Elvis One Shots/Imagines

Pocketful of Rainbows - Elvis

A/N: is this idea lame? Cute? Who knows. Also totally not written because I wanted another excuse to write about the song Crawfish...

You weren't the luckiest person by nature. You certainly weren't what most would deem cursed or unlucky, but when things could go your way, more often than not they didn't. So when you tried to carry a tray of 8 drinks that you've carried before around a corner you've crossed thousands of times, surely there wasn't anything luck could do to hurt you. But your manager, Robert, had a permanent stick lodged far up his rectum. He came storming out of his office so fast you stumbled into him and the glasses went flying to the ground, crashing. They broke into sparkling fragments that reflected Robert's angry red face from each angle.

He tore you apart. It didn't matter that you were in that part of the diner where customers could still see you. You were an idiot, the worst of the worst to have possibly dropped so many glasses at this exact moment. And though you'd been a good server by most accounts and only called out once in 7 months, you were fired on the spot.

Lucinda tried to calm you in the parking lot, rubbing your back and saying Robert didn't mean a word of it. He was just angry. If you came back the next day he'd either rehire you or forget he fired you in the first place.

But luck wasn't on your side then, either. Because when you came back, Robert had added your photo to the list of people not allowed in at the front. It was full of thieves and dine-and-dashers, and you. He'd scribbled devil horns on your face.

So you left quickly, humiliated and exhausted from the lack of sleep the night before. You didn't feel you'd done anything wrong, yet here you were being punished. You supposed you should try to find another job, try to do something with your now very free time. But you couldn't bring yourself to it.

You walked down the street, passing shoddy apartments and small storefronts. You weren't paying much attention to anything you did. All thoughts seemed consumed with this weight of bad luck.

"I don't worry,"

The voice made you stop in your tracks, pulling you from your thoughts. You didn't know where it was from though the words sounded familiar. You stood idly in the streets, your skirt floating gently in the breeze, as you strained to listen.

"Whenever skies are gray above
Got a pocketful of rainbows
Got a heart full of love."

It was only then you noticed the door of a diner open, though a closed sign was flipped in the window. A young man was inside, seemingly alone, and wiping down the counters. You saw him take a deep breath and continue.

"Mister Heartache
I've found a way to make him leave
Got a pocketful of rainbows
Got a star up in my sleeve."

He was handsome. More handsome than any man had any right to be. With black hair slicked high on his head, a tan complexion, and the most perfect pair of pink lips that opened for a silky, sultry voice. Even in such an innocent song you were positively entranced.

"Kiss me extra tender
Hold me extra tight
'Cause I'm savin' your sweetness
For a lonely night, aye,"

The man quickly took the rag from the counter and moved it side to side with a little laugh as he continued with the, "Aye, aye, aye, aye, aye, aye, aye, aye."

He continued with his chores, unknowing of his secret specter. He was singing for himself. There was no audience, no fans and no crowd. You feared showing yourself would ruin the magic of the moment. He was captivating and he didn't even know it.

"No more teardrops
Now that I've found a love so true
I got a pocketful of rainbows
Got an armful of you."

He swept all around the diner as he repeated the chorus, and before he finished he looked up towards the door. You watched with bated breath, and felt like he was singing this directly to you.