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sassy-ahsoka-tano · 2 years

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ASG - Part Five: Ribbons and Rings

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Requested: n/a

Prompt: Now that Bird and Elvis are back together, they're in for quite the rollercoaster. With the drama of the Trouble performance and Elvis going to Germany for two years, what is to come? [ Fem!OC ]

TW: A little violence during the Trouble scene + some mentions of anxiety, panic attack symptoms

Rating: Pg-13 || Word Count: 5978

A/N: finally she's here!!! i missed birdie so much actually 😭 also i rewatched the scene post-trouble with crawfish and FRICK. it's just so ✨ ✨ i want to **** *** *****

This is part 5 of ASG. Find the rest of the series here!

🦋 mila

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She wakes to the smell of frying bacon and burning fat, her mouth salivating at the thought of some fresh breakfast. As she rubs the sleep from her eyes, she sits up and tries to figure out where she is. she glances around confusingly for a moment before she remembers that she'd spent the night with Elvis in his bed at Graceland.

She can’t stop the smile that spreads across her face as memories from the night before flash through her eyes. Dancing at Club Handy, driving through the night in the shiny purple Cadillac, making love amongst the trees, and letting the wind gently caress their naked bodies. She glances beside her to see the bed empty, the sheets rumpled and pulled back.

She swings her legs over the side of the bed and stretches before approaching the dresser in the corner of the room where Elvis had folded her dress and other clothes. She smiles fondly as her fingers dance over the sparkly black fabric but she reaches for the familiar and comfortable yellow checked skirt and matching sweater instead.

After shrugging them on, she sniffs the sweater and grimaces at the horrible smell - smoke and something she can’t quite identify. She has nothing else to wear, so she just hopes Mr. and Mrs. Presley won't notice. she gently rakes her fingers through her hair and fixes it the best she can without a brush or comb. She's sure Elvis has a comb hiding somewhere in here but, with the mess that she's standing in, she doesn't have the time nor desire to go rummaging through his bedroom for a lousy comb.

Once she's satisfied enough with her appearance, she takes a deep breath and hesitantly opens the door to step out into the hallway. She pauses in the space, listening for signs of movement anywhere. She doesn’t know where Elvis is or if he’s told his parents that she stayed at Graceland last night. She doesn’t hear any voices or footsteps but she does hear the soft sounds of gentle piano music floating through the house.

She tiptoes down the stairs in search of the sound, hoping the wooden boards won't creak under her steps. She makes it to the bottom of the stairs without alerting anyone and veers to the left, peering around the corner to see Elvis sitting at the piano in the living room. His head is bent and his fingers are lazily plucking at the keys in a melancholy tune. She steps into the carpeted room.

“Y’aright?” she asks softly, trying not to spook him.

He glances over his shoulder at her and a big grin immediately spreads across his face, his white teeth shining between his perfectly pink lips. He shifts on the bench to face her and beckons her closer with his fingers. She accepts the invitation, stepping toward him and taking a seat on his lap. She drapes her legs over his thighs and wraps her arms around his neck to stabilize herself. One of his arms curls around her lower back to support her and the other rests on her knees.

“Yeah, baby,” he mutters, reaching up to cup her face. His thumb strokes her cheek gently. “How’re you doin? You…took a lot last night.”

She scoffs and rolls her eyes.

“Oh, I’m just fine. And ya know what? I could take it all again right now if you wanna bet, mister. What’re ya workin on?”

“Oh, nothin, just playin round,” he responds.

But his head drops and eyebrows furrow as he glances out the front window. She peers around him to see his eyes flicking back and forth as if he’s searching for something on the front lawn. She can tell that something’s wrong. Unless…

“Was I…aright? Last night, I mean?” she asks, the thought just now occurring to her. Elvis’ eyes flick up to hers immediately and he nods ardently.

“Oh yeah, baby girl. You was…” he blows out a puff of air with raised eyebrows and she giggles.

“Well, what’s wrong then? I can tell somethin ain't right,” she pushes.

He just shakes his head and averts her eyes. She slides a finger underneath his chin and tilts his eyes up to face her.

