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kjack89 · 2 years

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Hi! I’m really enjoying the fics based on the spotify songs! Can I request your #1 song with Enjoltaire?

Ok, so, what I listened to most on Spotify wasn't a song, it was actually...

1. "Grandfather Clock Ticking (For Deep Sleep)"

Which has a whole story behind why it was what I listened to most, but I figured in lieu of telling it, it'd be so much more fun to turn it into a fic.

E/R, modern AU.

BONG.

Enjolras sat bolt upright, not seeming to notice that he had dislodged Grantaire from where he had been busily working somewhere further south.

BONG.

“What the fuck is that?” Enjolras demanded.

BONG.

Grantaire rocked back on his heels, looking equal parts amused and irritated by the rather dramatic shift in nighttime activities, and he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand.

BONG.

“It’s my clock,” he said, like it was obvious.

BONG.

Probably because it was obvious, so much so that Enjolras even looked a little embarrassed for having asked.

BONG.

“Did you steal it from a church steeple?” Enjolras asked stupidly.

BONG.

Grantaire rolled his eyes. “Does it sound like church bells to you?”

BONG.

“It’s certainly loud enough to be,” Enjolras shot back.

BONG.

Again Grantaire rolled his eyes, though this time with no small amount of affection. “I think you need your hearing examined,” he told Enjolras.

BONG.

The final chime of the clock faded into silence and Grantaire arched an eyebrow at Enjolras. “Now,” he said, leaning in to kiss him, “should I get back to, ah, examining what I was before?”

Enjolras’s eyes darkened. “Yeah,” he murmured before biting down lightly on Grantaire’s bottom lip. “Yeah, that sounds like a good idea.”

Six hours later, Enjolras lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling and severely regretting taking Grantaire up on his sleepy offer to spend the night. He should have insisted on leaving, not because he didn’t want to spend the night with Grantaire – though if he had known how loudly the man snored, he might also have reconsidered it – but because the clock went off every single hour.

Grantaire let out a snuffling noise before snuggling in closer against Enjolras, blinking blearily up at him. “Hey,” he said, his voice scratchy with sleep.

“Hey,” Enjolras returned, grateful for the opportunity to extract his arm from underneath Grantaire without waking him.

Grantaire yawned widely. “What are you doing up?”

Enjolras shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep.”

Though Grantaire nodded, he also gave Enjolras a calculating look. “Here I thought I wore you out pretty good last night.”

He said it casually, but Enjolras knew Grantaire well enough to know when he was fishing for a compliment. “You did,” he informed him dryly. “But your damned clock woke me up every hour.”

Grantaire groaned, flopping back down against his pillow. “Oh, Jesus, are you still on about that?”

Enjolras rolled over onto his side to frown at him. “I’m sorry that it’s the loudest clock in the world,” he said. “How the hell are you able to sleep through it?”

“Talent, I guess,” Grantaire said with another yawn. “I don’t know, I don’t really hear it.”

Enjolras just shook his head. “Maybe you’re the one who needs your hearing checked.”

“Maybe,” Grantaire agreed, skimming a hand up Enjolras’s side. “But I can think of a few better things we could do instead.”

Enjolras grinned as Grantaire pulled him close, and had just tilted his head down to kiss Grantaire when the clock chimed again, and he groaned. “Seriously?” he sighed, pulling away, and Grantaire groaned as well.

“Seriously?” he said, echoing Enjolras’s gripe, and he watched Enjolras stand up with pleading eyes. “You’re really gonna leave me here like this?”

“Mood’s ruined now,” Enjolras informed him, grabbing his underwear from where he had tossed them the night before. “You can take care of that yourself while I go make us coffee.”

But on his way to the kitchen to make coffee, Enjolras was waylaid by the loud ticking from the clock hanging on the wall. The ticking was loud enough that he was almost surprised he hadn’t noticed it the night before, but then again, he had been a little distracted by finally doing with Grantaire all the things they’d spent the better part of the last three years pretending they didn’t want to do to each other.

Speaking of Grantaire, he felt Grantaire’s stubble scratch across his bare shoulder as he rested his chin on his shoulder. “Still with the clock?” he asked, kissing Enjolras’s shoulder before brushing past him to the kitchen.

