he’s squashing her head between them. “I told you that I fuckin loved ya, and you said nothing! Not a damn thing. You let me walk outta there thinkin that you didn’t give a damn bout me. Then you show up here workin with my mama, my fucking mother, behind my back. I wanted you outta my life and here you go again back in it. And now you just won't fuckin leave me alone! You won’t let me go down to Beale Street to cool myself off! You just always gotta be in the fuckin middle of it all!”

“I’m just tryna protect you! You were scarin me, Elvis! I thought maybe you were gonna hurt yourself or somethin, the way you tore outta there. I just want ya to be happy, damn it! And I can help! Why won’t you just let me in? I can help you!”

“Because I don’t want you to have to deal with all this! The colonel is the best chance I got. I gotta support my family, cause I ain’t gonna let 'em get into a situation like that ever again. I know I can be great and make a difference in this shit world. But I can’t do that on my own. I need help, and he’s gonna help me. He’s the only one who can, so I gotta trust him.”

“Fine!” she yells, throwing her hands up. “But why won’t you just admit that he told ya to break up with me?! I know he did. That’s all I wanted, Elvis! I just wanted to hear the truth from your lips. I didn’t wanna be lied to!”

“Yes! Alright, yes! He did advise me to break up with you! But his advice ain’t the only reason! I want you outta my life! I want you somewhere safe where you don’t gotta deal with none of this shit! All these people, th-these women, throwin themselves on me all the time! Hangin round my house! Callin my goddamn phone! All these cameras and photographers takin pictures of me every time I fuckin breathe. I didn’t wanna put ya through all that. It ain’t fair to ya!”

“Well,” she says weakly, her bottom lip starting to tremble. “Then I guess I’ll leave if ya want me to. The only reason I was here anyway is because ya mama asked me to come but I can go tomorrow. I’ll move back to Louisiana and live with Daddy.”

“No. See that’s the worst fucking thing bout it,” he continues. “I don’t want you to leave at all. Not even a little bit.”

They're both leaning into each other, their faces half angry and half sad. Both of their eyes are brimming with tears. Their faces are close without touching. Bird doesn’t know what to say to him, so her eyes desperately search his instead.

“I want you here all the damn time. I think about ya every second of every day,” he continues, reaching up to touch her cheek. “I want you every second of every day. Damn it, Lil Birdie, you have no fuckin idea how badly I wanted to rip this dress off ya body and have my way with ya right there. How badly I wanna touch ya, feel ya, make ya feel good, hear how ya scream my name.”

She closes her eyes, leaning into his hand and biting her lip.

“And it ain’t jus that. I love bein with ya, talkin to ya. Everything about you draws me in. It’s like a trap. But I can’t keep doin this with ya. It’s like one day you want me and when I come too close, you push me away. And I jus don’t think…that I can be around ya if you don’t love me back. Because…Lil Birdie, I ain’t ever loved anyone or anythin as much as I love you. With my entire being. Everythin that I am. And bein around you…it just hurts too damn much.”

His voice starts to crack at the end of the sentence and he drops his head. She hears him sniff and notices his shoulders lightly shaking. All of her uncomfortable tingles fall away, and she quickly moves closer to him to rest her palms on the sides of his face. She lifts it to see his eyes underneath the dark night sky. Tears are streaming down his cheeks but she hurriedly wipes them away.

“No, no, no, no. Oh, Elvis, I didn’t mean to…I didn’t want any of this. I never meant to hurt ya I just don’t trust the Colonel, that’s all. He’s a manipulator, just like my daddy can be. I know it cause I see the same things in him that I see in my own daddy. All he’ll do is hurt ya and ruin ya. And I can’t,” she gets choked up,” I can’t take that.”

“It doesn't matter none. Nunna this does if you don’t love me anyhow,” he quietly breathes out. She sniffs hard and looks up at the moon and stars, trying to will her emotions into subservience.

“I…I didn’t say it before cause I was afraid, okay?” she whispers. The tears fall silently down her face now, staining her skin. “The last person I said it to was my mama, right before she died. And I haven't said it to nobody else since then, cause…”

She loses her voice, both embarrassed and afraid of the secret words she has never voiced to anyone other than herself.

“Cause what?” he asks, looking up at her with glossy eyes.

“Nothin. It’s stupid,” she replies, pinching the bridge of her nose. He pries her fingers loose and tilts her chin toward him.

