Elvis One Shots/Imagines

Patch it Up - Elvis

A/N: request by @lovingelvisp

You watched from the wings as Elvis sang the last few lines of Can't Help Falling in Love, falling to his knees with his arms outstretched beside him. His voice was raw and deep, filling the room of the International Hotel as the audience watched in awe. The golden curtain came down slowly, and he eagerly thanked his audience.

After it landed, Elvis stayed on his knees, clutching the mic to his chest for a few haggard breaths. You smiled at your husband and heard the roar of the applause. You saw him smile to himself and hoped he knew how loved he was, not just by you but by the world.

Then he stood up, his body swaying slightly. He lifted an arm to wave to you, then his face fell and he crumpled to the floor. His body was a white heap and you ran to his side along with all the other members of the band and crew. Elvis's eyes had rolled back in his head so it was only the whites and his breathing was uneven. Someone brought an ice bucket nearby and they lifted his head to dunk him in it.

He didn't react at first to the cold water. Your heart leapt in your throat, fear running through you as you held his hand tightly.

"Come on, baby. Be alright, baby," you kept saying over and over, needing him to hear every word of it.

After the second time they submerged his head, Elvis came back up sputtering. His eyes were wild as he took in his surroundings, lips parted and flushed from the cold. You instantly kissed both of his cheeks and held him close to you, needing him after what felt like a very painful 20 seconds.

Elvis was gasping for air, but he slowly started to sit up and take in everything. The audience still cheered from behind the curtain, without a clue that the king had fallen. Some of the men on the crew helped Elvis to stand. He still seemed out of it, but he complied and leaned on them as they walked him out. You followed after them.

They brought him to his suite upstairs and called Dr Nick to take a look at him. You sat beside him on the bed and rubbed his arms. He was more clear now and seemed very confused as to his surroundings.

"Ain't I got a show?" He asked, going to sit up.

"Shh, baby," you said, "you just rest, okay? The shows over and you fainted."

His brows crinkled, "why'd I do that?"

"I don't know, honey. That's what Dr Nick is for."

As if right on cue, Dr Nick stepped through the doors of the suite. He was efficient as he took Elvis's vitals and examined him closely.

"Exhaustion," he said dryly.

Your brows went up, "exhaustion?"

"Overworked. His body can't keep up."

"I'm right here," Elvis says.

Dr Nick gives him a pointed look, "your body can't keep up. Rest up, Mr Presley."

Without so much as a helpful word, Dr Nick left and you had a million questions on your tongue. Elvis tried to get up from the bed but you put your hand on his chest. He rolled his eyes.

"Baby, he's full of it, I ain't exhausted."

You frowned and pushed him gingerly to the bed, "Elvis Aaron Presley, you will go to bed right now if it's the last thing you do. Doctors orders."

"You hate Dr Nick."

"Doesn't matter! You are exhausted, you've been working like crazy for works and your body is down. Please just go to sleep, let's spend these next few days relaxing."

Elvis grumbled but did get under the covers. You went and turned the lights off, then crawled in next to him. Despite his complaints about not being exhausted, Elvis didn't wake up until 8pm the next day. He slept for almost 17 hours straight.

When he woke up, you were on the couch with the channel clicked to one of his old movies, Jailhouse Rock. Elvis stumbled over to the couch and sat next to you. You patted your lap and he laid his head on it. You brought your fingers to his hair and played with it, scratching his scalp. Within an hour, he'd fallen asleep again.

You did all you could to care for Elvis, even though he insisted he was fine. You had room service bring up fried chicken, you always found the best channel for him, and you tucked him in. Elvis was slowly making a recovery.

"Where are you going?" You asked the next morning when he shuffled towards the bathroom.

"Shower."

"You need help?" You asked, pushing off the couch and walking toward him.

"Help? I'm a grown man, Y/N."

"I know that baby," you said, taking the towel from him. "But you're tired and I want to take care of you. Plus, you get to see my boobs."

Elvis finally agreed and you ran the shower, leaning against the wall as you tested until it was the right temperature. Thankfully, this was one of those fancy showers that had a seat and you were going to have Elvis sit there so you could wash his hair.

He slowly stripped and you did as well, stepping in first and helping. He sat on the seat with a sigh. He didn't want to admit it but these past few weeks had been total hell for him, it was nice to calm down and take in life.

You lathered his hair with shampoo, taking the time to truly massage his scalp in that way he loved. Then you rinsed it off and conditioned, all the while delivering soft kisses along his shoulders, neck, and back when you could reach it. Elvis melted against your touch, eyes closed as he relished in the feeling. Then you turned the water off, stepped out and held a big fluffy towel open to wrap him into.

You wrapped yourself and led him out. The two of you got dressed in casual pajamas, and you got onto the bed and told him to come lay with you. He leaned his head on your breasts, hand coming to lay on your stomach.

"Thank you," he said softly, before falling asleep.

You kissed his wet curls, "of course baby."