No Clue What I'm Doing

'And an anniversary to celebrate!' Jack slung an arm round Davey's neck and pressed a kiss to his temple. 'I'll be spending the whole day competing with Punx for his affections.' Davey scowled, blushed, and grabbed Jack's hand, pulling his arm tighter round him.

'Like you could ever compete with Punx.' 

'I knew it! You planned it so your notice at work gave you just enough time to come here!' 

'Shut up! It was a coincidence.'

'I believe you, Davey. Other people wouldn't, but.'

'God. A whole year.' 

'We really crushed it. Gonna be hard to top last years GHD.'

'We can try. That's a reason to keep coming back in itself.'

'I love it. They're gonna rename the holiday after us, I just know it, what do you think, Crutch?'

'For sure.’ Crutchie grinned. ‘Davey peeps out of a motel room, if he sees his shadow then it's six more weeks of -'

'Six more weeks in bed!' Jack exclaimed. 

'You wish.' Davey tried to scowl again but obviously couldn't manage it.

'I do wish.'

'Shut up. Come on, we've got a lot to do and only a day and a half to do it in.'

They joined the crowd streaming out of the square. Davey thought ahead to the following week, when he'd start the executive producer position (that he'd been headhunted for, not that he liked to focus on that part) (except he absolutely did like focusing on that part) and then even further ahead to the following February 2nd. He didn't know exactly what that day would look like, but he hoped it would look an awful lot like this one.

//

When he woke up, he couldn't tell. Or rather, he was overcome with a kind of bewilderment that rendered him unable to assess. He was maybe kind of aware that something had shifted - but it took him a while to comprehend anything more than that.

First of all it was silent. No alarm. 

Second it was bright in the room - sun was streaming in rather than the usual almost-light he woke up to.

His stomach twisted up as he made those realisations, and he tried to suppress it so he could actually think. 

Was he a little closer to the side of the bed than he usually was?

And he was usually wearing something else, right? Usually woke up in a t-shirt and boxers, and now, he was - well, the t-shirt was gone.

Jack had been there. Oh god, had Jack ever been there. 

But he wasn't now. 

Davey was alone. He was always alone. 

He took a deep breath, trying to calm his heart thumping in his chest as he turned over to look at the alarm clock.

09:47

3-FEB.

It looked fake. It looked wrong, and weird, because it couldn't possibly be true, February 3rd didn't exist, at least not for him, not anymore - he picked up the alarm clock and held it close to his face, making sure that the 3 was actually a 3 and not a... 

He dropped it on the floor and rolled over in bed, curling up into a ball and pressing his hands to his face, trying to stifle the tears that had sprung to his eyes. All at once the exhaustion of the past however many days crippled his bones, and a huge weight paradoxically lifted up and away from him. 

February 3rd.

February. 3rd.

Back to Philly. To normality - Jesus, okay, what had happened yesterday, what had been the last version?

The door opened with a low creak and he sat up in bed to see Jack coming in. He held a tray with two cups of coffee and a plate of croissants on it, and wore Davey's pyjama pants and a timid smile. 

'Hi.' He crossed the room, eyeing Davey as he sat up and rubbed his eyes. 'Sorry if I woke you.'

'You didn't.' Davey watched him set the tray on the night stand. 'I thought you'd gone.'

'Nope.' Jack rested a knee on the bed, about to get back in, but hesitating. 'Did you want me to?'

'No.' Davey drew the comforter back, inviting Jack back in, and relished in the feeling of the bed dipping as Jack got in, the warmth under the cover as he pulled it over himself, that contented cosiness that came from waking up at his own leisure rather than in a blind panic at 6am. All of that was real. He had practised so hard in the last however-fucking-long-it-was, centring himself, telling himself what was real, so it came naturally to him now to focus on the sensations, and they almost overwhelmed him. He started remembering the night before but had to press pause in his head before he combusted. He accepted a cup of coffee from Jack, fingertips brushing over Jack's hands as he took it. 'Thanks.'

He had a whole new day ahead of him. A blank canvas. Nothing pre-determined, unless he decided it. It was almost... nerve wracking. Like running into a room with his eyes closed. But that was how it was supposed to be.

They drank coffee in silence for a little while before he spoke up.

'You were right.' He glanced over at Jack. 'We should blow off work today.'

'Yeah?'

'Yeah. No rush.'

'What do you want to do instead?'

'I don't know. Explore a little more maybe. Drive around. Take our time.' 

'Taking our time sounds great.' Jack smiled at him. 'We could stay here a little longer too, right?'

Davey nodded. 'Yeah.' He held out his hand and Jack took it, linking their fingers together, and lifting it to his mouth where he pressed the gentlest kiss to Davey's knuckles. 

'I almost, um.' Jack shifted closer as he spoke, until they sat with their shoulders touching, legs a little tangled up. 'Almost tried to get out of this, you know. Groundhog Day. I got the impression it was such a... chore.' 

'What's the verdict?'

'Oh, I think I'd do it again. And again, and again.'

And Davey almost laughed, or maybe almost cried, but did neither, instead turning his head and leaning in, asking for a kiss which Jack readily provided, sleepy, slow, and languorous. 

He sat up and let himself remember everything that had happened since that morning, that particular Groundhog Day that felt like years ago. Interviewing people. The man in Jack's bed. The walk through the park. The man in Jack's bed. The invite to the dance. The man in Jack's bed. And now this, waking up after napping with Jack. Not quite the same as his fantasy had been, being that it was almost six and they were several feet apart. But something!

He needed to try and get a shower before the thing. It was never any question whether or not he would go, because for once it felt like something completely and utterly different. It felt final. Like the end of Love Actually.

If he was Jack, he pondered, watching the soft rise and fall of his chest (and the way his lips were slightly parted, hair a little messy) he'd want to be woken up right now. So he would. Just after one or two more seconds of drinking the sight in.

'Jack,' he whispered, standing up, stretching, walking round. 'Hey.' A soft tap to his arm.

Jack inhaled sharply and his eyebrows shot up. 'What. What's going...' He opened his eyes. Looked at Davey. Looked around the room. Back at Davey. 'Did I fall asleep?'

'Yeah. We both did. It's six.'

'Six when? What day is it?'

'Six pm. Still Groundhog Day.'

'Mmmph. Shit. I'm up.' He heaved himself into a sitting position. 'Time to party.'

'Yeah, you look about ready.'