“There ain’t nothin you could ever say to me that’s stupid. Talk to me, baby.”

His sweet blue eyes always hold so much passion and when they're trained on her, it feels like she's the most expensive object in the world. The only one worth looking at. She takes a shaky breath.

“Well, the thing is, ya see, my mama was real sick. On her deathbed sick, and I went to visit her at the hospital and I…well I told her that I loved her. And she jus…” the tears start streaming again. “She jus died! Right there! Right after I’d said it…I can’t never say it again, Elvis. I’m terrified that it’s gonna…th-that I’m gonna…”

“Kill someone?”

She winces in pain as she tries to hold back her tears.

“I told ya it was stupid.”

“It ain’t stupid, baby,” he says, moving to cup her cheek. “No, it ain’t stupid. And I’m sorry if I pressured ya, I just didn’t know.”

“How could ya? I never told nobody. Not even daddy. This is the first time I’ve ever said it out loud, actually.”

He scoots as close to her as he can with the gear shift between them and strokes both of her cheeks with his thumbs.

“I know you care bout me. That much is obvious, specially since I know you didn’t come all the way up here to help my mama in the kitchen,” he says, smiling. She releases a sad laugh. “That’s more of a nightmare than a dream. And I can feel it in the way you look at me. I can tell. But if you ain’t ready to say it, I ain’t gonna make ya. I just…I would really like it if…can we try again?”

She looks at him in the moonlight. His hair is disheveled, pushed back onto his head and tangled. He looks so incredibly handsome in the pale moonlight as it casts soft, hazy shadows over his features.

“Please, Lil Birdie, can we try again?”

Bird nods. He offers a small smile, bringing her head to his lips to kiss her forehead gently. She closes her eyes and eagerly accepts it. When he pulls back, he releases her and turns back around in his seat. She stays put, gazing at him in the moonlight again as he leans his head back against the seat and heaves a big breath. He looks more relaxed, but his lips are pressed into a straight line.

─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

Gathering what energy she has left, she climbs out of the car and walks around to his side. She holds out her hand, silently, nudging his finger with hers. He glances over at her with sad eyes and she speaks.

“Dance with me.”

She means to ask him but it comes out more like a command.

“We ain’t got no music,” he mumbles. She leans over him in the car, flicking on the radio and punching a few different stations until she lands on one with a slow song. “Cry to Me” by Solomon Burke.

[ -> Cry to Me ]

“Now what’s your excuse?” she asks.

He says nothing.

“Dance with me, Elvis.”

She wiggles her fingers and he glances up before reaching for her hand. She pops open the door to the car and he swings his legs out, standing up. After he straightens up, she has to glance up at him. She drags him in front of the car, the headlights casting shadows of their bodies onto the grass canvas behind them. Bird carefully moves her hands to his chest, stepping closer to him. His arms weakly wind around her waist and lay limp on her hips. When she looks up to see his chin pointed down, she slides a few fingers underneath it and raises his eyes up to yours. He looks soft, sweet, and subdued staring down at her. She begins to sway from side to side, gently and intimately.

She slides her hands up his chest and pulls him close to her, winding her arms up and around his neck. She slides your fingers onto the nape of his neck, gingerly yanking on the tuft of hair at the bottom of his head. His head slowly tilts back in acceptance of her touch. She feels his arms strengthen, pulling her closer, and he lowers his forehead to hers. She sways her hips against him to the rhythm of the music and slowly starts to lean her head back. His grip on her waist tightens as she bends the top half of her body all the way back, hinging at the waist like she'd watched a few women do at the club. When she comes back up to him, she runs your hands over the soft lace of his pink top, taking in all the texture you can. She nods her face up, brushing her lips softly against his. His eyes close and she hears his deep breaths as he grips onto what little fabric of her dress he can clutch.

“You made me a promise once,” Bird whispers against his lips.

“Nah, it ain’t right,” he responds, shaking his head. And She knows he remembers what he’d promised her on the lake.

“And breakin a promise is?” she asks, pulling back to look into his eyes.

She winds her whole arm around his shoulders, and he supports her back as he dips her in a circle. When he pulls her back up, his arms travel up her back, his hands clutching onto her shoulders. Somehow, he manages to pull her even further into him. Their bodies are pressed together again, just like they had been at the club. Bird's insides start to throb as he feels him grow against her leg. He needs her and she desperately wants to give him what he requires.

