"I'm telling you, Y/N, I got a whole mess of ideas swimmin' around in my head! I can do big things with this!"

You watch Elvis pace around the suite you've been set up in, his robe loose around him as he throws his hands up in excitement.

It makes you smile. He's like a little kid on Christmas, his smile lighting up the room as he explains the idea of an orchestra, back up singers, a full band.

You want so badly to be happy for him, but your happiness is tinged with a sour note.

This is everything Elvis has ever wanted, but you know the second he slips up the Colonel could snatch it all away, like a hawk latching onto a rabbit.

For now, though, you're content with listening to Elvis, finding the passion in his voice extremely sexy.

The sleeve of his robe falls down one shoulder a little as he stops infront of the bed.

"I'm sorry darlin', I'm rambling, ain't I?" He says with a shy grin.

You smirk, humming as you shuffle onto your knees and place your hands on his exposed chest.

"No, I like listening to you."

You walk your fingers down the toned flesh there, making your way to the belt of the robe.

Elvis follows the path your fingers make with hooded eyes and a parted mouth, hands frozen in place.

Deft fingers loosen the fabric, and you slide your hands back up Elvis's chest as the robe falls open.

"Wanna come to bed, Mr. Presley?"

You tilt your head to the side, coy as all get out.

Elvis let's out a groan that you take as an affirmative, gently gripping your waist and tipping you onto the bed.

You shriek with laughter as he kisses up and down your neck, your own gown falling down your shoulders.

You know you should tell him how you feel about the whole thing- about the stage and the Colonel and the hotel- but when you're in Elvis's arms like this, nothing else exists.

As Elvis is undressing you, you decide that your talk can hold off until tomorrow morning.

*

*

*

You're sitting at one of the tables in the theater, watching with bated breath as Elvis and the band rehearse for tonight's show. Candice sits beside you, tapping her feet along to the beat of the music.

"You excited for tonight?" She asks you over the music. You smile, nodding enthusiastically.

"I've never seen him preform, except for the special!''

Watching Elvis's rehearsal is almost as exciting as watching a full performance, the energy in the room electrified. You can't seem to take your eyes away from cis as he struts across the stage, his voice low and sultry over the speakers.

He's beautiful, magnetic.

The spell is broken, however, when an all too familiar voice comes from your left.

"The space is fantastic, wouldn't you agree?"

The Colonel directs his gaze to you, and you shift uncomfortably as his beady eyes bore into you.

You clear your throat.

"Elvis sounds unbelievable, I'm excited to see him in his element."

The Colonel taps his cane against the floor, hands folded over one another.

"Yes, yes, think of the profit he'll draw in!"

You furrow your brow.

The thought of money hadn't even crossed your mind, too engrossed in Elvis's passion and excitement. It concerns you that money seems to be the only thing on the old mans mind.

You go to turn your attention back to Elvis, but the Colonel speaks again.

"You'll be sitting in the front row, of course."

You nod slowly, not sure what he's getting at.

He smiles at you, but there's nothing friendly to the gesture.

"You'll have a perfect view of all the beautiful women drooling after my boy, panting like dogs in the summer heat."

You're taken aback by the statement, physically rearing yourself back in your seat.

Elvis laughs into the microphone in the background, but you can't seem to focus on anything but the Colonel's condescending smile.

"Y/N, you can't be naive enough to believe he'll be able to resist such temptation."

Candice makes an indignant sound from beside you, but you place a hand on her thigh.

"I got it, Candy."

You lean towards the Colonel.

"I may be young, Mr. Parker," you begin, forgoing his ridiculous title. "But I know how Elvis feels about me and I know how I feel about him."

You sit back in your chair crossing, your legs.

"If I need your relationship advice, I'll be sure to ask for it." Sarcasm drips from your tone, and the old man flushes scarlet.

It's obvious that this isn't a man who is used to being disrespected. You don't really care, though, seeing as the Colonel's been nothing but disrespectful to you since you met him.

He doesn't say anything for a moment, just darts his eyes from the stage and then back to you.