'Shut up. Dance you into the ground.' He stretched his arms up over his head and Davey definitely didn't sneak a look at his shirt tightening over his chest, and riding up over his stomach (didn't blush at that little bit of skin he'd never seen before, either.) 'I'll tell the Crutchmeister where we're goin'. Like he hasn't been invited eight separate times.' He yawned again. 'And I'll see you downstairs at seven?'

'It's a - a plan.' Muggy with sleep himself, Davey almost let a different word slip out. He gratefully let his attention be drawn by his phone lighting up on the bed between them. An email. He grabbed it. 'It's from Andy. God. Shit. I didn't think I'd be so nervous.'

'Want me to read it?'

'We both can.' He sat down on the bed and Jack sat next to him, both eyeing the screen as he unlocked it.

Dave. I like it. Send me a final version by Friday morning.

I am impressed.

He read it five times, distantly aware of Jack slinging an arm round his neck and exclaiming 'Dave!!!'

'Oh god. Oh man, jeez that's such a relief, oh my god!'

'He's impressed! You impressed him!'

'We impressed him!'

'We fucking crushed it! Well done, Davey.'

'I couldn'ta done it without you. And Crutchie. Thanks so much for doing that extra work!'

'Nah, come on. Didn't feel like work. None of this has.' They fell into a long moment of silence. Davey read the email over and over. So did Jack. And after a couple of seconds they seemed to realise simultaneously that they were sitting almost flush side by side, Jack's hand warm and firm on Davey's shoulder. Davey certainly didn't shrug the hand away, stilling, trying to memorise the feeling of being so close to Jack. And Jack left it a little while too. Just a moment. Because he was a touchy guy, and this was normal, but then also because he was sharing this moment with his producer who was actually pretty cool and nice and -

'Well.' Jack sprang up, heading over to the door. 'We're celebrating! See you at seven.' He saluted Davey as he headed out.

Davey stared at the door, back to trying to manage his expectations. Just because Jack had said in the past (present, fucking whenever it was) that he was interested didn't necessarily mean anything. And the fact that they had again spent the day together, had this success together, and were going to a fucking dance together... Davey didn't want to take away Jack’s agency in how this day ended up, couldn't just rely on the fact Jack may like him - and after all, he had decided, or tried to decide, that this wasn't just about Jack anymore. If at all. But when Jack wrapped an arm around his neck? Seemed almost ecstatic for him? He could do that again. It was one thing to know that this might not be (probably wasn't) about Jack (but.... still maybe maybe might be) but another to actually try and act like he knew it.

He shook his head as he stood up and started to get undressed, tried to focus on the victory.

Andy had said yes! To something Davey had thought of! And sure, he had said yes before - but maybe the thing he had said yes to was actually not what Davey should have been going for. He couldn't remember the words exactly, hadn't he just kind of asked for more? Without putting something in place, without making a suggestion - just asking to not be sent to Punx. And that was clearly wrong.

This felt different, and it had to be.

But.

What would he do if he woke up tomorrow morning to the same thing? He had to consider it. He'd been sure before. But now he was... sure.

He hated to think it but he definitely suspected that he would shut down again. For days. If the unthinkable he was thinking about happened. Total implosion.

'Oh - shit. Ignore me.' Jack was in his room. Hadn't he left? 'I left my - phone. I shoulda knocked -'

He watched Jack dart over to the nightstand and grab his phone, and he sort of tried to cover himself but that was a little hard considering how he was standing in the middle of the room in just a towel. He settled for staying still, arms folded across his stomach, while Jack left in a haste. 'See you-’ He glanced up and caught Davey's eye, then his gaze flickered down, down again, and up, and he cleared his throat. 'Seven. At seven.'

'Yeah.' He flushed painfully hot. When the door closed he covered his face with his hands and let out a low groan, adding that to the list of events that made him scared that today wasn't the perfect day. Victories were adding up, slowly, but jolts like that chipped at what little confidence he'd started to have. He preferred his initial unveiling of his pasty torso to happen in the dark, especially considering what he was fairly sure Jack looked like under his shirt (not that he’d spent a lot of time thinking about it, certainly not – but definitely tan, and toned, and – fuck.)

For all the moments he had felt almost like an expert in whatever the fuck was happening, he still had no fucking clue how it worked. The only way is to see, he told himself over and over as he showered. Act like the days were going to go back to normal, go to sleep, and just see.

He shut off the water and stared at the tiles, not praying, but something close. Telling someone, some being or whoever was listening, that he was sorry, and hopeful, and could maybe have something worth breaking out of this thing for.

But again. Who said that would change anything?

//

The action of descending the stairs in the hotel had a jarring but not entirely unwelcome echo of prom night about it, as Jack waited at the bottom, and watched him come down with a tight smile.

'I keep wondering what kind of night it's gonna be, you know?' He said as he held the front door open for Davey. 'Like... half of me thinks that they've used the word "party" symbolically and it's actually going to be y'know... bingo and knitting. And then the other half thinks we're going to walk into a fricken... crack den. The dark underbelly of Punx.'

'Do you think Punx has a dark underbelly?'

'It'd be fun to try and find it, right?'

'Maybe they have what they think is one and it's just like... a motel room full of people streaming tv illegally. Taking one more painkiller than the recommended dosage.'

'Watching Fifty Shades of Grey with the blinds down?'

'Oh my god, maybe I don't wanna find it.'

'Might be a feature in that?'

'It would be... I guess, interesting, you never know, people in Philly might respond better to something smearing Punx a little.'

'Not smearing if it's true, right? Like how not everyone is going to watch the one we made and love Punx immediately, but. It'll show 'em what they never thought about.'

'You're right. That's exactly... Jack, are you gonna want to do more of these? I mean... You helped me out a lot with this one, and I really admire your skills as a presenter. But I know it's extra work, and you're already full time at the station.'

'Are you kidding?'

'No...'

'I was hoping you'd ask.' He smiled at Davey. 'Cuz that would be dope.'

'Great. Deal.' More time spent with Jack. Score. 'We'll talk in Philly.' He shoved his hands into his pockets and stared ahead, trying to fight the feeling that this was all suddenly going, like, really well, and whether or not that was a good thing or a bad thing. It was just a thing, damn it.

That was why he also wasn't focusing on the way their arms kept brushing as they walked down the street (through several layers of clothes, obviously, but noticeable as fuck) or how they were going together (because they'd been invited together and were both going from the hotel so would obviously walk there together but still... going together.) He pushed away thoughts of how the night could go - like, would there be dancing? Pictures? Jack's face illuminated by a whirlwind of rainbow lights as he smiled at Davey from across the room?