“Unless…you don’t want me,” she suggests, knowing she's wrong but giving him an easy out if he really doesn’t feel up to it. He shakes his head immediately and chuckles softly.

As their bodies sway together to the music, friction increases between their skin. She tilts her head to the side and he moves his head into the space she'd created for him. His breath is warm on her neck and his lips brush against her skin. Not kissing it, but almost. She feels one of his hands travel down the dress and onto her ass. As she leans her body backward again, he supports her entire frame with one arm, his eyes tracking her body as it moves fluidly. He watches the way her neck exposes itself to him with hunger. He pulls her up again to his eye level. His face is obscured by shadows in the moonlight but even in the darkness, she can see the desire, the dark lust, the need for her.

“Oh hell no, baby girl. I want ya somethin fierce,” he says. “I always do.”

And she can tell the difference between his expression now compared to the one from the club. This one isn’t just lust. It’s desire. He doesn’t just want her body. He wants all of her. Whatever she has to give.

Her head is still tilted and she closes her eyes as he drags his hot lips up the skin and onto her cheek. He presses his forehead against hers. She keeps her eyes shut, not wanting to see, only to feel his hands, his mouth on her. His presence.

“Then take me,” she whispers, bringing her fingers up to his face. She sensually drags them down his cheekbones and to his lips. He groans, quietly, in contentment and she smiles.

“I can’t.”

“Why not? I’m givin you everything ya need. I’m givin you permission, no I’m askin for it. I’m beggin for it. For ya to love me in every way that you can…because I love you.”

His eyes flash open in shock and his hand slides onto her face to stroke her cheekbone.

“I love you, Elvis,” she repeats and a smile breaks onto her face.

She releases a tense breath, feeling free from the cage she'd locked herself in. He returns the expression with the smile of someone so deeply in love. In the way his eyes search her and see her, she can feel his love. It swirls around her and pulls her into a warm embrace.

The next time she leans back to be dipped, he reaches through the slit in the side of the dress to grab onto her thigh. His fingers dig deep into the skin, supporting her without question. And he pulls her flush against him, expertly angling his hips into her heat. She gasps, letting her head fall back again. And she starts to move in rhythm against his hips. He slowly raises her up again to let her lips brush together once more and she feels his lips twitch up into a small smirk.

She hovers by his lips for a moment before letting her fingers drag across his chest. She takes in the feeling of the lace, the soft skin of his chest in between and watches as her fingers pull apart the open flaps. She circles around to his back, running her hands up his spine and feeling him shudder underneath her touch. As she circles back to the front, she lets her fingers fall uncomfortably low on his back, ghosting over his bum and then teasing the skin right above his belt loops. His eyes flutter closed for a second, his lips falling open. She raises herself onto tip-toes, whispering into his ear.

“Take me, Elvis.”

By the way his fingers turn her around, she can tell that he’s giving in. His hands slide effortlessly down her abdomen, creeping closer to her heat. She turns her head just for a moment but it’s enough time for his lips to return to her neck. He doesn’t kiss it, doesn’t bite it, just rests there, teasing the skin. He deftly unclips the top part of her dress fastened around her neck and the straps fall open, resting on her chest and exposing the tops of her breasts for him to access. She breathes heavily, feeling the mounds expand and contract. She throws her arm up and over his shoulder, grasping onto his neck as she gyrates her hips back into him. His hand moves to wind around her ribcage, just below her breasts. So close but so far. He whips her around to face him.

“I love this dress,” he says, smirking. “Let’s destroy it.”

He walks her back until her thighs hit the front hood of the car. She slides her hands down his chest, pulling up on the fabric of the lace top and untucking it from his pants. She lifts the shirt up over his head and tosses it somewhere on the grass. Her hands return to his shoulders, running down his smooth skin and feeling the hair on his chest. She bites her lip, nudging her nose against his. She feels him twitch against her and raise his lips up. She denies him a kiss, even as his hands slide underneath her legs and lift her up onto the hood of the car. Her pussy is throbbing now with him pressing against her to intensify the feeling. She spreads her legs, pulling him in between her thighs. He nestles his head into her neck again and this time, he gives her what she needs.

He kisses the skin hotly and then bites it playfully, pulling on the skin. She sighs with pleasure. His calloused hands push the fabric of the dress aside to run up her thighs. He leans on top of her, pulling her leg around his hip. She lets him lay her down on top of the hood, wrapping her arms around his neck to pull him in. Her eyes are locked despite the movement. She can feel him even more now as he leans against her on top of the car. Her pussy screams for contact and she wiggles to try and get some. He's positioned his hand behind her head to protect it from the metal hood of the car, and his fingers splay onto her neck to support her.

