And When You're Celebrating Your Night...

Rating: R

Fandom: EDM

Ships: current!Skrillmau5

Warnings: almost-sex and sadness

Nothing has really sat right with Joel for the past few months, but tonight- tonight feels like a dream. 

It’s strange, because Joel usually hates award events. He hates the press and the interviews and the paparazzi and the red carpet and the noise. But tonight none of that bothers him- not even one music journalist has stopped him for an interview, not a single camera flash has blinded him.

It feels too good to be true. 

As Joel walks down the red carpet, he feels light and unencumbered by his mau5head; he normally has to wear it to these formal events to even be recognized as who he is, but since he’s here as half of Kx5 and not as Deadmau5, he’s not forced to wear it. It feels like a breath of fresh air. 

That said, he wonders where Ryan’s gone off to. Probably got dragged into an interview. Sucker.

Joel’s not really one for social events like this, never has been, and now his assigned extrovert isn’t at an arm’s length, he isn’t really sure what to do with himself. Normally what he does is follow Ryan like a duckling until he gets roped into a conversation. 

But eventually, through some sheer magic, he finds himself in a group of people. He knows Calvin and Ellie, sort of. The others he isn’t really that familiar with. There’s a Black girl with light hair and curves that Playboy bunnies would be jealous of, and a couple of British men who look like they know each other very well, but Joel doesn’t know any of their names. And then another man joins the group, sort of short-statured with dark hair tied into a bun and a sharp-pointed beard. Joel feels like he knows him even before he turns to one of the Brits and says something. Joel doesn’t really hear the words he’s saying, but that voice. He knows that voice. 

“Sonny.”

Sonny turns his head to look at Joel, and there’s a little glimmer in his eyes, something Joel can’t really read. It feels like it’s a good sign, but Sonny’s kind eyes could make anyone feel that way, even if he hated their guts. But then, he smirks. 

The group dwindles bit by bit as the awards ceremony itself draws closer. First it’s Calvin and Ellie who leave, then the Black girl checks her phone and says she’s gotta go. Then one of the Brits ask Sonny if he wants to go in yet, and Sonny turns to him, then looks to Joel and says, “Not yet. You go in without me.”

It nearly takes Joel’s breath away, and suddenly it’s just him and Sonny, under the lights and eyes of the whole world, it feels. Sonny’s face softens into a content smile as he closes the gap between himself and Joel. 

“It’s been a while. How have you been?”

Joel wants to say that he hasn’t been great. But why would he say that? He’s not having the worst night. He has Meowingtons and Miss Nyancat waiting for him at home. He has this nagging feeling of anxiety and dread pricking at him, but it’s the kind that doesn’t go away no matter what.

“Fine,” he supposes.

“That’s good,” Sonny offers, with the sweetest smile on his face. He takes one of Joel’s hands in both of his, and Joel feels electric. Sonny’s touch really is like that of an angel- just the way it’s always been.

“We should go somewhere more private to catch up. Away from all the cameras.”

Joel feels his heart lurch in his chest at just the implication, but surely Sonny doesn’t mean it that way. What happened between them, it was over long before it started. It’s dead and in the ground, and it isn’t coming back. It’s never coming back. It’s gone forever.

But he thought Sonny had slipped from his grasp altogether, and he’s right here now, tugging him off to a darkened corner near the bathrooms where nobody really seems to be looking, and then-

Then his lips are on Joel’s.

It’s strange. Joel can feel the hairs of Sonny’s beard tickling and scratching at his chin as their lips lock, and Sonny’s so much… stronger than he was before. When he pushes Joel against the wall and pins him there, it’s not because Joel lets him. It’s because he fucking can. Even when all Sonny’s doing is holding him down, Joel can fucking feel just how much bigger than him Sonny is. He’s not that skinny little emo twink Joel knew a decade ago. Sonny’s a fucking man now, all muscle and power.

Joel shudders when Sonny pulls out of the kiss and looks up at him with sultry eyes. They could go further- the bathrooms are right there, and nobody will even be inside during the awards. But before Joel can even suggest it, Sonny whispers like a promise, “After.”

Another moment and he adds, a little softer, “I missed you. I don’t want it to feel rushed.”

Joel’s leg won’t stop bouncing as he sits next to Ryan. He can tell Ryan is distracted by it, because his eyes keep flitting downward, but it doesn’t matter. Joel doesn’t stop thinking about it during the awards. He has no idea who won any of the categories. He’s not even sure if him and Ryan won whatever they got nominated for. It doesn’t matter, not like Sonny does. 

Joel bolts the moment the ceremony is over. 

He finds Sonny there again, in that dark corner where they had shared a kiss. He’s swinging around a set of car keys, staring at them absently as he waits. When he looks up and spots Joel, he catches the keys in his palm and smirks. 

“Let’s motor.”