Stop it. Shut up.

'Where's Crutchie?'

'He's already there. That or he's still pregaming at some old lady's house. Little scamp.'

'I'm so grateful for him today. His input. You know? You can't fake that kinda love for a place.' Could you?

Wait, could you?

'Yeah, he's one of my favourite people.'

Was that what Davey had done? He quietened, biting his lip. Had he not done basically that? Was he pretending to be this person? He tried to search inside but came up short. How could he tell? He didn't, like, hate Punx anymore, but he wouldn't... LIVE there. And he'd enjoyed talking to people but like... wasn't all of that just done in the interest of getting out of this cycle? Did that just make him shallow, make believe, even exploitative? What if when he got back to Philly everything snapped back? Did he want that?

And Jack. Was he tricking him into liking him? No - he had told him that he'd thought he was hot. He hadn't imagined that. But that didn't mean he liked him as a person - and he probably hadn't. What made Davey think that after weeks of knowing Jack, being snippy, impatient, frustrated, he could just reverse it in what was still essentially one day? And it still might not be who he really was. What kind of entitled bullshit -

'We're here!'

They were in front of the community centre, a plain but vast rectangular building. Music could be heard distantly, some anonymous jazz. Davey blinked several times, shaking his head to try and clear the fog. Did he want to go inside, like really sincerely? Or was it a ruse to try and fix this thing? Because if he was doing it for selfish reasons didn't that mean that it wasn't the right thing to do?

He glanced at Jack. He thought about going in there and dancing with him. Grinning as they showed off cringy moves, disco lights reflecting in Jack's eyes. And he decided that he was fairly sure he actually wanted to go in. Whether or not it was right. He manufactured a smile and turned to Jack.

'Let's do it.'

//

'Dave?'

'Hmm?'

'You're in the. The closet.'

'I'm not, I came out when I was seventeen.'

'No but. Come on.'

'I - yeah.'

'Mind if I join?'

'Be my guest.'

Crutchie took a seat on a giant box of paper towels. The door swung shut behind him.

It had been going well! It had been going fine. It had been going... okay. Like, it would be unrealistic for Davey to suddenly love discos, know how to dance, but when they were invited he was expecting to ride in on a cautious wave of positivity. He thought he'd be in high spirits, not fresh out of an existential crisis. But as soon as he'd stumbled upon that inkling that he might be bluffing, he couldn't tell what was real and what wasn't, what was good and what wasn't. Plus, as the night went on, as he got closer and closer to the end of the day, more nerves gripped him - if this wasn't the way out, what was? Was there even a way out? Would it be years and years, or just eternity of this? How long would this revived fight last, if today wasn't the last day?  He was scared. And he tried to tell himself that the worst thing he could do would be to fret about what had to be done, because then he wasn't really there, and if he wasn't really there then it was right that he was bluffing - but what if he missed a chance to fix this because he was staring at Jack?

He had come close to fun a couple of times. Dad-dancing with Jack after reuniting with Crutchie, a few beers, seeing the people they'd interviewed again in a different environment, being introduced to more people as a result of that - he could almost kid himself that it was all genuine, none of it contrived. But then if something was contrived to be for the best, that had to make it better than when he'd just been himself on that first day. Or been who he used to be, or...

Contrivance tended to have negative connotations, but then - he had made this. Not made it in the sense of y'know, actually making it, planning the party, sending himself on this broadcast, but... this was essentially the opposite of what he thought his trip here would be. He'd orchestrated a day that had seen him at a party he was happy to be at, with someone he was fairly sure he could fall in love with, looking forward to a new creative project back in Philly - when on his first day here, he'd just floated through.

He still couldn't tug his attention away from this assessment of whether or not it was working, or if he could tell, how he might be able to tell, and the longer the night went on the harder it became to concentrate.

Plus the Jack thing.

The fucking Jack thing.

Jack glowed. He was so good at this whole thing, in a way that made Davey wish (even more) that they were actually there as dates so he could just hold Jack's hand the whole time and let him do the talking, and also have that excuse to watch him all night. His ease was enchanting but it threw Davey's own self-consciousness and anxiety way into focus. That, combined with his internal struggle over whether or not to incite something with him, add a dash of fear of Groundhog Day happening again - end result: closet. An hour or so of distracted stammering led him out of the hall, down the corridor, and into the first door that caught his attention.

It wasn't too long until Crutchie found him. Davey was sitting on the ground, leaning against a shelf crammed full of detergent. Crutchie had texted him, a quick wya dave, a message he'd stared at for several minutes before admitting to himself that seeing Crutchie would help, and writing back second door on left outside hall.

'Everything okay?'

'Oh, yeah. That's why I'm in the closet.'

'Right. Dumb question.'

'No, I'm sorry, Crutchie. I'm being an asshole.'

'What's wrong?'

'I, uh. I'm losing my mind.'

'And what makes you say that?'

'I've been trying so hard to make something meaningful out of this trip... But I've been so selfish. Like, oh my god. I'm using Punx to get a promotion, and I'm pretending to be nice because... I want... Jack.'

Crutchie took a deep breath in. 'Ah. That's some stuff.'

'I feel like I'm so close to maybe getting what I want and I don't deserve it.'

'Dave -'

'And also maybe I'm not close? Who am I to say?'

'Dave! You did important stuff today! Like, was I surprised when you suddenly wanted to document Punx? Course! But, like, you ended up putting love into that documentary whether you wanted to or not. Can't fake love.'

'Yeah you can.'

'Can you? Okay, but like. Think about the man who fakes his symptoms. He's still sick.'

'What?'

'I mean, like - like the fact that you did the stuff, that you made the film, that you've been so great to work with - like, because you did it, that's you. You know?'

'I don't... Know...'

'It took me and Jack a little bit by surprise too. Dave, you've always been nice. Under the surface. You've always been too stressed to actually show everyone, but you can tell it's there. And somehow, being in Punx - don't hate me - maybe brought out the best in you.'

'So when we get back to Philly I'm just gonna go back to how I was?'

'Don't have to. Figure out what's been different in the past day and keep it with you.'

Davey nodded, leaning back against the wall. Of course it wasn't as simple as that. He couldn't take the motivation to break the cycle back to Philly, because being in Philly meant that the cycle would already be broken. But surely he had found something in that motivation?