Her hands fly to his face, gently stroking both of his cheeks with her thumbs. They look at each other for a minute, sharing a silent expression of love. Her head bobs forward without realizing, wanting his lips. But he's too far away, so all her action does is show him how badly she needs his lips. She's waited long enough. He caresses her so gently, tilting his face down and finally pressing his lips to hers. The perfect kind of kiss, sweet but still passionate. His plump lips wrap perfectly around hers, and as he kisses her, he applies more pressure. She pushes back, liking the little game they're playing.

He runs his tongue over her lower lip and she pushes him back to look at him. She can feel her eyes growing heavy with lust and she knows he probably finds her sexier than ever with how badly she clearly wants him. He leans down again and she opens her mouth for him to slip in. Their tongues dance together, swirling around each other. He gently thrusts against her. She whimpers quietly and lets her hands slide down the smooth skin of his chest again.

She pushes him back, leaning up to stay in contact with his lips, but staying far enough back that she can dance her fingers down to the skin above his belt. She feels his stomach suck in a breath as she grabs onto the metal belt hook and pulls him harshly against her. He grunts and she smirks into the kiss as she starts to unhook his belt. She angrily pulls it out of the loops and throws it onto the ground, wanting it out of the way. As she slides down off the hood, his hands fall to her waist and then onto her ass, squeezing it hard. She unbuttons and unzips his pants, wickedly running her fingers down into the pants and over his hard dick. He slides his hands around her waist, gripping her hard, and yanks himself away.

“Jump,” he commands, breathlessly.

She does as he directs and he pulls her effortlessly onto his hips. She wraps her legs around him, winding her arms around his shoulders and kissing him passionately, frantically, deeply.

He carries her around to the side of the car, pushing her legs down. She plops to the ground and he flips her around again to pull her body against him. His hands travel up her sides, under her armpits, pushing her arms above her head. She leaves them up, wiggling her fingers into the chilly air as his fingers tickle her upper back while he unzips the dress. She feels hot breath and wet kisses on her back as he pushes the fabric aside and kisses down her spine. She shudders and arches her back when he swipes his tongue over her lower back. He pushes the fabric down her body and pulls it off her hips, leaving her only in a strapless bra, panties, and the garter belt holding up her silk stockings.

She turns around and leans against the door to the backseat. He kneels underneath you, pulling her leg up and over his shoulder. He runs his hands down her thighs, tugging on the straps of the garter belt. She pants and bites her lip, watching his fingers dance across her skin. He unclips the belt and wraps his fingers around the tops of the stockings, slowly, agonizingly rolling them back off her legs. He kisses down her thighs, down her kneecaps, her shins, and onto the tops of her feet. He does her other leg and she wiggles in anticipation, feeling her desire start to leak through her panties and the swollen lips of her pussy.

Elvis’ hands claw their way back up to the belt, unfastening it from her waist and letting it fall to the ground. As he stands, his hands slide up her back, clutching onto her bra and pushing it open. He sways her back and forth to the music still coming from the radio, pressing himself flush against her. He opens the door to the backseat and she lets him lay her down as he flings the bra off to some unknown space in the grass. She giggles giddily, bending her knees to wrap around his hips as he lowers himself down onto her.

She kisses him eagerly, clutching onto the back of his neck and pushing her hips down into him. His hands slide up her stomach, massaging her breasts as he bites and pulls on her lips. As soon as his fingers latch onto her nipple, she moans into his lips.

“So sexy…” he mumbles as he pulls back roughly to latch his lips onto her nipple.

His tongue swirls around the sensitive skin and her fingers tangle themselves into his hair. The chilled wind means that Bird's nipples are standing to attention and she can tell that he likes it. He sucks on the sensitive skin around her breasts, nipping at her nipple and pulling it between his teeth. She moans breathlessly, grabbing painfully onto his hair. She feels him moan back into her skin, which only makes her wetter. He releases her skin and the cold wind freezes the moisture on her. She frantically pulls at his hair and face, wanting him back on her lips.