“Please tell me, Elvis. Let me help ya.”

He sighs deeply but starts explaining anyway.

“I just don’t know what to do bout tonight,” he starts, shaking his head. “I mean Colonel’s breathin down my neck to be family-friendly. Mama’s tellin me to listen to myself. B.B.’s sayin the Colonel’s not what he seems. I-I just don’t know who to listen to. I don’t know who’s right 'en who’s wrong no more.”

She stays quiet for a second as she considers the best way to say something inspirational to him.

“Well, I think ya certainly oughta listen to those people,” she starts and he sighs again. “But then ya gotta ignore 'em.”

Elvis' head snaps up, eyes wide with surprise and confusion. She continues to explain herself.

“Cause at the end of the day, you,” she pokes him in the chest where his heart is, “you are the only one who knows what right and wrong are. You gotta listen to yourself first. Let ya voice be the strongest. your voice, not ya momma's, not B.B.'s. Yours.”

His head drops again and she can tell that he’s lost in thought, contemplating the right decision. His eyes are searching the space between them. She reaches down to cup his cheek and turns him toward her again, leaning closer.

“I believe in you, Elvis. Whatever you decide, I know you’ll make the right choice and I’ll be here to support ya. Always and forever. I’ll be with ya every step of the way.”

His eyes flick around her face as he offers a small half-smile. His hand reaches up to cup her cheek and she leans into his touch. His chin starts to drift up and she responds by closing the gap between them, pressing her lips against his for a sweet kiss. When she pulls back, she rests her head against his. After a few short moments, he leans his head up and presses a gentle kiss on her forehead. She smiles happily.

“You right, Birdie. As always,” he says with a smile. “Now, let’s go get some breakfast. The smell of that bacon’s got me salivatin.”

"And here I thought it was me," she jokes and Elvis laughs heartily.

─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

She can’t help but smile as she stares across at herself in the mirror. She's tried to dress more adult, to look older and more professional, since she'll be seated with the family as opposed to the crowd. Gladys had already invited her to attend the Russwood Park performance weeks ago but, until last night, she had no intention of taking Mrs. Presley up on her offer.

After the wonderful escapade she'd shared with Elvis, how could she not go? Bird is more than happy to have the past behind her and to move on from the awkwardness of them both trying to constantly avoid each other.

She's opted for a darker makeup look, a bold red lip and carefully curled hair. She chose a black and white houndstooth skirt with a black blouse, unbuttoned to show a bit of cleavage. She has to admit that she feels beautiful as she stares across the bathroom counter into her own eyes. She just hopes Elvis will agree and grabs her purse before walking out of the guest house and up the stoney path toward the big house.

Graceland is in complete chaos as she steps inside, with the Colonel’s people running every which way. She expertly dodges them as they dash around the house. She tries her best to find one of the family members and sighs with relief as she spots Gladys in the kitchen. The older woman looks overwhelmed but smiles when she sees Bird. She approaches the young girl and pulls her into a tight hug.

“Oh thank god you're here, Bird,” she whispers into her ear. “I can’t take another minute of this…this…”

“Chaos?” Bird asks, eyeing a man who sprints past her with a half-zipped bag full of clothes. Gladys sighs with relief.

“See, I knew you’d understand.”

“It’s time to go, Mrs. Presley,” a man Bird doesn’t recognize interrupts their conversation and she glances back at Gladys who just shakes her head, exasperated.

“Bird, you're ridin in the car with me and Vernon,” she says, taking ahold of her hand.

“Oh, where’s Elvis? I was hoping to wish him luck before the show?” she asks as Gladys drags her out the door and toward a shiny black car.

“He left a few minutes ago, dear. Ya jus missed him, I’m afraid. But you can see him after the show. We hafta go now or we gonna be late ourselves.”

Bird follows her lead and climbs into the car. Vernon is already seated in the front seat, smoking something which wafts back toward her. She waves her hand by her face to dispel the smoke as the car's doors are slammed shut and the driver takes off, a little too fast for her liking. She anxiously stares out the window as they fly down the streets.