“What can I say, you didn’t seem like the kind of person who would have a clock in your apartment,” Enjolras said.

Grantaire laughed and shook his head, rummaging in the cabinet before emerging with a bag of coffee. “Just because I’m not known for being punctual doesn’t mean that I can’t own a clock,” he reasoned, measuring coffee into the coffee maker. “Besides, it has sentimental value. It’s a family heirloom.”

Enjolras raised both eyebrows at that, crossing over to take a closer look at the clock.

For as much noise as it made, it was a relatively small thing. Enjolras had been expecting some huge grandfather clock, all carved wood with gold accents. Instead, the wall clock was about a foot and a half long, its clock face and pendulum hidden behind unadorned glass, the word ‘REGULATOR’ printed on it in fading gold paint.

It didn’t look much like a family heirloom to him.

“I’m sure it doesn’t compare to whatever gilded monstrosities you probably inherited from your grandparents,” Grantaire said, shifting uncomfortably as he held a cup of coffee out to Enjolras, “but my grandparents had it for as long as I can remember, and I’ve always loved it.”

“I’m sure it’s a very nice clock,” Enjolras assured him as he took the outstretched mug, though he wasn’t really sure of that. “But, uh, is it always so…” He trailed off, trying to find the polite way of putting it. “Disruptive?”

“Pretty much,” Grantaire told him. “It doesn’t exactly have different settings, it’s either on or off.” Enjolras made a face and Grantaire hesitated before added, deliberately casual, “Of course, you’re probably never going to have to deal with it again, so…”

He trailed off and Enjolras glanced over at him. “Is that your attempt at a segue into the ‘are we going to do this again sometime’ conversation?” he asked.

Grantaire shrugged. “Maybe,” he said, taking a sip of coffee. “Depends on your answer.”

Enjolras shrugged as well. “Maybe,” he said, half-smiling before glancing critically at the clock. “But next time, we’re doing this at my place.”

Grantaire grinned, leaning in to kiss him. “Well,” he said, “I think I can handle that.”

- - - - - - - - - -

Six months later, Enjolras all but collapsed on his sofa, Grantaire following shortly after. “How do you have this much shit?” Enjolras asked with a groan.

Grantaire laughed tiredly, resting his head against Enjolras’s shoulder. “I think the better question is, where the hell are we going to put all my shit,” he said with a yawn.

“Can we make that a tomorrow problem?” Enjolras asked.

“As if I’ve ever said no to procrastinating.”

Enjolras laughed and kissed the top of Grantaire’s head before standing, groaning as he did. Grantaire groaned as well. “Where are you going?” he demanded, pouting up at him.

Enjolras wove through the boxes stacked in his living room to the kitchen. “To get this,” he told Grantaire, pulling a bottle of champagne out of the refrigerator. “To celebrate moving in together.” He paused. “Of course, if you’re too tired—”

“Did I say that?” Grantaire asked, sitting up. “I am never too tired for champagne.”

“I thought that’s what you’d say,” Enjolras said sweetly, grabbing two glasses from the cabinet before starting to make his way back to Grantaire. “Of course, maybe we should save this until you unpack—”

He tripped over a box and swore. Grantaire yelped and jumped up, rushing to his side. “Are you ok?” he asked, and Enjolras smiled at him before realizing he was talking to the bottle of champagne.

“I’m fine,” he said sourly. “Though whatever I tripped over may not be. What the hell is in this box, anyway? Bricks?”

Grantaire glanced down at the box in question, his expression shifting. “Oh, probably just books,” he said, taking the champagne and glasses from Enjolras. “Nothing to worry about—”

But Enjolras had already bent to open the box, and his scowl deepened when he saw what was inside. “What the hell is this thing doing here?” he asked, glaring up at Grantaire, who had the good grace to at least look slightly ashamed.

“Um, well, see—”

“What was my one condition of you moving in here?” Enjolras interrupted.

Grantaire sighed. “That the clock doesn’t come with me.” Enjolras looked pointedly down at the clock in question, and Grantaire made a face. “Come on, it wasn’t exactly a realistic request. You know I love that clock.”