He crashes up onto her and her fingers desperately clutch lower on his body, pushing the fabric of his pants away. He pulls back, straightening and she jumps to help him toss his pants off. When they’re laying lifeless on the ground, she pushes him down onto the seat, climbing on top of his waist to straddle him. His hands fall to her ass as she pushes him all the way back onto the seats, leaning over him and letting her hair tickle his chest.

“Fuck…so sexy, lil mama,” he says, biting his lip. Bird smirks, feeling her pussy throb at his words.

His mouth falls open with labored breathing as he runs his tongue over his teeth at the sight of her on top of him. She starts to move her hips against him, pushing her ass into the air as she leans down to kiss his neck. His hands grip her ass harder, pushing her back and forth as she grinds on his dick. He growls as she bites hard onto his neck.

“Goddamn, lil mama, where the hell d’you learn to do that?” he asks, and she just giggles.

“Oh, I got a good teacher,” she responds, dragging a finger across his lips.

His wet lips open and she slides her finger in. She bites her lip at the feeling of his tongue swirling around her finger. Her breathing is ragged and she doesn't know how her pussy could get more swollen than it already is. She's so wet that she can barely even feel the juices she's sure are leaking out of her pussy. She mischievously leans close to him as if she's going to press a kiss on his lips. Just as he leans up to brush his lips against hers, she wickedly pulls back. He jerks forward and his eyes fly open at her sudden absence. He grips her hips as he sits up, and she starts to fall back until he catches her in his arm. She smirks, knowing she's teased him successfully.

“Bad girl,” he whispers, shaking his head. “Get on ya back.”

She nods enthusiastically, hopping off of him and switching places. He returns to her breasts, peppering them with kisses and sucking the skin. He drags his luscious lips all the way down her body and hooks his fingers into her underwear. He pulls them off and stretches her leg out, kissing down the skin. He gets to her inner thigh, and she physically peels her body off the cushion. Anything she has to do to get him to touch her throbbing folds. He bites and pulls on the skin of her inner thigh, as close as humanly possible to her heat and she whimpers and groans.

“Please…” she whispers, without meaning to. Elvis looks up at her from where he is, a wicked smile pasted on his face.

“What d’you say, baby girl?”

“Please,” she breathes louder and catches herself moaning, even though he’s not touching her.

He finally runs a finger up her folds and she can't help but notice how easily it slides through the liquid. She shivers and bites her lip hard, closing her eyes instinctively. Fuck, it feels so good. But his finger only lingers for a moment before it disappears. Her eyes shoot open, and she whimpers again, wiggling her hips.

“You’re so fuckin wet for me, Lil Birdie, goddamn,” he says in a deep, raspy voice. “You been this wet for me all night?”

“You been that hard for me all night,” she shoots sback, dragging a toe along his hard dick. He sucks in a breath and grabs her foot.

“Behave now, lil mama. You had ya time to be a tease. It's my turn, now.”

He runs a finger up her folds again and she convulses with a groan.

“You like that, don’t ya, princess? How I tease ya?”

“Y-yes,” she replies softly.

“Ya just so perfect, all wet and swollen for me. It’d be a shame to ruin it,” he says, running two fingers up her wetness.

She balls her fingers into fists and thrashes around on the leather seats. He looks up at her, his eyes dark with lust. He bites his lip and licks her folds, sucking on her clit. She moans loudly at the feeling of his coarse tongue drawing shapes on her sensitive nerves. She grasps at the side of the seat when he licks it again and then inserts a finger.

“Shit, so loose,” he mutters, pumping a finger in and out for only a few seconds before adding another finger and then another.

Three is as many as she can handle at the moment, the tightness becoming uncomfortable. He pumps his three fingers in and out of her a few more times, her juices sloshing from the movement of his fingers.

He pulls out and she watches with an open mouth as he licks his fingers clean, one at a time. His tongue swirls daintily around each finger, and she clutches, white-knuckled, onto the bench of the car. He gives her a quick kiss on her clit and she throws her head back with a sharp intake of breath. He picks up her legs, pulling him into his lap. She pants, feeling him twitch hard below her.

“You still a virgin, darlin?” he asks and she nods. His eyes light up. “Good. Now, I made ya a promise, and I intend to keep that promise. But I gotta ask ya. Is this what you want? Here in the back of the car? Not at home in a bed.”

“Here is fine,” she responds quickly, reaching to grasp him to her. He shakes his head, removing her hands from his neck and holding them to his chest.

“I’m serious, Lil Birdie. This what ya want? I ain’t about to ruin ya first time.”