As they approach the ballpark, her head flicks back to attention and she stares out the front window in awe. There are literally hundreds, probably thousands, of people at the park. All to see Elvis. There are girls and boys of all ages and races gathered around the outside gate, which opens kindly for you. Some of them try to sneak in and Bird cringes as police officers tackle a woman in a poodle skirt before she can slip through the gate.

The car rolls up toward a section of cheap plastic chairs set out on the lawn. Everything is eerily quiet for a moment, so quiet that you’re startled when someone clicks open the door next to you. Bird glances at Gladys but she’s already climbing out of the car on the other side. Bird does the same and her jaw physically drops when she steps out to see all of the people surrounding her. There are fans everywhere she looks.

As she walks toward the chairs, following Gladys and Vernon, she glances around the surroundings. The stage is in front of everyone and the Blue Moon Boys are already set up to play. There’s a section of fans standing right in front of the stage but she notices that they're separated by race. As she glances back behind her, she can see Senator Eastland and his white supremacist buddies all watching down their noses. She averts her eyes, not wanting to look at them any longer than she has to. She takes her position, standing next to Gladys by the band on the edge of the stage, and nervously looks around for Elvis. She checks her wristwatch. He has to be arriving soon. The concert is supposed to start in just a few minutes.

She hears screams erupt from the corner as a black car - which exactly matches the one she rode in - pulls up. She cranes her neck, but it’s no use; she can’t see anything. Although, all the signs tell her it’s probably Elvis arriving. A smile unknowingly pastes itself onto her face as she barely sees the top of his head pop out of the car. He comes more and more into view as he walks closer to the stage.

He looks especially handsome in an all-black suit with a red tie. The cameras are flashing like crazy and the audience is screeching uncontrollably. As Elvis approaches her, Bird can’t help but bite her lip as her eyes mentally undress him. His blue eyes are dark as they glance over at her and the ghost of a smile graces his face. He leans over to give Gladys a hug. She kisses his cheek and mentions Jesse, Elvis’ twin brother who died as a baby. Then, Elvis shakes Vernon’s hand as his father tries to encourage him to play it safe.

Finally, it’s her turn. Elvis smirks down at her as she raises herself up to press a kiss to his cheek.

“I love you. Remember what I said before,” she mutters into his ear.

When she pulls back, he’s nodding. He reaches out and pinches the skin on her jaw, shooting her a smirk before he turns to walk onto the stage.

She follows Gladys and Vernon to their seats. She's positioned between Gladys and Elvis' cousin, Billy, in the middle of the aisle. She sits down, crossing her legs and watching as Elvis takes the stage in front of the rowdy crowd. As she glances up at him, she can see mischief in his eyes and she knows that he’s up to something. Probably her fault, but she stands by her advice.

“There’s been a lotta talk about the new Elvis,” he says into the mic and the crowd immediately erupts into a passionate chorus of boos.

Bird bites the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling.

“And of course, that other guy,” he continues, reaching his finger into the air and wiggling his pinky.

She smirks to herself. Although she doesn't understand the gesture, she can tell that he's staring directly at Senator Eastland and that's enough context for her to get the meaning of it. She watches with bated breath as she can tell Elvis is debating about whether to be safe or reckless.

“There’s a lotta people sayin a lotta things,” he says. “Course you gotta listen to the people that ya love. But in the end, you gotta listen to yaself.”

Her mouth drops open at the shock of him repeating her words. She smiles, a sense of intense pride washing over her. He listened to her. But most importantly, he listened to himself.

“So I want ya to know those New York people ain't gonna change me none!” he shouts, lifting the strap of his guitar over his shoulder and passing it off to a bandmate. “Imma show ya what the real Elvis is like tonight!"

She bites the side of her cheek again but nothing can stop the smile that spreads across her face as he swings his arm down for the music to begin. She glances over toward Vernon and Gladys as they frantically try to figure out what’s going on. Elvis starts to sing the lyrics to Trouble and Bird laughs out loud at the relevance of the song. He raises his fingers to his head as he belts out a line and breaks into his usual wiggle routine onstage. Her breath hitches in her throat as he readjusts the microphone and her mind flashes through images of his hands on her body. His hair has already flopped onto his forehead and she grips her skirt as more images of his sweaty body hovering over her blink behind her eyelids.