“More than you love me?” Enjolras asked.

“That’s not fair, and you know it.” Grantaire said evenly, setting the champagne and the glasses down on the coffee table. “Especially since that clock is part of what allows me to love you as much as I do.”

Enjolras’s eye narrowed. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that you’re gone. A lot.” Grantaire’s voice was still even, and without accusation, but Enjolras still flinched. “It means that I spend a lot of time by myself. And that’s ok, because I knew what I was getting into when we started this, and I knew what I was agreeing to when I agreed to move in with you. But part of the reason why I can be ok with being by myself so much is because I have things that keep me sane, and keep me grounded, and the clock is one of those things. It stops me from losing my mind completely.”

“I get that,” Enjolras said, sitting down on the couch next to him. “But I really think the sound of it might make me lose my mind completely.”

Grantaire frowned. “And I get that. But we agreed when we decided to move in together that we would both have to compromise.”

Enjolras took a deep breath. “This is something that I don’t think I can compromise on,” he told Grantaire. “There’s a reason I never spent the night at your place after that one time.”

“And here I thought it was because my place wasn’t up to your standards. “

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “They’re not my standards, they’re the health department’s standards, and, yes, that’s also true, but the clock didn’t hurt matters.” He made a face. “Or help them, however you want to look at it.”

Grantaire half-smiled. “Fair enough. So here’s my proposal for a compromise: clock stays.” Enjolras opened his mouth to argue but Grantaire didn’t let him. “But it only stays on when you’re gone. When you get home, we turn it off, and I get to waste five minutes everyday correcting the time.”

As far as compromises went, it wasn’t a bad one. Still, Enjolras couldn’t help but ask, “And what if you forget? “

“Then I’m sure the first time it chimes when you get home after work, you’ll take a baseball bat to it and solve the problem for us,” Grantaire said dryly.

Enjolras snorted. “Don’t think I’m not tempted.”

Grantaire ignored him. “So what do you say? Compromise?”

“Compromise,” Enjolras agreed. “The clock can stay. For now.”

Grantaire grinned. “Good. Now let’s actually open this champagne.” He grabbed the champagne and opened it deftly so that none of it spilled, and he poured them both a glass before lifting his in a toast. “To compromise.”

“To the first of many compromises, I’m sure,” Enjolras said.

Grantaire laughed. “To understatements.”

Enjolras leaned in to kiss Grantaire. “To us,” he said softly.

Grantaire’s answering grin was enough to make the whole clock situation worth it. “To us.”

- - - - - - - - - -

“Hey,” Grantaire said from where he leaned against the doorjamb. “Whatcha working on?”

“Ostensibly securing permits for Les Amis’ next rally, which is proving more difficult than usual given that City Hall is all remote at the moment, and they’re not sure when the permit office will reopen.” Enjolras sighed as he leaned back in his chair. “I realize most people would enjoy a temporary work from home situation, but this is more or less my nightmare.”

Grantaire nodded slowly as he stepped into the second bedroom of their apartment that was currently functioning as Enjolras’s office. “Well, speaking of working from home…We need to talk.”

Enjolras frowned up at him. “That’s never an auspicious way to start a conversation.”

Grantaire didn’t smile. “Wait until you hear what the topic of the conversation is.”

“What?” Enjolras asked warily.

Grantaire sighed, perching on the edge of Enjolras’s desk. “We need to talk about the clock.”

“No,” Enjolras said immediately. “Absolutely not. We settled that matter two years ago.”

“Yes, but some things have changed,” Grantaire said evenly. “Namely, there’s a global pandemic that’s forced everyone who can, including and especially you, to work from home for the foreseeable future. And while I love having you home during the day and have only wanted to throttle you a few times over the past couple weeks, this is turning out to be more permanent than either of us were expecting.”

“Only because half of this country is determined to kill everyone,” Enjolras muttered. “But what does that have to do with the clock?”

Grantaire gave him a look. “Our compromise doesn’t really work with you working from home.”

Enjolras sighed. “I know, but it’s only for a little longer—”

“Do you honestly believe that?” Grantaire asked.