What had Crutchie said? In the thing -

'Do you really believe it?'

'What?'

'What you said in the interview. About every person being able to make the best of where they are?'

'Well, yeah. Wouldn'ta said it if I didn't.'

'I'm nervous that this is all gonna disappear.'

'That's up to you, Davey. Always been up to you!'

He stared up at Crutchie. 'I like Jack so much. So much.'

'If you told me that yesterday I wouldn't have believed you. Probably same for him, but I shouldn't speak for him.'

'Telling you today?'

'I believe you.'

'And what if I told him?'

'I don't know. That's up to him, right?'

'Right...' If he put one foot wrong, he was sure the whole thing would blow up. And sure, he could try again, and again, and again - but he was so scared that his fight would eventually ebb out of him, especially after a come down from a day as hopeful as this. 'I might ruin everything.'

'Might not.' Crutchie gave him a big smile. 'Last thing, because there's fumes in here, and we're missing the dance, but - he's a good buddy, we've talked a bunch since we've been here. He is noticing you. Okay? He can see how cool you are. He will have noticed that you ducked out. And he's already asked me if you're okay tonight. Cuz he thought you looked anxious. I'm not saying anything. I'm just saying those things.' He gave Davey an exaggerated meaningful stare, eliciting a quiet chuckle, and he offered his hand to help Davey up as he stood. 'Better?'

'Yeah. Better.'

//

'Hey.' He sat down next to Jack, who had just finished dazzling some locals with some story about weather or Philly or something.

'Hey! Invisible man!' Jack pushed a beer towards him. 'Where'd you go?'

'Y'know. Just out. Fresh air.' Stuffy, smelly, janitor's closet air. 'What did I miss?'

'Oh, a bunch. There was like a... like a dance off slash rumble slash mosh pit I think? And like. The mayor gave a little speech. We got a mention.'

'Did we really?'

'Yeah! He was giving it all the... you know, sarcastic "next year's Oscar winner" spiel, but you could tell he really, really liked it. It was nice.'

'That's really sweet!' They shared a smile. Jack shifted his chair an inch closer.

'Hey, are you okay?'

Davey froze for a second, then let out a quiet, nervous laugh. 'Yeah. Yeah, why?'

'Nothing. Seem a little... I don't know, on edge, maybe? I might be talking out of my ass. You can tell me to stop.'

'No, it's fine. I - I think the day is just catching up with me, maybe.' He tapped his fingertips on the neck of his beer bottle. 'Big event. Low energy. You know?'

'Totally. Been there. Don't have to stay, though, right? Today holds up.'

'No, I know. I know. Just. I don't wanna go home yet.'

'I know what you mean.' They both cast an eye over the room.

In that moment of silence Davey thought, as he had so many times that day, that he could just do it, just lean forward that few inches and... but it was like he had been a different person on that day, at the very least a different version, and what made him so sure that Jack would say yes to this one?

'So, um,' Jack mercifully started talking again. 'Tomorrow. Slammed back down to earth. I texted Mendel at the station and he thinks we'll be good to drive back.'

'That's good!' He nodded, both praying that Jack was right and resisting the urge to laugh at how Jack knew so easily that tomorrow would come.

'Do we still have to go in, you think? If we get back at like, lunch?'

'I don't actually know, um. I was always gonna go back there today, if we made it back to Philly y'know?'

'Yeah, totes. Feel like we must be able to wrangle a day off though, right? Driving home from Punx, being stuck here, it's tiring. I bet they'd actually advise us to leave.'

'You think?'

'Yeah! I mean, like. I'm beat. Obviously you are.'

'Obviously?'

'Not in a bad way! I mean - you've been working all day, you fell asleep at four.'

'So did you!'

'I'm exhausted too!'

'So we can write each other's sick notes?'

'Exactly! But like, I think. I've thought for a little while, that you just - like, you need a god damn day off, you know?'

Davey opened his mouth to say something, then closed it, leaning back in his chair and replying instead with a long sigh. 'I don't like taking days off.' That sentence sounded like a relic. A fossil unearthed from who he was before he woke up that morning. An automatic answer - but was it still true? 'You miss stuff, you know.'

'No, I don't. You gotta take some time out, right?'

'One time I took a half day after a couple of all nighters, and when I came in at noon Bob had been put on a project in London. Cuz he raised his hand first. So like. I don't know. When I say it out loud it doesn't sound like a justification, it's just - that's what it is.' He bit his lip. 'That's why I didn't really wanna come in the first place.'

'Can't be in the station every second of every day. Stuff's always gonna happen.'

'I know I'm being irrational.'

'Hey, it makes sense, in a way. But you could make a case for that half day being equally as important as some dumb London thing.'

'You... are right. You're right.'

'I usually am. Some of the best stuff happens when you're outside of the office, I mean, didn't we just prove that today? Like, Dave - excuse me while I get emotional cuz I've had three beers and not enough sleep - but today has been bomb. I thought that the Groundhog Day thing was gonna be a novelty, fun, nice to get away, whatever, but we really crushed the shit out of this thing!' Davey laughed as Jack's voice rose with excitement. 'This video thing is gonna be incredible, we're gonna prove to people at the station that we're a fuckin... dream team.' And if that didn't make Davey's heart swell up. Jack grabbed his shoulder and gestured vaguely with his drink. 'I am so excited about this, Dave.'

Davey glanced down at Jack's hand on his shoulder, and back up at Jack, stomach seizing up with the sheer desperate need for this version to stick. A surge of memories rushed over him, disparate moments from however many Groundhog Days had happened - breaking his arm, sleeping with Spot, shovelling ice cream into his face - like a hurricane of moments that had blown him to this seat, inches from Jack, in the Punxsutawney Community Centre. He'd done things two ways - one, safe in the knowledge that tomorrow wasn't coming, and two, hopeful that it would catalyse an actual new day. The hidden third that he had touched upon tonight, was stuff that he just wanted to do.

'Do you wanna get some air? I wanna get some air.' He stood up, draining his beer.

'Yeah!'

It was a short walk out to the back of the building, not nearly long enough for Davey to decide why exactly he'd invited Jack out there. The orange streetlights around the parking lot reflected off the residual snow, casting a warm, uncanny glow. He leaned back against the wall, taking in a deep breath of fresh air, suddenly aware of how warm it had been inside. Jack paced in front of him, and spoke first.

