Elvis One Shots/Imagines

Blue Suede Shoes - Elvis

A/N: He's supposed to be drunk in this one so some of his words might not actually look like words and that's the point. Picture a thick, slurred southern accent and it should help.

"Lord have mercy," you mumbled under your breath as you half dragged Elvis through the front doors of Graceland.

Elvis wasn't a big drinker, he said he often felt like he was doing his mom a disservice if he drank. But that night, he had gotten in some sort of spat with Colonel Tom Parker. When called asking if you wanted to have a drink, you of course said yes. But two hours later, you're lugging a drunk Elvis into his home.

When you got inside, you gingerly shoved Elvis against the wall, holding him there with your hand. You were afraid if you took your hand away he would tumble to the floor. Then you closed door.

"Baby, baby, baby, baby, baby," Elvis began to sing one of his songs, hitching his voice up at the last 'baby.' But strong mix of gin, whiskey and a healthy amount of beer made his higher notes sound more like sad hiccups.

"Of course you would try to sing in a time like this," you chuckle. "Alright, come on big boy."

You throw his arm around your shoulder to help support some of his weight then the two of you begin to slowly ascend the stairs. Elvis was muttering a variety of lyrics from different songs, some his, some covers and some lacking any real sense.

At the middle of the staircase he broke away for a moment to lean on the rail and proclaim in a slurred voice, "you ain't nothin' but a hound dog!"

"Come on," you said, pulling him back to you.

"He's cry in' all the time," Elvis moaned.

"I know, baby, I know. Let's get you to bed."

The last few steps were particularly the most dangerous because in Elvis's drunk state, he had no concept that he was on different levels. He tried to dance in his usual style to one of the songs he was mumbling. The carpeted stairs caught under his feet and he slid a few steps but, thankfully, didn't get hurt. After what felt like a perilous journey, you'd gotten Elvis to his room.

"Come mama I wanna play house witchuuuuu..." Elvis wailed the lyric like he was a dog, and you rolled your eyes at his dramatics. The man was ever the entertainer, even if it was just himself.

Here came the hard part - preparing him for bed. Part of you knew that you could leave him on the bed fully clothed, but it didn't feel like a kind thing to do. Elvis should get some comfortable sleep before he wakes up with one hell of a hangover.

Elvis ran to his bed upon seeing it like a child, falling onto his back and creating little snow Angel patterns. You walked over to him, putting a knee on the bed so you could lift him to a sitting position.

"Sit up, big boy, gotta take your coat off."

Elvis sat up and looked right at you, holding his arms in a T pose to, theoretically, aid in the removal of his suit jacket. He began to chuckle to himself as you pulled the jacket off. When you went to put it away, you asked why.

"You eva thank Cap'in Marvel eva stood in one of dem T poses?" His accent was thick as hell when he was drunk, and you had to think over his words for a few moments before you realized what he was saying.

"The superhero?"

"Yeah with one of dem capes," he said, falling back on the bed. "To the rock of eternity."

You didn't know what he was talking about, but you let him continue. Elvis rambled on about Captain Marvel and all the adventures he took. He commented on the way the lightening bolt looked so cool on his chest, Elvis loves lightening bolts you know.