Loud, obnoxious knocking wakes you up, the arm slung around your naked body hugging you tight. You groan a little as you wake up, turning in Elvis's hold.

He's got his face pressed into your neck, trying to block out the insistent knocking.

"Did you put up the do not disturb sign?" You yawn, trying to fix your wild bed head. Elvis just grumbles, rolling to press his face into he pillow.

You slip out of bed, legs a little shaky as you stand. It makes you flush, a reminder of last night's activities.

You shuffle over to where Elvis's t-shirt lies on the floor, pulling it on and making your way to the door.

You pull it open an inch, peeking out of it with squinted eyes.

It's Jerry, and he looks a little taken aback at the sight of your face.

"Oh, sorry Y/N." He clears his throat. "Elvis's got a press conference in two hours, he up yet?"

You look back towards the bed where Elvis is spread out like a starfish, hugging your pillow to his face. The comforter covers his lower half, and you blush.

"I'll get him up, Jerry." You say, rubbing sleep from your eyes with a small smile. Jerry looks grateful, obviously having been stressed about the matter.

"You're the best, Y/N." His eyes dart down to your collarbone and he flushes.

"You uh, you might wanna wear something with a high neck tonight, by the way." You furrow your brow in confusion as Jerry leaves with a small wave.

It's only when you close the door and take a look in the bathroom mirror do you see the myriad of hickey's Elvis has left on your neck and chest. You sigh, moving into the bedroom and picking up a displaced pillow.

Without warning you bring the pillow down on Elvis's sleeping body, the older man whining like a kid as he rolls over on his side.

"What was that for?"

You giggle, settling on your knees on the edge of the bed.

"I'm your alarm clock, baby. You've got a press conference in two hours."

Elvis checks the clock, eyes widening when he sees it's nearly noon.

"Ah shit," he sits up, covers falling into his lap. He looks handsome like this, you think. You want nothing more than to press him back onto the bed and settle in his lap, but you know you need to get ready as well.

Elvis swings his feet over the edge of the bed, stretching his back with a groan.

"You really did a number on me, girl." he teases, and you roll your eyes with a smile.

You turn, making your way to the on suite bathroom to get ready. Elvis isn't too far behind, his arms wrapping around your waist from behind.

"You look real pretty in my t-shirt, Y/N." His voice is low, making you shiver a little.

"I might just have to keep it, then." You say, your hands coming to cover his. Elvis kisses at your neck a little. This reminds you of the marks he left on you the night before, and you whirl around in his arms.

"Thanks for these, by the way." You say playfully, pushing at his chest. He chuckles, not letting you escape his embrace. It drives you crazy how much stronger he is than you, the height and size difference turning you on like nothing else.

"Purple's your color, what can I say?" Elvis jokes, and you hum as you lean in to kiss him.

"We really have to get ready, baby." You murmur as you pull away. Elvis throws his head back with a groan.

"Why don't you and I just run away together, hm?" He says, and you struggle to free yourself from the hug he has you locked in. You giggle as he only tightens his grip.

"You and me on the run together, us against the world baby!" Elvis exclaims theatrically.

"You're crazy!" You giggle, finally making your way out of his arms.

"Crazy about you!"

You roll your eyes, snatching up a dress from your suitcase.

"Go get dressed, Elvis!" You say as you head for the bathroom.

"Yes dear!"

That lovesick grin is still stuck to your face as you dress, taking the time to brush and fix your hair as Elvis gets ready in the other room. You feel like you're on cloud nine, your heart bursting with affection for the older man.

"He loves me." You whisper to your reflection, dopey smile crossing you face. You can't help it. It's the first time you've really felt this way.

*

*

*

A few hours later the two of you find yourselves in the hotel conference room, you and Jerry sitting off to the side while Elvis, the Colonel, and the hotel manager sit around the large conference table. There's a small crowd of reporters and photographers laid out before them, and you can always tell when a camera flashes your way- they aren't exactly subtle.

"How do you like Texas, Mr. Presley?" A reporter asks, and Elvis flashes that charming smile, camera's flashing all the while.

"It's real nice, the people here are very accommodating."

"How long do you plan on staying?"

Elvis clears his throat.

"Just through the weekend, then we're headed to Arizona for a few days." He answers coolly.

You cross one leg over the other, pulling the hem of your dress down. You can tell he's a little bored of everything already, aimlessly playing with one of his rings as reporters shoot of one question after the other. You find yourself smiling a little, like you always do when you look at Elvis. You're thinking of other way's you can keep him entertained.