'Sorry if I spoke out of turn.'

'What? You didn't.'

'When I - it's another bad habit. Word vomit. Giving people unsolicited advice.'

'You don't have to apologise for that. What you said made a lot of sense.'

'You didn't ask for it, though.'

'It's actually... One of the things I like about you.' He felt his cheeks burn. 'You always know what to say. I clam up. You're just. Easy to open up to.' He was ninety percent sure that that was something you could say without it meaning anything. Sure, the phrasing, and the atmosphere heaped meaning on the words (plus the fact that this was Jack) but if he had to, he felt like he could back out of any implications.

'Not always. Only with the right people.' He stopped pacing, turned to face Davey, and looked up at the sky. 'Dave. Last night.' God, that felt like weeks ago. 'Dan. The guy. He - That stuff happens when I have one too many, and just kinda, like... reach for the nearest bit of human contact. It's a totally separate thing from, like, real life. You know?'

'You don't have to justify it, it's fine.'

'No, but - the reason I'm bringing it up again, is like... I wanna ask you to dance. And maybe grab a drink back in Philly. And I want you to know that that's not what I'm trying to do with you.' Davey stared at him, trying to gather his thoughts. 'Unless, um - yeah that was probably a really dumb thing to say. Because we work together and I'm like... assuming shit and I'm fucking, I don't know, high on this whole day. But super unprofessional. As usual!' He remembered one of the first repetitions, when he'd inadvertently told Jack that his shtick seemed fake, and how the way Jack had reacted had maybe hinted at just a little insecurity.

'Jack.'

'And I just, like - don't have any fucking boundaries or whatever, so if I'm putting you in a weird position just say and I'll -'

'Jack.'

'-Throw myself off the roof of this place or something, super inappropriate, I just -'

Davey took a step forward, swallowed the lump in his throat, and took hold of Jack's coat, a lapel in each hand, silencing him.

'I wanna dance with you.' He felt Jack's hands come up and rest on his, pulling him in almost imperceptibly.

'Yeah?'

'Yeah.' But they didn't move.

Jack's eyes scanned over Davey's face, and Davey watched them. His gaze lingered just a sec on Davey's mouth and he seemed to count to three before leaning in and placing a kiss there. Just a quick one, moving away before Davey - who had wondered briefly, desperately, if that was what was he was going for, but was way too nervous to check - could do very much about it. Jack leaned back, face stretched into an apologetic grin.

'I'm sorry.' His hands still rested on Davey's. 'I'm sorry, I'm -'

Davey cut him off by pulling on his coat, tugging it so their chests collided, and picking the kiss back up. Jack let out a muffed, relieved moan as Davey's lips landed on his with irresistible purpose and conviction, and stroked a hand up Davey's neck, resting it on his jaw. Davey felt his knees grow weak as Jack kissed him back, not quite convinced that this could actually be happening, but keen to try and prove it to himself. He had learned not to rely on what felt right, because there had been so many false starts, moments when he had woken up and let himself imagine that it was February 3rd before being greeted with the harsh reality of another fucking Groundhog Day, but - and this was in common with the first time it had happened - kissing Jack was like returning to a home he didn't know he had. And the first time wasn't a fluke - this had to prove it. He and Jack were meant to happen.

They broke apart slowly, sporting hazy smiles, each reassured by the other.

'Sorry.' Davey caught his breath, resting their foreheads together. 'Were you saying something?' Jack let out a quiet laugh, grin spreading over his face.

'Shut up.' Jack stroked a thumb over Davey's bottom lip. 'That was awesome. That was awesome! That was a good call. God, Davey.' He leaned back in, catching Davey's mouth in another kiss as he laughed, running his fingertips over Davey's cheek as he blushed.

'I know.'

'I can't believe I'm kissing you. I can't believe how much I've wanted to kiss you all night.'

'You shoulda done it soon as we got here. Saved us some time.'

'Better late than never, right?' Jack picked up Davey's hands from where they rested on his chest. 'Shit! You're so cold - do you still wanna dance?'

'Yes!'

He pulled Davey inside, and after dropping their coats back at their table and stopping to say hello and goodbye to several rosy cheeked Punxsutawnians, made it to the dancefloor. The music the band was playing was soft jazz, a little upbeat, but low and warm enough to have most people chest to chest. Davey raised their already linked hands to shoulder level and slowly, deliberately, took Jack's waist, holding his breath until Jack stepped forward, sliding a hand up Davey's back, resting his palm where Davey's shoulder met his neck. They swayed. Did a quiet little two-step. They were barely touching, apart from their hands, and the almost imperceptible skimming of Davey's cheek against Jack's hair. He stared over Jack's shoulder, kind of aware of the other people, the band onstage, the music, but mostly aware of Jack's chest next to his, his warm hands, the fact that he was starting to play with the hair at the nape of his neck. He wondered what Jack was thinking.

'This where you expected to be when we rolled into Punx last night?' Jack asked, leaning back a little so he could talk to Davey.

'Not quite, somehow. Thought: Groundhog. Breakfast. Done.'

'Little different, huh?'

'Just a tad.' He smiled as Jack's words sank in, and he thought about what he'd say if someone told him as they arrived in Punx on February 1st, that he'd end up holding Jack like this and praying he'd never have to let go. 'On the whole I'd say an improvement.'

'Yeah? Careful, you flatter me, Dave.'

'Oh, it's not you I'm talking about. We wouldn't have met that puppy if we'd gone straight back.'

'Enough to make that four hour drive worth it,' Jack laughed, and Davey watched him, stunned. He spoke softly.

'I might not have been so reluctant. If I knew.'

'I know what you mean.' He took a deep breath in, tightening his hold on Davey's hand just a little. 'It's so wild how... Like, all the stuff that's happened today has put us here, y'know? It could so easily have not... Like, you making the movie.'

'Us making it.'

'Us making it.' He grinned. 'And then. Exploring Punx. Fixing that car. Getting invited. Everything is so... It's all chance, isn't it?'

'Yeah. It is.' Them both taking jobs at the same station. Being born near each other. Being alive at the same time. Davey could only contrive so much. 'Enough to make you feel helpless.'

'But also really lucky.'

Davey nodded. Jack's proximity was making the words harder and harder.

The house lights flashed on and off a few times and someone onstage said something about a last song.

'Wanna get out of here?' He didn't know what time it was. Didn't care. Jack nodded.

They walked over to get their coats and found Crutchie doing the same. He greeted them with a wide grin.

