Fever

Viva Las Vegas

You find yourself laying in Elvis's bed a few hours later, listening to him get ready for bed in the attached bathroom. You stare off into space, hands tucked under your face as Elvis climbs into bed beside you. His arms wrap around you tightly from behind.

"Elvis?" You prompt. He hums in response. You feel his breath on the back of your neck.

"How do you feel about Kerry being. . ."

"Different?" Elvis finishes for you.

You sigh.

"Yeah."

Elvis props himself up on his elbow, and you turn so you're lying on your back, facing up at him. He strokes your hair.

"Doll, it's none of my business. He's your brother and you love him and that's all that I need to know."

Your chest tightens with affection for Elvis, heart beating so fast you feel like it's going to burst out of your chest.

"Thank you." You say quietly. You mean to say more, mean to tell him every feeling that's racing through your body, but it's all you can manage.

It's enough.

Elvis leans down to kiss you sweetly.

"Anytime, babydoll. Now lets get some sleep, we've got a long week ahead of us."

You frown, turning so you can nuzzle into his chest. You fall asleep wrapped safely in each other's arms.

*

*

*

The next morning is spent hastily packing suitcases, making calls to your landlord, and sending someone to give a key to your old apartment to Ruth.

You're barely dressed as you hold the phone to your ear, giving a long list of chores to Ruth as you frantically pull on a skirt.

"And Candice's plants have to be watered at least twice a week, the one by the window droops if it's dehydrated." You say, zipping up the skirt.

You can hear the scratching of a pen on the other line.

"I got it all written down, honey." Ruth answers, nonchalant as ever. "You two go have fun galavanting in Vegas, send me pictures!"

You smile, perpetually fond of your elderly neighbor.

"Or course, Ruth. Thanks again for doing all of this, we'd be a wreck without you."

She laughs.

"I know it! You're welcome, Y/N. Say hello to that Elvis fellow for me!"

And with that, she hangs up the phone.

You're only in a bra and skirt when Elvis bangs open the door, and you jump as you set down the phone.

"Gotta be at the airport in thirty minutes-" he cuts himself off, eyes trailing down your figure. Despite his words, he saunters into the room with a sly grin on his lips.

"Ain't you a sight for sore eyes."

You roll your eyes, reaching across the bed for your shirt.

"My eyes are up here, Elvis."

You move to him, gripping his chin in one hand.

He grins.

"You excited?"

You sigh, turning to put on the shirt.

"I'd be more excited under different circumstances."

Elvis hums.