Enjolras made a face. “Not really,” he admitted.

Grantaire nodded, looking only a little self-satisfied. “Which is why we need to revisit the compromise,” he said. “So even though I know the clock drives you nuts, I would like you to at least try. Just for a few days. Because I need the noise or I can’t get any work done.” Enjolras shook his head but Grantaire didn’t let him interrupt. “And before you tell me that your work is more important—”

“I wasn’t going to,” Enjolras said, a little sullenly, even though an argument in that vein had been formulating in his head.

“—I just want to remind you that at the moment, my graphic design work is our only active source of income,” Grantaire said. “And with the hit the market has been taking, your trust fund may have seen better days.”

Enjolras just made a disparaging noise in the back of his throat. “Believe me, my trust fund will be fine,” he said dismissively. “If there’s one area of the economy we can trust the government to actually bail out…”

Grantaire barked a laugh. “Well, you’re not wrong.” He hesitated. “But still. Can we please try? Just for a few days.”

“And if it doesn’t work?” Enjolras asked. “If I can’t get used to it?”

Grantaire sighed. “Then we’ll have to figure something else out.”

Enjolras crossed his arms in front of his chest. “You’re asking an awful lot from me.”

He meant it as a joke, but Grantaire’s expression darkened. “Need I remind you that I gave up my office so that you could work out of it? That even though you’re now home just as much as me, I haven’t asked you to take over any of the laundry or cooking or cleaning that I also do while doing my job that remains our only source of active income? Or—”

Enjolras held his hands up defensively. “I’m sorry, it was a joke,” he said quietly. “And clearly not a good one.” He sighed. “Fine, we can try it.”

Grantaire instantly brightened. “Really?”

“Really,” Enjolras said firmly. “Compromise, remember?” He hesitated before adding, “And speaking of, I am more than happy to take over some of the cooking and cleaning and laundry and whatever else you need me to.”

“And you will,” Grantaire assured him, leaning in to kiss him. “But I have to train you first, so let’s not run before we can walk.”

He patted Enjolras’s cheek, and Enjolras scowled. “You need to train me?” he repeated.

“Enjolras, you managed to break the dishwasher the first and only time you ever loaded it,” Grantaire said patiently. “Yeah, you need some training.”

There wasn’t really any argument that Enjolras could make to counter that, so he settled for huffing a sigh and turning back to his desk. “Just go start the damn clock up before I change my mind.”

Grantaire laughed “I love you,” he said, kissing the top of Enjolras’s head.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Enjolras grumbled, even though he couldn’t quite stop his smile.

- - - - - - - - - -

“Morning,” Grantaire said, tipping his head back so that Enjolras could kiss him as he walked by the kitchen table. “How’d you sleep?”

“Like a rock,” Enjolras told him with a yawn. “I didn’t hear you get up.”

Grantaire made a face. “I had a deadline. They wanted my design for New Year’s Eve 2021 even though it’s still a month away—” He broke off when Enjolras stopped in his tracks in the middle of the kitchen. “ What’s wrong?”

“The clock,” Enjolras said blankly, and Grantaire frowned.

“What about the clock?” he asked. “It’s been almost two years, you can’t tell me that the thing’s still driving you nuts.”

Enjolras turned to frown at him. “No, it’s stopped ticking.”

Grantaire listened for a moment before his eyes widened. “Oh, shit, you’re right,” he said. “Maybe it needs to be wound.”

Enjolras shook his head, his brow furrowing. “I just wound it yesterday.”

Grantaire’s face fell. “Maybe it needs to be leveled?” he suggested.

“Maybe,” Enjolras said, somewhat doubtfully, though he quickly added when he saw the look on Grantaire’s face, “I’ll play around with it today, see if I can get it ticking again.”

Grantaire tried to smile. “Well look at you, caring about the clock. I knew it would grow on you.”

“Yeah, like cancer,” Enjolras muttered.

“Hilarious,” Grantaire said, standing up. “I’m going to go take a shower.”

“Ok,” Enjolras said, finally going to pour himself a cup of coffee.

Grantaire lingered for a moment. “In case you were curious, that was an invitation.”

