Elvis One Shots/Imagines

Young and Beautiful - Elvis

A/N: pov - you're me and every time you watch an Elvis movie you imagine yourself as the lead girl so now you have to write a fanfic to satisfy the need that will never be filled. Featuring Jailhouse Rock

When you got the call, you dropped the dishes you were holding. Your shoe was still scuffed from the broken china scratching it. Vernon wasn't very specific, he just needed you to get there as fast as possible. He told you the address, and you practically jumped into your car.

Fifteen minutes later and you were in the hospital waiting room with Colonel Tom Parker and Gladys, who was practically pulling at her hair from anxiety. They explained to you that an over eager fan had accidentally elbowed Elvis on the neck while trying to get his attention, which damaged his windpipe. Elvis struggled to breathe for minutes before the ambulance arrived to take care of him. Gladys wanted to kill the fan, Tom wanted to make sure he could sing, and you just wanted him to be alright.

It seemed to take the doctor ages but when he finally came out and explained the situation, you felt a rush of relief that the operation was successful. Tom was angry that Elvis might not be able to sing, but that didn't matter to you. The doctor led the three of you back to Elvis's room, where he laid on the bed with a large bandage and cast wrapped round his neck.

Tom Parker hobbled his way over there, putting a hand on Elvis's arm and asking him a series of questions. The doctor said it would be best for Elvis to not speak, at least not for the next few days.

"I'm gonna kill that little girl," Gladys said, rushing to pull Elvis into her arms. The hospital bed limited some of that, so she took a chair and sat it right by so she could hold onto his arm.

Elvis shook his head at that but Gladys continued, "I know you wanna be kind, booby, but ain't no girl gettin away with hurtin my baby."

Elvis's lips moved like he was trying to speak but nothing was coming out. You watched and said what you thought he was trying to say, "accident?"

He nodded, pointing to you but Gladys just rolled her eyes and hugged Elvis tighter. You didn't like Gladys all that much, but you put that aside to make sure Elvis was alright. You were at the end of the bed and you leaned over to rub his feet a little, just to help relax him.

"Are you in any pain?"

He shook his head and you smiled.

"Do you need another pillow? I don't want you hurting your neck."

He shook his head again, making a gesture towards the cast like he couldn't get much worse - which made you roll your eyes. Elvis smiled, his blue eyes penetrating yours. He was calm and relaxed despite the circumstances, so you could be too.

The next few weeks were slow and a little frightening, but you put on a brave face because Elvis needed it. He came home after a week in the hospital. You stayed in the guest bedroom at Graceland, unable to just abandon him during this time. And as loving as Gladys is, she's a tad overbearing. You tried to step in to take care of him as much as possible. Elvis seemed to appreciate the moments when it was just you and him.

He didn't speak until two weeks after that, and it was hoarse and deep. His doctor had recommended exercises for the throat to slowly get his voice back into regular work, and you made him do them. Even when he thought it was silly.

"Elvis," you said firmly, hitting a few piano notes to get his attention. You thought going up and down scales might help him. He seemed determined to do anything but what you wanted him to do.

"I know it's stupid, baby, but we gotta do it. Follow me," you plugged your nose with your fingers, drawing out a high pitched, "shoe-ee!"

Elvis stuck his tongue out at you and you poked it. He sent you a teasing look of offensive, before trying it in his own octave. His voice was still rough and uneven - it was a little more sexy than you'd like to admit - but it was progress. You smiled, encouraging him to try all sorts that helped to relax his throat and get him back into the habit.

Within two weeks of that, Elvis was back to speaking regularly and as comfortably as before. The doctor said once the ball was rolling on his recovery, it wouldn't stop so he was getting better at a relatively fast pace.

But the matter of singing seemed to come up time and time again. Tom was insistent that Elvis start to sing just like he always had, but Elvis wasn't too sure. He was nervous that pushing his throat too hard could cause more damage to the recovering muscle. You noticed he even seemed a little scared to sing, as though his whole voice was going to change from this one instance. You never pushed him to, not this early. Of course you wanted to hear his voice, everyone did, but it was for him to decide.

A month later, you found Elvis by himself at the piano. He was softly singing some scales, warning his voice up. You stood by the door and listened to him, but when it got time to sing an actual song he paused. Scared.

You walked in, sat by him at the piano, and played the starting notes again. He leaned into your body, taking a deep breath.

"What if it ain't good baby?"

"It will be."

"And if it ain't?"

"You're a man of many talents, Elvis. One hiccup isn't going to be everything." You kissed his cheek, playing the notes again.

He took a deep breath, and started off very quietly,

"You're so young and beautiful and I love you so
Your lips so red, your eyes that shine
Shame the stars that glow."

His voice was a little patchy and rough, similar to what it had been when his speaking started. But it grew with each note, climbed to the levels of confidence you knew he had as he sang.

"So fill these lonely arms of mine
And kiss me tenderly
Then you'll be forever young
And beautiful to me."

His hands joined you in the piano, and the same Elvis you knew and loved started to come back. As always, music was the key to his soul. The song brought back his confidence, and he leaned into it. Passion for his craft overruled any anxieties or trepidations.

"You're so young and beautiful, you're everything I love
Your angel smile, your gentle touch
Are all I'm dreaming of."

You felt a warmth spread through you as you just watched him sing. His cheeks were a little pink, his black hair all messy. Elvis always seemed to squint a little when he got really into a song, and the blue eyes were gone beneath his lashes. His body shook with the music. He was everything.

"Oh take this heart I offer you
And never set me free
Then you'll be forever young
And beautiful to me."

He played the last note, turning to you with a smile. You kissed him. It seemed to surprise him, if only for a second, because he deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue into your mouth to taste you. Then he parted, smiling widely.

"Thank you baby."

"I didn't do anything," you laughed.

He hugged you, "you've done the most."