When they get to Sonny’s house, it’s lips and tongues before they’ve even reached the door. Sonny has Joel pressed against it, and Joel has to reach over and turn the knob so they can both stumble back as it opens inward. And after that it’s a messy dance to untangle from one another, before Sonny all but drags Joel toward the bedroom. 

Joel thinks he knows what to expect here. He really does. He’s done this tango a thousand times with Sonny, mapped every inch of his skin by hand. But when he goes to grab Sonny by his hair, he forgets that Sonny keeps it tied up now; Sonny grabs Joel’s wrist away from him and holds it out to one side, kissing down Joel’s neck, lips ghosting the ink of his Meowski tattoo.

“You can’t teach an old mau5 new tricks, can you?” Sonny says, and god, he still isn’t even funny. Joel scoffs. Sonny pushes him backward until he’s standing against the foot of the bed and his knees are threatening to buckle underneath him. 

“You’re not in charge anymore, you know.”

Sonny shoves Joel to the bed, and when Joel’s hands land palm-up on either side of his head, Sonny crawls on top of him and moves to keep them there. Joel’s eyes are wide with shock and awe as he looks up at Sonny. Sonny still has those same kind eyes he always has, but something in them looks fierce, his eyebrows drawn close with stoicism and a fire in his gaze that suggests lust. As he pulls Joel’s hands up over his head, Joel swallows thickly. 

“Sonny,” is all he manages to breathe out. 

Sonny quickly hushes him, lips pressed to Joel’s as their hips rock together, and wait, when did Joel’s pants even come off him, anyway?

“Don’t talk.” Sonny’s lips are back on Joel’s soon after, and despite himself, Joel is all too eager to kiss back.

It’s so strange to be under Sonny, unfamiliar. And yet, he likes it. The way Sonny kisses him now- it’s soft and loving, vaguely mournful. Not like before, when it was just hungry. Now Sonny kisses him like he means something by it again. Like he loves Joel again.

It’s too good to be true.

Sonny is too good to be true. 

Joel wants to pinch himself, but his hands are pinned down. He strains against it, but he’s powerless under Sonny’s grip. He’s so fucking strong.

When Sonny’s hands come away from Joel’s, they still feel stuck there, paralyzed. Joel feels Sonny’s large hands around his thighs, pulling them up and hiking them over his hips, and the bulge in Sonny’s pants is pressing against his ass, and god, Joel feels breathless already.

He squirms a little more as Sonny finally separates their lips from one another, and Sonny looks down at him with just the softest hint of amusement in his gaze. 

“You enjoying yourself down there?” he teases, and Joel knows he’s teasing but his voice sounds so damn earnest. 

“Shut up.”

Sonny shakes his head a little, albeit with a smile, and Joel can’t look away as he strips off his shirt- the jacket must have already come off at some point without Joel’s noticing. As he peels the black fabric away from his body, Joel can’t help but stare at his body, in awe and with the slightest bit of nerves. He doesn’t look like some hunky magazine cover, not by a long shot. But he’s definitely strong. His arms are nice and defined, as are his pecs- god, his pecs. Joel wants to just squeeze a handful of them already. He doesn’t have a six-pack, a real one, but his torso still has that strong, sturdy look to it that the rest of him has, and Joel can see the muscles underneath the skin that would be well-defined if he was just a bit thinner. 

Joel likes him like this, though. 

As Sonny leans down to kiss at Joel’s neck, drawing the tiniest little shaking breaths and moans from him as he goes, he whispers with hot breath against his skin, “You don’t have to put up a front, Joely. You can just let me take care of you.”

The pet name is enough to make Joel whimper with need. Joely. How long has it been since Sonny called him that? How long since Sonny was right here in his arms, making him feel good?

But… something about it is off. Wrong.

“Sonny,” Joel croaks out, and he tries to move his arms but he can’t, and he doesn’t know why, and something about this all is just wrong.

Sonny looks up at him, and there’s something in that gaze- something pitying. Like he knows more than Joel does. Sonny’s kisses trail upward until they meet Joel’s lips, but Joel doesn’t feel anything. He tries, he does, he kisses Sonny as hard as he can, but the feeling of skin against skin fades and his vision goes dark until-

Until he wakes up at home.

Joel opens his eyes to see his plain white bedsheets and Miss Nyancat curled up on top of his hands, illuminated by the late-afternoon sunlight filtering in through the window. Joel pulls his hands out from underneath the cat, waking the tiny thing in the process, but he doesn’t care. 

Joel sits up in bed and stares out the window for a long moment. He glances toward the foot of the bed. 

Meowingtons isn’t there.

He fishes around the sheets for his phone, eventually finding it and checking the time. 

12:57 PM. February 5th, 2024. 

He opens his phone and checks Reddit, which is where he finds out that Sonny won a Grammy last night. 

He opens up Twitter and starts typing. He stops typing. He closes out of the new tweet box.

He gets up to go make coffee, and hopes he can manage without crying. 

He doesn’t.