“You couldn’t ruin it if you tried, Elvis,” she replies, running her hands down his face, his arms, his body. “Everything is perfect, baby. I just want you. All of ya. Everythin you can give me. I want it all.”

He smiles sweetly and presses a kiss to her forehead. He leans over the front seat and pops open the glove box to get out a condom.

“How long have those been in there?” she asks, laughing.

“Just a few hours,” he says sheepishly. “Got some from B.B. at the club.”

She giggles, falling back onto the leather seats, and watches as he rolls the strange thing over his hard dick. He pumps it a few times to make sure it’s secure and Bird gulps as he comes closer. He leans down to kiss her, resting his dick against her heat. She resists the urge to move, letting herself get familiar with him but also teasing her nerves in the process. She kisses him, sweetly and sensually. No biting, no licking, just lips meeting other lips. When he pulls back, his eyes are full of lust.

“You’re all mine,” he whispers, tucking a strand of sweaty hair behind her ear. “I get ya all to myself. You’re so pure, untouched. And here I getta ruin ya. Make ya feel things you ain’t never felt before.”

“Go slow,” she says, smiling, and he nods.

“Don’t worry, Lil Birdie, I’ll take my time. I want this to be good for ya. Perfect.”

He gently grabs his dick and runs it along her folds a few times. She breathes in quickly and bites her lip. He smirks and gently guides the tip in. She squeezes her eyes shut and digs her nails into his bicep as she feels his member stretching out her skin. It’s painful but not as bad as she has been expecting. He rests inside her for a moment, brushing hair out of her eyes and kissing her forehead softly.

“I love you," he whispers and she opens her eyes. He’s smiling down at her with a face so loving that it almost draws tears to her eyes.

“I love you,” she replies, stroking his cheek. “I’m ready.”

He nods, slowly starting to thrust in and out of her. She winds her arms around him, pulling him close to her. His head buries itself in her neck, biting and sucking on the skin as he slowly pushes in and out of her. It still hurts and Bird's eyes grow watery with tears. But as he wraps his arms underneath her, pulling her as close to him as possible, it starts to hurt less. Her moans increase as she gets more comfortable and they fall into rhythm with his movements. Her body starts to respond on its own, moving in time with his thrusts. Her hips rise up meet him and he speeds up after she shows him she can take it.

“You’re so fuckin tight, lil mama,” he whispers in her ear. She moans through a smile in response, tangling her hands into his hair. As she yanks harshly on the locks, he moans and grunts.

“Elvis…” she moans, and he growls.

“I love it when ya say my name, baby.”

She giggles.

“Elvis…” she repeats, dragging out the last ‘s’. He hisses out a breath.

“Hell, Bird, you’re so infuriatin. You got me fucked up bad,” he says, and she feels his muscles flexing underneath her fingers.

She digs her nails into his back, throwing her head back. He takes the opportunity to press his lips against her neck. He grips her lower back, pushing her up so that it arches. She moans frantically between breaths, raking her fingers down his smooth back.

“I’m go-I’m gonna…” she chokes out.

“Hold off jus a lil longer, sugar,” he says, grunting as he slams into her.

Bird's body is moving without her control, pushing him on and on, deeper and deeper into her. She bites her lip hard, probably drawing blood, and scratches his back, clenching her thighs. Whatever she has to do to hold off until she get spermission. His movements grow sloppier as he nears his own orgasm. He sweats, the droplets dripping off of his hair and onto her skin. In any other scenario, she'd be disgusted. But the thought of his scent marking her, claiming her, it’s everything.

“Elvis, baby, I can’t,” she whimpers, curling her toes.

“It’s okay, lil mama,” he grunts. “Let go.”

One more thrust is all that she needs. She feels her stomach clench and waves of pleasure roll over her. Her body shudders and she screams as she reaches the top of the mountain. She slowly slides down the other side as Elvis pulls out of her, pumping himself a few times to finish off. Her legs are shaking, vibrating with the painful pleasure that spreads through her veins. She breathes raggedly, shakily.

Elvis is kneeling above her, his abs shuddering. His hair is pushed back, sweat dripping down the side of his forehead. His mouth is dark red, hanging open in a satisfied half-smile. She rests her hands on her head and breathes out a laugh. Elvis takes a deep breath and rolls off of the seat onto the floor of the car. A few moments of silence pass, both of them trying to get ahold of their breathing.

“So…that’s sex, huh?” she asks, breathless.