The way he handles the microphone makes her heart slam against her chest. And she perks to attention as he glances over in her direction. She can’t quite tell, but she desperately hopes he’s looking at her. Her mouth pops open in surprise as he drops to his knees on the stage, thrusting his hips up toward the girls in the audience. Jealousy suddenly swarms in her stomach as he interacts with his fans. She knows it’s only for the show, but her smile drops and she crosses her arms over her chest, mentally willing him to stop. To her pleasure, he does and retreats back to center stage. He drops the mic stand and catches it in his other hand and her smile returns.

Her attention is drawn off the stage as the crowd below it starts to grow rowdy and restless.

“Oh lawd have mercy on us,” she hears Gladys mutter next to her as Elvis falls onto the stage, screaming into the microphone.

You’re quickly starting to agree with her. All the fun Bird was having is drying up very quickly and being replaced with worries about the ensuing brawl before her.

“Uh, now would be a good time to get back into the car,” she glances over her shoulder to see the Colonel addressing the family, her included.

Gladys links her arm in Bird's as they both stumble to a stand. She starts to pull Bird away, leading her through the crowd but Bird peers behind her searching for Elvis. She can't see him at all. He’s buried by the screaming crowd around him. She stops, ripping herself away from Gladys and frantically looking from left to right for him. He’s not onstage anymore and the crowd has turned into a full-on fight. There are people running everywhere, screaming, policemen, punches being thrown, women fainting. People are streaming past but her feet start moving toward the stage before she can think of a better plan. She pushes against the crowd, bumping shoulders and stepping on toes. A particularly large man bumps into her, and she stumbles to the side, clutching her shoulder before her back slams into another person. She gets jostled back and forth for a few minutes before she finally sees him. With wide eyes, she sticks her hand up in the air and screams.

“Elvis! Elvis!”

Miraculously, he manages to glance right at her and his eyes widen. she can see that police officers are clutching onto him, trying to drag him away from fans that have swarmed him. Someone runs into her from behind and she keels over, falling onto her knees on the ground. she glances up, her hair knocked loose from the force. It falls into her eyes as she searches again for Elvis. She can't see anything, her vision blurred as people continue to sprint past her. She raises her arms by her head to protect herself from the onslaught of people which seemingly never ceases. She jerks back as someone’s hands wrap tightly around her wrists.

“Birdie! Birdie! Are ya alright?”

She glances up to see Elvis and nods as he helps her stand. Relief washes over her at the sensation of being in his arms, but it fades quickly as three times as many people flock toward them. Before she knows it, they're surrounded by police officers, one of which grabs harshly onto her bicep. She fights against him, her fingers slipping from Elvis’.

“Get the fuck off me!” he yells as he tries to fight off the policemen who have grabbed onto him.

As hard as Bird tries, she can't stop her fingers from slipping from Elvis' grasp and she whimpers, tears gathering in her eyes.

“Are you okay, Bird?” he yells as they drag him away. “Birdie!”

The policeman is dragging her toward a car into which Vernon and Gladys are also being ushered. She pulls against his uniform but Elvis gestures toward her and his mother.

“Get in the car! Mama, you gets in the car! Birdie, get in the car!” he shouts, pointing toward it.

Bird screams in anger as they push Elvis into his car but she's cut off when the exact same thing happens to her. The officers shut the doors and she's stuck. She can't see him from where sh's been imprisoned. The driver slams on the gas pedal and takes off toward who knows where. She glances over at Gladys, just now realizing that tears have been streaming down her face. She can feel them drying in the air.

She notices that Gladys is crying too and drops her hand down to hers. She squeezes her fingers as they both weep silently. Bird scoots closer to Gladys and rests her head on her shoulder. The ride is quiet but tense; no one knows what to say or if there’s anything worth saying. They finally pull up to Graceland and everyone shuffles inside. Elvis isn’t there.

Bird wanders into the kitchen to get everyone some water but Gladys grabs ahold of a vodka bottle instead. Bird knows she should stop her, but she doesn’t have the energy or the heart to do so. She can’t say she blames Gladys.