Enjolras took a sip of coffee, a slow smile crossing his face. “Well, no need to twist my arm,” he said, setting his coffee on the counter before following Grantaire to the bathroom.

But while a very satisfied Grantaire took a post-shower nap, Enjolras returned to the clock. Despite his best efforts, despite several DIY YouTube videos and carefully removing the clock’s back to adjust the gears and mechanism, the clock would still only tick for a few minutes and then stop.

When Grantaire emerged for lunch, he gave Enjolras a confused look. “Are you still working on that?” he asked, opening the refrigerator and glancing inside. “I figured you’d be relieved the thing had finally stopped.”

“Honestly, I thought I would be, too, but…” Enjolras shrugged, sitting back in his chair. “Not that it matters, because we’ve hit a wall in what I can do. At least, without me accidentally breaking it.”

“Good thing I’m not into you for how handy you are,” Grantaire teased, kissing the top of Enjolras’s head before sitting down next to him. “But that’s ok. I love this clock, you know that, but it’s old.” He said it bracingly, as if he was trying to convince himself as much as Enjolras. “I’ll look up some white noise on YouTube or something. It won’t be the same but it’ll get the job done.”

“Yeah, ok,” Enjolras said vaguely, still absorbed in the article he had pulled up on Google about mechanical clocks.

Grantaire rolled his eyes affectionately and stood. “I’ll let you keep working,” he told him, heading back into the bedroom.

Enjolras waited until he heard the door close before he pulled out his phone and dialed the number he had just Googled. “Hi, my name is Enjolras,” he said. “I’m hoping you can help me with something.”

- - - - - - - - - -

Enjolras felt Grantaire shift against him as he woke up, and he groaned. “Is it morning already?” he asked.

Grantaire laughed softly. “It’s not just morning,” he told him, tilting his head up to kiss him. “It’s Christmas morning.”

Enjolras smiled down at him. “In that case, Merry Christmas, Grantaire.”

“Merry Christmas, Enjolras.”

Grantaire sat up in bed and stretched. “So I know we’re going to Combeferre and Courfeyrac’s for dinner, but I was thinking—”

BONG.

Grantaire’s eyes widened. “Wait a minute, is that—”

He was out of bed like a child that had realized Santa had come, and Enjolras grinned, even as he took his time in following.

“The clock!” Grantaire shouted from the living room.

Enjolras wrapped his arms around Grantaire’s waist from behind and kissed his cheek. “Merry Christmas,” he repeated, resting his chin on Grantaire’s shoulder as they both looked at the clock, back in its place on the wall but this time with a red gift bow stuck on top.

Grantaire turned around to kiss him properly. “But how—”

“I took it to a clock repairman,” Enjolras told him. “You would not believe how few of those there are these days, but I managed to track one down, this old German man who, thankfully, said it wasn’t broken. Just needed to be cleaned and oiled.”

Grantaire shook his head slowly. “But why?” he asked. “You hate that thing.”

“I used to,” Enjolras said honestly. “But then – I don’t know. I guess I realized that sometimes it’s not about compromise. Sometimes it’s about learning to live with someone exactly as they are, and realizing that they’ve changed your life so much that you can’t live without them.”

Grantaire grinned up at him. “That would be incredibly romantic if you were saying it about me and not the clock.”

Enjolras leaned in to kiss him before saying, his voice low, “Who says it can’t be about both?”

Grantaire returned his kiss, wrapping his arms around Enjolras’s neck. “I love you.” he told him.

“I love you, too,” Enjolras said.

“Are you saying that to me or the clock?”

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “Grantaire,” he sighed.

Grantaire laughed. “Kidding,” he assured him. “Mostly, anyway.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes and Grantaire kissed him once more before heading into the kitchen to make coffee. Enjolras glanced at the clock, unable to stop his smile at the familiar sound that he hadn’t even realized he would miss until it was gone.

Then he followed Grantaire into the kitchen for another piece of familiarity with the man he had never expected to have built a life with, but just like the damned clock, he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

#exr #enjolras x grantaire #enjoltaire #enjolras #grantaire #fanfiction #les miserables #modern au #ask #answered #lenathesingingcat #spotify wrapped meme

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