[ -> "In the Still of the Night" ]

She lazily lets her fingers drop down to him, and he clamps onto them. He says nothing and when she rolls over to glance down at him, his eyes are closed, a dumb smile pasted onto his features. She chuckles, rolling onto her stomach so that she can peer at him. His eyes open and look up at her. His face looks so handsome, flushed with red cheeks from the heat of her sex. His hair is sticking to his forehead and up in the air at the same time, laying sexily all over him.

“How was it?” he asks. Her lips curve up into a huge smile and she shakes her head.

“Let’s just say I’d really, really like to do it again sometime. Preferably sometime soon."

He smiles handsomely, closing his eyes.

“You know, baby,” he continues. “I’ve been with a lotta women. But ain’t nobody ever got me all shook up like you. You got me hot all night, sweatin my ass off cause I needed ya so bad. You showin up in that dress and dancin around like some kinda mythical siren or somethin," he pauses to laugh. "I ain’t never been so aroused in my whole life. Not to mention the way you move. You got a god-given gift for this, girl. But I’m glad I could make it good for ya.”

She gently touches his face, dragging a finger along his swollen lips. He opens one eye and smiles mischievously, popping her finger into his mouth and running his tongue over the nerves. She playfully smacks him and laughs but her joy falters for a moment.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I shoulda told you about everythin. I shoulda said it the day ya left. That I loved you. That I love you. I’ve hated myself every day since then cause I let you walk away. And then when your mama called, I jus wanted to see you so badly. I thought maybe you would just fall in love with me all over again.”

“It’s okay, darlin,” he says, sitting up. He takes your fingers in his hands and kisses them gently. “I never shoulda put ya in that situation. It was wrong of me. I knew I loved you. Hell, I knew I loved you since that first day we took our first walk together back from the hayride. And I never fell outta love with you neither. You hurt me somethin bad, but I never stopped lovin you all those days. All that time.”

Bird squeezes his fingers, leaning down to kiss him.

“I ain’t gonna lie to ya,” he says. “It won’t be easy, bein with me through all this. But I wouldn’t want it any other way. I want you here, with me, forever. I’ll always love you, Lil Birdie.”

“I love ya more,” she responds. They at each other for a moment before the wind blows through the air and Bird shivers.

“You’re freezin,” he says. He hops out of the car to go searching for something. She folds your arms over your chest to try and stay warm.

“What’re ya lookin for?”

“My goddamn jacket! Where the hell is it?” he yells and she laughs at the sight of him, completely and totally naked, stalking around like bigfoot trying to find his clothes in the dark. He laughs and she buries her head into your hands.

“Aha!” he shouts and she laughs harder, feeling tears well in her eyes. Happy tears, for the first time in a long time.

He comes back with the biggest, most proud smile on his face. He drops it over your body and, surprisingly, it’s much warmer than you’re expecting.

“That’s better. Let’s get ya home before you freeze to death,” he says. She climbs out of the car and leans down to pick up your crumpled dress, not realizing the show you’re giving Elvis.

“Or before I lose control of myself and ravish you again."

She whirls around to smack him but he grabs her arms and pulls her into him. She laughs and he places a soft kiss on her lips. She quickly gathers up the rest of the clothes and hops back into the car. She listens to the radio on low, holding his hand and leaning her head back with closed eyes. The wind feels soothing and refreshing, even though it’s a bit cold. They don't say anything to each other on the way back, just sit in comfortable, content silence. Every so often, Elvis raises Bird's fingers to his lips to kiss them…

“Birdie, baby girl, wake up,” she stirs to Elvis’ soft, raspy voice. They're back in the driveway at Graceland. “You fell asleep, baby. C’mon, Imma take you inside.”

“But I don’t have a bed 'ere,” Birdy mumbles, as he lifts her out of the car, bridal style. She rubs your eyes and then holds onto his neck.

“Oh no,” he says in a sing-songy voice and smirks. “I guess we’ll have to share.”

She smiles and giggles, burying her head in his neck. He carries her inside, quietly, and sneaks her up the stairs and into his room. She borrows one of his extra shirts to sleep in and crawls into the bed. They probably smell like sex but Bird doesn't care. Once he wraps his warm, strong arms around her, she's the happiest she's ever been.

“You’re my girl, Birdie baby,” Elvis whispers, pressing a kiss to her temple.

“Forever,” she whispers before falling into a deep sleep.

─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

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