The sound of the front door slamming sends Gladys running out of the kitchen. She yells for Elvis but Bird hears no answer. She remains inside the room, scared of what she might see if she leaves the safety of the ignorance the kitchen is blessing her with. She takes a sip of water, her hand shaking violently as she raises the glass to her mouth. After spilling a little on her blouse, she slams the glass down and takes a few deep breaths. She hears muffled voices from the living room and hesitantly walks toward the sound. She keeps her eyes trained downward as she passes through the doorway. Someone has lit a fire in the fireplace.

She dares to raise her eyes and sees Elvis sitting on the couch with his guitar in his hands. He’s strumming some chords and murmuring a bit of a song. His hair is disheveled and his shirt is unbuttoned. She releases a relieved breath to see that he’s alive and unharmed for the most part. The firelight glows softly on his face, coloring him with a soft orange light.

Vernon, Gladys, and the Colonel are also there, all facing the fire in front of them with grave expressions. Elvis glances up, his blue eyes are black in the light. Bird approaches him, placing her hand on his cheek. He leans into her touch, his face drawn in a mixture of anger and sadness. He looks up at her with tears in his eyes and she falls onto the couch, grasping at him.

“No,” she hears Gladys say and turns to look at her. “There’s no way my baby’s goin to Germany for two years.”

Her breath catches in her throat and she looks back at Elvis. His eyes are trained on the flickering fire, his mouth fallen in a flat straight line.

“It is either the army or jail,” the Colonel says.

Elvis puts down his guitar and gets up, walking away from Bird. She can feel the creases forming on her forehead as her face screws up in confusion and anguish.

“There is something else. Vernon, they are pokin into your background,” he continues.

“We don't have nothin to be ashamed of,” Elvis shouts, turning to place his hands on Vernon's shoulder. “Now my daddy is a good man.”

“Yes, yes, but your papa did go to jail,” the Colonel answers. “you know them and their flashy headlines. Elvis the draft dodger, a family of delinquents.”

She watches as Elvis sits down next to his mother, wrapping his fingers around her head and pressing a kiss to her hair. She can’t do anything but listen, her hands lifelessly folded in her lap.

“We may never book another date or sell another record again. In my way of thinking the army could be a brand new start for all of us. Let them cut your hair. Prove to the world that he is a clean-cut all-American boy. You do your two years and when you come back I promise you I will have done everything I can to make you the biggest actor in Hollywood.”

Her eyebrows raise as she watches Elvis’ manager trod around the room. She feels intense hatred rising in her chest, anger and contempt accompanied by fear and frustration.

How could they do this? How could that stupid fat man let them do this to her love?

The Colonel continues to drone. Gladys begins to cry. Bird feels tears rising to her own cheeks but hers are hot, angry tears. They’re tears of hatred.

“It’s gonna be okay, mama," Elvis says, leaning down to hug his mother.

She watches Gladys lift the glass of alcohol to her mouth and her heart pangs. It's slamming against her chest, swollen with anxiety. She feels her heart rate increase and reaches out to clutch at the corner of the couch. Anger and fear are circling around her head like hungry vultures, just waiting to snap and eat her up inside. She can hear her heart pounding in her aching head. She reaches up and closes her eyes, twisting her fingers into her hair as she heaves breaths in and out. She hears muffled sounds but doesn’t have enough energy to listen to them until she feels Elvis’ hands on her shoulders. He pulls her fingers away from her face and she glances up at him with wide eyes.

“Birdie talk to me. You scarin me baby,” he says, glancing down at her.

Emotions overcome her. She rips herself away from his grasp and stands up, frantically glancing around at the other people in the room before taking off in a full sprint toward the door. She swings it open and steps outside, immediately squinting as cold rain spats into her eyes. She can hear a ruckus behind her as she can imagine the family is chasing after her. She hears Elvis’ voice growing closer and she just panics, running out into the freezing rain and toward the woods. It’s pitch black out, so dark that she can barely see where she's going until she happens to emerge by the roadside. She's crying now, tears streaming down her face and mixing with the water that falls from the sky. She wails and screams into the abyss, no one actually there to hear her agony. But she wouldn’t care if they were. She'd do this anyway. She shuffles alongside the road, no cars anywhere around, as she cries pathetically in the pouring rain.