'Good night, guys?'

'Great night, Crutch,' Jack answered for them both. 'You?'

'The best. These people are so cool! Mrs. Blake is giving me a ride cuz it's slippy out, you guys okay getting back?'

'Yeah. Not far, is it?'

'Exactly. Also the walk through the park? Super romantic!'

They glanced at each other as Crutchie gave them a thumbs up, and Jack reached out and brushed Davey's hand with his own.

'Thanks.'

The walk through the park, true to Crutchie's word, was beautiful - white streetlights illuminating the snow, absolute silence apart from their words and footsteps, and the distinct notion that they were probably the only people in the world. It was over far too soon, however, so before fifteen minutes were up they found themselves standing in front of the door to Davey's hotel room, after two or three attempts at saying goodnight - making out.

In the back of his mind Davey was struggling with how late it was, how sleepy they both were, but also the fact that if he was going to lose tonight to another February 2nd, he was obligated to make the most of having crossed this line with Jack again. In the front of his mind he was thinking about how soft Jack's lips were.

'It's late,' Jack whispered into the kiss. 'I should let you sleep.'

'No you shouldn't.'

'You're right.' He resumed. Davey fumbled behind himself for the door handle and let them into the room, trying not to break the kiss as they walked in.

'J-Jack,' he stammered as Jack took a brief detour to his jaw and neck. 'I don't want to rush anything, but. I want you to stay.'

Jack looked at him, smiled, and nodded. 'Yeah. I'll stay.'

//

Davey's alarm clock went off at six, less than four hours after they had finally settled, too high on the newly discovered territory of touching and kissing to sleep any sooner. Davey had succumbed first, his eyes stinging with tiredness, utterly dead to the world yet still resistant to the night claiming him. Jack followed after not too long, taking a few moments in the dark silence to stare at the fuzzy outline of his colleague, marvel at what had changed in just twenty four hours, and look ahead to everything that this trip had granted him.

// He sat at the table, staring into space. 

Every... single... night. Every time he had woken up on this fucking day, Jack had been upstairs with that guy.

Crutchie sat opposite him and he forced himself to give him a shallow smile.

This whole time Davey had been slowly letting himself fall in love with Jack - and he knew, obviously, that it wasn't a betrayal, because as far as Jack was concerned, they were nothing. 

'Sleep alright, Davey?'

'Huh? Oh.' But if it had always happened, then even when he and Jack had kissed, that was less than a day after Jack had been with someone else. 'Yeah, it was okay. You?'

'Great! I love coming back to this place.' 

He himself had slept with Spot despite developing these feelings for Jack. He knew better than anyone, that that didn't mean Spot was the love of his life. Jack wouldn't have kissed him that night if the guy he had slept with was anything other than a one night thing.

'Guys.' Jack sat down next to Crutchie. 'How we doing?'

So why did it feel like he'd been smacked in the face?

He made himself smile again, unable to look directly at Jack so settling on addressing Crutchie and a spot just a couple of inches left of Jack's ear. 

'Thanks for coming down, guys. I know you're excited to get out there. I just wanted to talk to you about an idea I had.' He cleared his throat. He had rehearsed these words so much, falling asleep last night, in the shower just now - he just needed to find the rhythm. He had a whole list of things he needed to get done today, but they all hinged on telling Jack and Crutchie what he wanted to do. Logic dictated that they'd like the idea, since they had when he'd come up with it - but then what about any of this was logical anyway? 'It's gonna be quick, and rough, because I want to get it done today - but I think it's gonna work. It's a feature, for the show, about Punx. Like, about the people who live here, who were born here. We come by for one day every year, piggybacking on their tradition, and running back to Philly, and I just - forget that it's a place.'

Crutchie and Jack stared at him. Crutchie raised his eyebrows slowly and nodded. 

'Like... Humans of Punx.' Jack replied.

'Exactly. I know I'm not the only person who thinks that you have to live in a big city to be fulfilled, at the expense of my wellbeing, and happiness, and just - like, I might be wrong. You know? So let's find out. Crutchie, I thought, if you could tape it, plus be the kind of... like a researcher but you've already done the research, kind of thing. And Jack, I'd really like it if you could present it.' Also I love you and I'm kind of struggling here can you tell. 'I wanna get a really clear idea of this before I pitch it to Andy, but I'll make sure you get paid for the extra work.' He took a breath. Finally looked Jack in the face. 'What do you think?'

//

'My dad... and my dad's dad... and his dad... and his dad - they were all born here. It's just where we are, y'know! If we don't stay in one place, how can anyone find us?'

'You always knew you were gonna stay?'

'Oh yeah. People wanna try and say the grass is always greener on the other side, well, I don't even believe that much. However green the grass is here, that's how green it should be.'

'A lot of people would think a kid your age would wanna travel.' 

'Oh sure, I've travelled. Been to Thailand, Berlin, Australia, spent a summer in London. What a year.' Jack raised his eyebrows but kept holding his mic out to the kid. 'Coming back to Punx was like a warm hug.'

'Can't argue with that, except for maybe the "warm" part. Diane, you moved here?'

'When I was six. From Puerto Rico. Mom and dad heard about this place from a pen pal. Unassuming, they said, with a whole heap of personality. And they said if that's not the perfect place.'

'We were next door neighbours,' Nick continued for her. 'I was in the grade below. But I was smart. So I helped her with her homework through the fence. Then she started helping me with mine. Then we started helping each other with real problems, y'know, acne, parents fighting, sick pets. And we just never really stopped.' He tightened the arm round her shoulders in a playful squeeze and she grinned, closing her eyes. 

Jack turned to the camera, eyes wide, and Davey observed from behind, arms folded, persistent envelope of anticipation unfolding in his stomach. How long had it been since he'd had a project he believed in? 

Not that this had been approved by Andy yet. That came later.

'Thanks, guys. Happy Groundhog Day.' Jack shook their hands and waved as they headed off. 'Well, that was fucking adorable. I wanna watch their movie.' 'Hopefully the guys at the network agree.' He hadn't expected to care this much. Obviously there was a lot at stake - he found himself so sure that this was the key, but then he had been that sure about other things. Kissing Jack, asking for a promotion. No, there was something else. Did he... God, did he care about getting this made? Did he... believe in Punx? Oh, fucking hell.