"Elvis, you and your newest girlfriend seem attached at the hip," Your head shoots up at the woman's voice, eyes falling onto a reporter with pinned back hair and a blue pantsuit. "Will she be continuing to travel with you during this tour?"

Elvis smiles, a real genuine smile that leaves you giddy.

"As long as she doesn't get too bored of me, I'd love to have her stay for the whole tour." He turns toward you, and you smile back brightly. The crowd chuckles. The questions go on.

You're a little distracted, not noticing the reporter making her way beside you a moment later. You're a bit startled when she addresses you.

"Can't be very exciting for you then, Miss Y/N." She addresses you, which leaves you a bit flustered. "What with you waiting around for him in hotel rooms and all. If anything, it will give you plenty of time to write that uh, friend of yours off in Vietnam."

You sit up, taken aback.

"Excuse me?" You try to keep your tone even.

"It's all over the papers, surely you must know." She says, adjusting her glasses nonchalantly. Elvis says something to make the crowd laugh, but you're miles away, not even paying attention.

"I was comforting a friend in a time of need, if you really must know." You tell her, trying not to snap.

The nerve of this woman.

She smiles condescendingly, and you notice her lipstick is cracked around the edges.

"How old are you, anyway? You're a bit young for Mr. Presley, don't you think?" Now you know for a fact she isn't just fishing for topics to put in her newest magazine column.

This bitch is looking for a fight.

"I'm twenty-two." You say. "And I don't really think it's any of your business who Elvis decides to date." You tack on, cocking your head to the side.

The reporter chuckles a little, putting her hands up.

"I'm just curious. It's a little strange that someone so young is able to even relate to somebody like Elvis, is all. It's my personal opinion that he could use the company of a more mature woman-"

"Yeah, well nobody asked for you opinion, lady." Jerry buts in from beside you, and you look at him gratefully. He gestures to one of the bodyguard's standing at the exit door, trying not to distract from the rest of the conference. The woman frowns as she's escorted out, looking back over her shoulder as she's led away.

You relax a little, letting go of the hem of your dress where it was clenched tight in your fist. You look out at the crowd of reporters, too enraptured with a story Elvis is telling to even notice what's happening. This puts you at ease. The last thing you want is more attention on you.

You turn to Jerry with a grateful smile.

"Thanks."

He waves you off.

"It's no problem, women like her are always hangin' around, trying like Hell to get a piece of Elvis."

This lessens you're moment of ease. Would you be spending the rest of this tour fending off other women, trying your best to stake your claim to Elvis?

You hope not.

You spend the rest of the conference lost in thought, thinking about how the rest of the tour may go. Pretty soon Elvis and the rest of the crew are standing, waving goodbye to the crowd as you all make your way to the exits. Elvis's arm finds your waist easily.

"That wasn't too bad, was it baby?" He says.

You give him a tight lipped smile.

"Not too bad." You lie.

"Jerry's got you and Candice front row seats tonight, you excited?" Elvis asks, and you nod, genuine this time.

"I love watching you preform." You tell him, and his arm tightens around you.

"Want you to wear that pink dress I got you, that strapless one, remember?" He says, and you nod.

"Course I remember, as soon as I tried it on you were trying to take it off!" You tease, and he laughs, leading you down the hallway.

When you finally reach your suite, he kisses you long and sweet.

"I gotta get ready for rehearsal, you'll be waving from the front row, right?"

You can see that glimpse of anxiety he always seems to get before a show, and you cup his cheek in your hand.

"I'll be cheering you on the loudest."

Elvis smiles, leaning in for another kiss.

"That's my girl, my angel."

You kiss him once more before opening the suite door, waving him off as he takes off down the hall.

You wait until he's fully out of sight before closing the door and leaning against it, a sigh leaving your lips as the weight of what happened this afternoon really hits you.

You think about all of the women that will be out in that crowd tonight, many of them older and more attractive than you find yourself. You think about how many more states you've got to travel to, how many other fanatical women are waiting for Elvis in those states. You know it's stupid, but you can't help but feel anxious.

With a shake of your head, you move to the phone, making quick work of calling Candice's room.

"Hello?"

"Candice," you begin, turning to the open closet. You see the pink strapless dress hanging there, and an idea comes to you.

You smile.

"We got work to do."