“Bird!”

She can barely hear Elvis’ voice over the splashing sounds of the rain. He grabs onto her shoulders but she rips away, continuing to walk forward.

“Birdie, stop it! I know ya upset but this ain't no way to deal with it. You gonna hurt yourself or get lost or sick or somethin,” he shouts, reaching for her shoulder again.

When his fingers touch her body, she throws him off and then whirls around in a rage. She glares at him, throwing her arms up and pounding her fists against his chest repeatedly, over and over. He doesn’t do anything to fight her, just accepts the abuse. After a few minutes, she loses all energy and the anger finally dissolves into sadness.

She falls against him, totally limp in his arms. He pulls her closer to his body, wrapping his arms around her and holding her tightly against him. He backs into the grass where they'll both be safe and lowers himself to his knees, letting her melt onto his lap. She clutches onto his soaking wet clothes, sobbing into his shoulder. His fingers gently caress her head, moving rhythmically over her scalp again and again. His chin is pressed against her temple and he's enveloping as much of her as he possibly can in this position.

“I'm sorry, Birdie,” he shouts over the pattering rain. “I'm so sorry. I never meant for nunna this to happen. I never meant to hurt ya. I…I didn't want this for ya. This is why I tried to push you away cause I knew shit like this was gonna happen. I understand if you don't want me anymore and if yo-”

“Shut the fuck up,” she mumbles against him.

“What?”

"Shut the fuck up,” she lifts her head just enough to look up at him. “Why do ya think I'm cryin so fuckin much? Because I want you so badly. Because I can't live without you, Elvis. Because the thought of you not bein in my life…of dyin and never comin back-”

Her throat catches and she buries her head back into Elvis’ shoulder.

“Shhh…shhh,” he says, rocking her back and forth. “I'm comin back, baby. I'm comin back. I'd never leave ya. I'll never leave ya.”

After a few more minutes, she can’t tell whether she's cried herself out or not. The tears have mixed so much with the rain that she can’t tell much or feel much of anything anymore. She lazily glances up at the handsome man who holds her. He clenches his jaw and reaches down to caress her cheek. He presses a kiss to her forehead.

“Can I take ya back inside now, Birdie girl? I don’t want ya to get sick out here in the cold rain or none.”

She nods but when she tries to stand, she physically can’t make herself do so. If he’d let her, Bird would spend all eternity here rotting away in the rain, miserable and alone. Elvis barely hesitates, sweeping his arms underneath her and picking her up. He carries her bridal style. She locks her arms around his neck and buries her head in his shoulder. Her eyes close as he walks her back to the house and she disassociates, shutting out all of the input she possibly can.

The next thing she knows, she's back up in Elvis’ bedroom. He’s propping her on the bed so he can strip her down out of her wet clothes. She sits lifeless as he pulls off her soaked sweater and skirt, shoes and socks. He uses a towel to dry her off. His hands are impossibly warm on her freezing body as he fixes her up. He draws out an old shirt which he pulls over her head. Then, he uses his fingers to brush her hair from her face. His palms linger on her cheeks. Without realizing it, she leans into his touch. She feels weaker by the second.

He slides his thumbs underneath her chin and guides her head over to meet his gaze. She ogles at him with sad eyes as he crouches between her legs. He offers a small, sad smile as his fingers gently stroke her skin. A random coldness wafts through the room and she shivers unintentionally.

“You’re still cold,” he says, his eyebrows furrowing. He stands up and helps her climb under the covers. He strips out of his clothes quickly and she can’t help but smile at the sight of his beautiful round ass.

“Nice ass,” she says, trying to lighten the mood.

He turns to glance over his shoulder and then strikes a pose, flexing it for her. She giggles, pulling the covers over her face as heat flames into her skin. Her eyes widen as she feels him sliding in next to her, still naked, she can tell. His arms wrap around her, pulling her back against him. He nestles his face into the crook of her neck, his breath warm on her skin. She intuitively wiggles her butt back against him.