You hope that he'll just walk away, leaving you to watch the rest of the rehearsal in peace, but what the Colonel says next makes your blood run cold.

"Perhaps you should call your brother, invite him to a show."

You freeze.

Your throat closes, mind going blank.

Thankfully, Candice has had enough.

"Would you just leave us alone, please? We get it, you don't like us!" She exclaims, and a producer infront of you turns around at the sound.

"We're not too fond of you either, if you haven't noticed." Candice finishes. The producer walks over, clipboard in hand.

"Everything okay over here?" The man asks, looking from the two of you and the Colonel.

The Colonel waves a hand.

"Everything is fine, perfectly fine." He looks to you.

You nod your head stiffly.

"We were just leaving." You say, grabbing your purse and slipping quickly out of the booth.

You move fast, practically sprinting down the aisle. Candice calls after you, but you don't turn around.

It's just hit you how upsetting the situation you're in is.

You can feel yourself beginning to tear up, and you don't want to cry infront of strangers, so as soon as you get into the elevator you punch in your floor number.

You take deep breaths, looking up at the mirrored ceiling.

God, you think, what kind of mess are you in?

You want more than anything for Elvis to be happy, and you've never seen him smiling as big as he was during rehearsal, but you just wish it were under different circumstances.

The elevator comes to a stop, and you make your way to your room, sliding down the door as soon as you enter it.

You press your knees to your chest and let yourself cry.

Eventually, you make your way to the vanity in the corner of the room. You take your time wiping off your ruined make-up, not watching the clock as you clean yourself up.

You hear the door open, Elvis coming in to stand behind you.

"Why'd you run off like that, Y/N?" He asks, and you feel yourself tear up again at the concern in his voice. You don't want to cry anymore, especially not infront of Elvis, but you can't seem to help it.

"Parker," you begin, and Elvis grunts.

"What'd he say to you, darlin'?" He crouches down, taking your face in his hand.

You take a shaky breath.

"Elvis, I'm so scared for you."

This makes Elvis raise his eyebrow in question, lips parting.

"Scared for me- whaddya mean?"

You place one of your hands over his.

"I know you're excited for this new chapter of your career and I couldn't be happier for you," you say, voice thick with emotion. "But that man, Elvis, he's no good." You finish, voice breaking.

Elvis brings his other hand up to wipe your tears.

"He's just in it for the money, baby. He doesn't care about you, if you get hurt. You can't perform under blackmail! It's wrong, Elvis!" Your voice rises as you choke back sobs.

Elvis brings your head to his chest, locking you in a tight hug.

"Shh, it's alright." He says, and the deep rumble of his voice comforts you some as you cry. Elvis pets your hair, fingers stroking through the long strands.

"Nothing is gonna happen to me, angel. Not a thing." He reassures you.

You want to believe him, want to think that everything is going to work out, but you're becoming more aware of the Colonel's true motives, and this lavish hotel is becoming more and more like a gilded cage.

You pull away, looking up at Elvis with wet eyes.

"I just don't want you to be stuck here, stuck with him."

Elvis gives you a soft smile and a shake of his head.

"Y/N, this is everything I've wanted and more. I can manage it without the Colonel." He leans in close.

"And, hey, in about a years time I'll have made so much money, we can ditch that old fart and go on the road, you me and the band."

You giggle a little, feeling slightly better.

"That sound good to you, mama?"

You nod. He smiles, nose pressed close to yours.

"Yeah?"

Elvis kisses the corner of your mouth.

"Gonna take you to Paris," another kiss.

"Rome," a kiss on the nose.

"Fuckin' Canada," a kiss on the lips that leaves you both breathless and giggling.

"Anywhere you wanna go, I'll take you."

You look into the deep blue of his eyes and think you wouldn't mind getting lost there.

"Just wanna be with you, Elvis." You murmur. "I don't care where we go."

He kisses you again for good measure.

Once you both break away, he stands up, slicking back his hair with both hands.

"Now," Elvis says. "Let's get my little lady lookin' right for the show tonight."