He walked along the high street with Jack and Crutchie, eyeing the crowds for potential subjects. He didn't know if the people of Punx had surprised him or not, if he had expected their comments to hit so hard - or if he just hadn't thought about it before.

His gaze chanced upon Spot, shuffling along a few yards away, hands in his pockets, scowl poking out from a thick blue scarf and woolly hat. He steered Crutchie and Jack over.

'Excuse me.' Spot turned to him, apparently vaguely disbelieving but not necessarily annoyed at being stopped. 'Do you mind if we ask you a couple of questions about Punx?' He was beautiful. Behind the glare. Actually, maybe still with the glare. Because he was here on this day, and that meant something.

'No thanks.'

'We're looking for some words on what Punxsutawney means to people. Just a few comments?' 

Spot paused, looking like he'd already had about ten ideas jump into his head.

'Doesn't really mean that much to me.'

'Well, that's something. Could we start there?' He stared at Spot. He knew he'd have something to say. 'We don't have to show your face in it. Would that help?' 

'Fine.'

Jack started talking to Spot. Davey nudged Crutchie with a quiet 'May I?' and took the camera, staring down into the monitor and focusing it on Spot's hands as they fidgeted with the ends of his sleeves, his mouth as he paused between words to bite his lip, his feet as he balanced his weight while deciding what words to use. 

'I think Punx is... a place. Just like every other place. Rains here. Some people voted for Trump. Some didn't. Might as well be here over anywhere else.'

'Shouldn't you love where you live?'

'That's unrealistic. I think. Maybe.'

'You could move?'

'I could. I don't... love... this town. But I am trying.' He sighed, squinting up into the bright cloud. 'Look, truth is, I trust my dad, and he picked this place. Even though he was a twenty year old punk when he came here. That means something, that he chose it. I coulda grown up in Brooklyn, where he was born. I've never been. Wouldn't know what to do if I got there. Don't know if that means I'm scared, or... Yeah.'

'See yourself taking the leap soon?'

'Maybe. Hopefully. Probably not - I still ah, have that little bit of hope. From him. That this is where I should be. Catch me when I'm eighty still hanging on to it.'

'You haven't talked to that many people about this, have you?'

'Would you? Sun shines out of Punx's ass, haven't you heard.'

'Crutchie...' Davey leaned over, trying not to disturb Spot's rhythm. 'See that guy over there - the one on his own? Can you grab him?' He flicked his gaze back and forth between Spot unloading, and Crutchie bringing Race over. 

'You say you're trying to have faith in this place because your dad chose it,' Davey started, keeping an ear out for Crutchie to finish explaining to Race what they were doing. He stepped back to capture both Spot and Race's midsections in the frame. 'Can I ask how you came to Punx?'

Race stared at him, then glanced at Spot, and took a deep breath in. 

'Got a job here,' he nodded. 'Start on Monday.'

'Excited?' 

'Yeah. I'm not sure. I don't know if I'm anything yet.'

'Where are you from?'

'Manhattan.'

'Manhattan? Lot of people might try and do the reverse, right?'

'Well, y'know. I might go back. But they say everyone leaves the city eventually, right? I'm just... speeding it up.'

'First impression of Punx?' Davey glanced up as he asked this, noting that Spot was staring up at Race from under his eyelashes rather than using the lull in his own interview to escape. 

'I like it. I think. Everyone's nice. That might grate, I'm not sure, you know when people are like... TOO nice. It can be a bit much. But uh, no. So far I can see maybe why people spend their whole lives here.'

'People... feel like they don't have a choice.' Spot spoke up, in a low voice, now squinting into the distance. 'But they think that's a good thing.'

'If they think it's a good thing doesn't that make it a good thing?' Davey cast the camera over to where what looked like four generations of one family were spilling into the square. 

'I guess so. Look, Punx gives people a really strong sense of identity, I think, and if that's the identity that you want, then you're laughing.' Spot left it there, glancing down at the floor. 'That enough?'

'That's great. Thank you.' He reached out and shook Spot's hand, then Race's. Falling asleep with Spot bound to wake up without him meant he'd never actually said bye to him, and as the clock struck seven and Davey found himself drawn towards the square to do the broadcast, he felt a swell of melancholy well up inside him, one that reminded him that not everyone in Punx was unbearably chipper. And Spot was just a guy, he wasn't here to be a character in Davey's story. He lived here, he'd be here when they finally left. All of Punx would still be here. 

He passed the camera back to Crutchie and glanced over his shoulder as they walked to see Race and Spot still standing there, talking. Race tentatively extended a hand out, and after a long couple of seconds, Spot shook it.

'Solid shout on the interviewing people, Dave,' Jack addressed him as Crutchie checked the feed with the Philly studio. 'I think you've caught Punx at its Punxiest.'

'Yeah?'

'We got some solid stuff already, and it's just seven!'

'I hope it stays like that. I wanna edit something together really soon to send back. I just... don't know how much to expect from the people that live here, is that terrible to say?'

'Nah. Not everyone will have some groundbreaking comment, y'know? I bet not everyone even knows how they really feel about Punx.'

'Let's hope we haven't already spoken to the only four people to have any comments.'

'Does this mean we're staying a little longer after the broadcast?'

'Yeah. I mean. We can play it by ear. If you're okay with that?'

'I'm way okay with that.'

He stood behind Crutchie as they did the broadcast, arms folded across his chest, watching Jack with a nagging discomfort. He had woken up thinking that he had this. That he had jumped over the obstacles and finally been able to formulate the kind of day that was the opposite of that first day - engage with Punx, look around, don't wish the day away - but seeing someone else in Jack's bed wasn't the kind of thing that happened on a perfect day. It had made him want to turn right around, hide in bed, and start again with a day that didn't involve him imagining Jack with someone else. 

Plus, there had been numerous other times he'd thought that he'd had it. The day he broke his arm. The one where he kissed Jack. And yet here he was, on Groundhog Day. Again.

But then. It had happened. It had always happened. Even if he didn't see it. It would always have, and maybe... Maybe he could never know what a perfect day felt like, or what kind of day would end the cycle. He was going into this entirely blind, but the personal leaps and bounds that he had already made in trying to escape this situation made him... almost glad that it had happened? 

