Elvis One Shots/Imagines

Baby, Let's Play House - Elvis

A/N: this might be corny but I love it, might do a part 2

You hated the heat. Loathed it. Yes, you were born and bred in Southern America but once it got over 95 degrees Fahrenheit, you could not stand being outside. It was sticky and uncomfortable, and you were always sweating and leaving stains without realizing until you got home. You had to have your legs shaved because your mother would kill you if you didn't, and you had the urge to chop off the entirety of your hair every July.

Your father was officially retiring from his job, and per your mother's wishes the family was throwing a large get together for the whole neighborhood. This meant that you and your brothers and sisters had to clean up the entire house, weed both the front and back yards, mow the lawns, prepare the salads and clean yourselves up to then spend 6 hours entertaining guests who were sure to ruin all that hard work. No matter. This was the South, and that meant gentile politeness until the very end.

Your brother had woken you up at 7am to get all that ready, and by 4pm you were last in the shower to clean from all the sweat and dirt. You hurried along, washing your hair as fast as you could and prayed to any and every god above that the body soap you used actually worked and smelled good and you didn't waste $30. But that was another rant for another time.

When you got out, you braided your hair to try and hide the fact that it was wet, then put on a pair of blue gingham shorts with a white top. Typically you wore dresses, but given the plans of the evening more mobility seemed like a smart idea.

It was now 5pm and some guests had slowly started filtering in through the front door towards the yard. You greeted Stacy Hargrove and her son Paul, you complimented Roger Best for his peanut butter and chocolate brownies that looked a little worse for the wear, and played with the Simon twins for a bit. More people started coming and you tried to say hello to everyone but it wasn't easy. Eventually you just concentrated on enjoying the party and eating the barbecue because - priorities.

You snuck an extra pulled pork sandwich and sat on the front porch swing away from the party. You just needed a second to enjoy the setting sun and your stolen snack.

"That looks good," a deep voice said and you gasped at the suddenness of it.

With a hand on your chest, you said, "you scared me."

The boy apologized and you took the time to look at him. He was handsome and tall, with full pink lips that were quirked up in a slightly mischievous smile. His striking blue eyes were lined with kohl and he had lashes you were envious of. He looked vaguely familiar but you didn't know his name.

"I'm sorry," he held his hands up apologetically and you noticed he had a Pepsi bottle in his hand. That made you trust him a little more.

"No, no, it's okay." You paused, "I'm sorry I don't think we've met, I'm Y/N."

He stuck his hand out and shook yours, "I'm Elvis. My pops works with yours."

You nodded, biting into your sandwich and remembering what he'd said earlier. You tore off a piece and offered it to him, and he accepted, sliding into the seat next to you. He smelled good, like a sweet floral piece of wood. Maybe that sounded a bit odd, but it smelled good on him.

Elvis offered his Pepsi, and you took a drink of it. You loved Pepsi.

"This party's been nice," Elvis commented as he bit into the sandwich.

You shrugged, "I s'pose. Hasn't been too bad."

"You don't like it?"

You leaned back on the swing, feeling it move slightly. "When you prepare for it for like 10 hours, it's always a little underwhelming."