Work Text:
Daylight savings time is bullshit.
All evening, setting clocks forward, Bahorel was grumbling. Losing an hour of sleep? It's the worst thing that could happen when he knows that he has to wake up and function in the morning. When R points out that he's done it to himself because he's the one who agreed to take this security gig in town for the week, the response is more grumbling and a wad of dirty socks to the back of his head.
Grantaire, of course, doesn't mention that he agrees, except sleep isn't what he's missing. He has a deadline to meet and a whole pot of coffee in his system and it's an hour of work that he's going to lose when the clocks roll forward and it feels like three but it's four o'clock instead. So he doesn't even have much time to think about it, except when he's filling his mug up or grabbing a glass of water again and again.
When his cell phone rings, it's suddenly six and he's perched on the edge of his bed with his knees near his ears and his elbows between his thighs and he can't actually remember the names of the characters he's writing about so he dubs them Bill and Ted until he can be bothered to look, never mind that one of them is a lady.
"Hello?"
"Happy daylight savings."
R grins and unfolds himself across his bed.
"I'm two hours away, I think? Had to stop for a coffee. Didn't wake you up, did I?"
"Hell no. I've got to come up with a way to end this stupid fucking bullshit novel be two this afternoon. The fuck is sleep?"
"You know, you curse more when you're sleep-deprived."
"Probably. The fuck are you doing halfway here this early anyway?"
Enjolras just laughs and Grantaire can hear the slosh of his coffee coming up beside the phone. "Honestly? I couldn't sleep and I figured you were probably awake. I thought if I just hit the road it'd be easier to stay awake for the drive and maybe we could just take a nap when I get there."
Grantaire hums as he stretches. "That sounds like a good plan."
"Think you can finish your story in two hours?"
"It's not a story; it's porn for the conservative housewife."
"Fine. Think you can finish your porn in two hours?"
"Did anybody hear that?"
"Two truckers and a mother of four, who is now staring at me like I'm the devil himself."
"Good. I'll be done by the time you get here."
Five minutes past eight in the morning and he hears the crunch of tires on gravel only seconds after he hits send. The company will like the manuscript or they won't. Grantaire doesn't really care. Ghostwriting makes good enough money and he's good enough at what he does that he's got ins with four different publishers and losing this one wouldn't matter anyway. Not that he'll lose them. They'll eat it up and have a new plot to him by Wednesday.
He takes the steps three at a time and nearly brains himself on the overhang before stumbling around the corner and skidding across the kitchen and through the mudroom and out the door.
Enjolras is standing by his car, arms crossed and overnight bag by his feet. He has the week off. They've decided to go camping. First, however, Grantaire has to jump the railing of the porch and launch himself across the driveway like a madman.
Quarter past eight and they have to stop kissing because one of the roommates needs to pull out of his parking space.
"So about that nap...."
Grantaire laughs and drags Enjolras inside. His bed's not really built for two people but whatever. They'll make it work. It'll just require more touching. He likes touching.
Nine o'clock and they're curled around one another in a tangle of limbs on paint-stained sheets, snoring softly into one anothers hair a full hour before they had originally planned for Enjolras to arrive.
On second thought, Grantaire finds himself thinking, as he wakes just enough to plant a lazy kiss between the hinge of the jaw and one ear, maybe daylight savings isn't such bullshit after all.