“Keep doin that mama and we gonna have to take this top off,” his voice is raspy and low, his whispers tickling her sensitive skin.

She just giggles, snuggling even closer to him. His skin is warm and soft against hers. She sighs happily, momentarily having forgotten what she was upset about. But in a moment of silence, it all comes flooding back to her. She turns around, lying on her back to grab at his fingers. She plays with them as she stares up at him in the darkness. He raises himself up on his elbow and looks back down at her, joining the game with her fingers.

“I love you,” she says quietly. “So much.”

“I know,” he says with a smile. “I love you too, Birdie, baby.”

Silence settles, her eyes flicking down to their intertwined fingers.

“You know I was thinkin, uh…” he chuckles, lifting his gaze to look around the room before dropping it back down to her. “Well, earlier I was just thinkin bout what a good mama you gonna make one day.”

She does a double take and laughs.

“What? Why would ya say that?”

“Well when you was talkin earlier, tellin me to follow my heart and listen to myself…I was just thinkin bout how wise y'are. You got such a level head and you’re so…so smart. Any person'd be lucky to raise their kids with you.”

“Elvis Aaron Presley, are you suggestin that we have children tonight? Cause if so, I need to know so I can escape as soon as possible.”

“Nah, mama, course not,” he laughs, dropping his head bashfully and sliding his fingers into hers, curling them over her knuckles. “But maybe…in two years when I get back…we could, I dunno…”

“Have babies then?” she finished his sentence, scooting her head closer to him under his raised arm. Even in the moonlight, she can see the hint of a smile on his face as he gazes down at her lovingly.

“Yeah.”

“And what other plans do ya have for us in the future, Mr. Presley?”

He places his other arm on the other side of her head, his body hovering over her. He tilts his head as he stares down at her.

“Well, I was also kinda thinkin maybe a nice party with all our friends and family. You could wear white and we could say how much we love each other in front of everybody. And then we can take a lil trip, somewhere we’ve ain't never been before, just the two of us. Together. And get started on those babies,” he leans down, brushing his lips against her nose before pressing a soft kiss to it. She giggles, her hands reaching up to rest on his chest.

"Sounds like a dream, Elvis,” she responds. “But…Germany's so far away and…two years? What if ya meet somebody who-”

“Stop that right now,” he says, shaking his head. “Don’t talk like that. I ain’t gonna meet nobody who can compare to you, Birdie.”

He wraps his fingers around hers and brings her palm to his lips, pressing a wet hot kiss to her skin.

“Listen, I’m comin back for ya. And you gonna be here waitin for me, aren’t ya?”

She nods, drawing a circle against his chest with her pointer finger.

“Here,” he whispers and leans to the side.

He carefully slides one of the rings off his finger. It’s a simple silver band, one that she's noticed he wears often. He pulls it over his knuckle and grabs her hand, slipping it onto her thumb, the only finger it’ll fit on. When he's finished, he reinserts his fingers between hers.

“Now everybody’ll know ya taken. And you can remember me while I’m gone,” he says.

“You need somethin of mine now,” she says and rolls out from underneath him.

She steps over to the black dress and fiddles with the pockets to pull out the ribbon that was fastened at her throat. She grabs onto the jewel sewed on and rips it off, placing it on top of the dress. She hops back onto the bed and holds out the ribbon for him.

"Take this.”

“You ruined ya dress,” he says but takes the ribbon from her hands anyway. She shrugs as he wraps the ribbon around his fingers.

“Only paid half price for it. Now I'm even since I only have half the dress left."

He smiles, lifting the ribbon up to his lips and pressing a kiss to it.

“I’ll keep it safe, darlin, don't you worry. Come 'ere.”

He shifts so that he’s laying on his back, head propped up by the headboard. She snuggles close to him, nestled into his side. She places her hand on his warm chest, running her fingers over the tufts of hair that grow there. His arms are wrapped protectively around her and he leans down to kiss the top of her head.

“We gonna be aright, Birdie baby. I promise with everything that I have. We gonna make it.”

─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

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