He froze, and tears stung his eyes, and a lump materialised in his throat. He hated it, he hated that it was happening. But then, maybe, he hated the person who it had happened to. The angry, tired, frustrated Davey who waited and waited for bad days to make way for the good, instead of trying to formulate good ones for himself. He might not have looked twice at Jack, if all this shit hadn't happened. Or anyone, really, who wasn't directly related to his career and its progression. But there was value in the last however many days, despite the fact that he was in exactly the same place every morning. There was value in talking to these people, the ones who lived in Punx all year long, who did Groundhog Day every February - and value in taking a break, and chilling the fuck out. Whatever happened that made this cycle stop, wherever he was with Jack, or with the station, when he woke up on February 3rd, it was probably where he was meant to be, and he realised that he would always have to be thankful that the universe glued him to this day.

The cold gust of wind broke him out of his reverie, and he looked around to see people starting to leave, snow starting to fall, and Crutchie lowering the camera.

'Earth to Dave?' Jack's tone was kind, face concerned. He stepped forward and Davey blinked several times, shaking his head.

'Shit, sorry guys. Good job.' Snow started to fall. Jack lifted his hands up to catch the snow.

'It's snowing!'

Davey smiled. 'How about we go get some more footage at the diner? Brunch is on the station.'

//

'I cried all night when I moved here. It was for my husband, William, he was born here but we met at college in Rhode Island, you see.' They sat opposite the old woman in the diner, Jack asking questions, Crutchie filming, Davey watching distantly as he edited together the footage they already had, one earphone in, half-listening to her. 'And I'm from Milwaukee. So not exactly centre of the universe, but not nowhere, you know. And we got here, and I unpacked, and I realised I had forgotten my perfume, the one my mother bought me every Christmas. Left it on the counter at home. Well, William said we can just go out and get you some more. But the nearest department store was a four hour drive. And I just thought... Carla, what are you doing here?'

He stared at the laptop screen, brow furrowed. The people of Punx had come through with the quotes. But it wasn't quite there. He let out a huge sigh as Jack sat down next to him after winding the interview down.

'How's it going, Louis Theroux?'

'It's... Almost. I like it. But I can tell it's not done.' He pushed the laptop so Jack could see, and Jack watched it, contemplative, for a few moments. 

'Punx.'

'Punx?'

'Right. Context. Shots of the town, right?'

'Shit, of course! How did I miss that? Can you think of anywhere specific?'

'Yeah! We can just explore too, right, see what we find?'

'Let's go.' He stood up, packing his laptop away, trying not to pin too much on the phrase see what we find. They found Crutchie sitting at the counter, deep in conversation with the server. 

'Crutch - sorry to interrupt. We were gonna go get some footage of the scenery.'

'That's a great idea, guys! Do you mind if I catch you up? I haven't seen Greta since a year ago!' He leaned down and grabbed his camera bag from under his stool. Davey took it from him. 

'No problem. Hey, thanks again for doing all this extra filming, I know you wanted to spend the day catching up with people.'

'Nah, c'mon, you guys know this is exactly my cup of tea.'

'It is...' Jack unzipped the camera bag and switched it on, handing it to Davey. 'Crutchie, tell us how you feel about Punx.' Crutchie grinned as Davey lifted the camera. 

'Come on guys... You wanna interview locals and stuff.'

'You're practically a local, man.'

'Well, that's it. I love Punx.'

'Why?'

'Because it's... it's modest. It's quiet. You come here, and no-one's trying to prove anything, y'know? No-one shoving anything in your face, no-one trying to outsmart one another, or crap on each other. I just think... it's a really beautiful town. It's the perfect antidote to living in a big city.'

'Is that why you make such a huge effort to get to know everyone?'

'Yeah. Well, I do that at home. I just think everyone's got a whole story - we've seen that today, talking to people. But the kinda people that live here. They're just, somehow, the best of people.' 

'What would you say to people who think that small town living is for small people?'

'I think that every person has the potential to make the best of any place. You're gonna be the same person whether you live in Punx or Philly, but you've gotta know that beauty can be found everywhere. You've gotta love life, and life ain't localised to one spot. I don't know, maybe you have to see that before you can appreciate where you came from.'

Davey closed his eyes for a moment, and nodded. 'Thanks, Crutchie.' 

'You okay, Dave?'

'Yeah. I just. You got it in one, man.' He smiled at Crutchie. 'We'll leave you alone.'

//

They walked away from the bakery. The puppy squirmed in Jack's arms and Davey placed the second half of the cupcake in Jack's mouth, re-enacting one of his favourite portions of this day's previous versions. It felt like years since these events had occurred for the first time, though he always remembered that they would be happening, whether he was here to experience them or in the hotel room ignoring them studiously. Again, they were a pleasant sort of familiar. He could help out, so he was. But he had to let the man fall off the ladder. Because he couldn't change everything. 

'Shit, that was a wild few minutes,' Jack quipped as they continued towards the park, after checking that the man was okay. 'I'm so glad you caught that little guy, that was way impressive.'

'What can I say, maybe it's my calling. I'm kind of thinking...' He paused as they entered the park, a vast white field peppered with figures playing in the snow, almost too bright to look at. 'We can juxtapose what Spot was saying with this view. And then maybe some shots of the main road, of people going about their business, with what Crutchie was saying about the people here. Put the narratives of that young couple and then the older couple on either side. And Race's story just in the middle.'

'That sounds like a plan, man.' Jack kicked at the snow as Davey panned around the landscape. He cleared his throat. 'Davey, about this morning.'

It was almost forgotten. In the sense that it wasn't at the forefront of his mind in that second. But Jack's words brought it screaming back.

'This morning?'

'When you saw that person in my bed. I saw you... see him.'

'Oh, I barely...'

'Yeah. Sure. I'm really sorry about it. I know it's unprofessional, we're away for business. I just. It's a bad habit of mine. Or a good habit, depending on how you look at it. And it's not a secret, that I'm bi, I just, y'know. Never expected to shove it in my producer's face.'

'You didn't shove it in my face. I came to your door. You've got nothing to be sorry for.' He paused for a second. 'We've all done it.'

'Yeah... Yeah. I guess. Thanks.'

A bad habit. Davey understood that. It was that kind of habit that had brought him back to Spot when he was at his lowest. That need for touch, just for someone to pay you attention. Maybe he was filling in the blanks too much, but it was almost reassuring in a way. Jack wasn't perfect, and he wasn't in Punx just to be a background character in Davey's redemption arc, he had his own shit. He was glad, in a way, that Jack had gone as far as acknowledging it, because even though it was technically none of Davey's business, he almost sort of wanted it to be. He had gone from not caring about Jack, to seeing him in that new light that made it look like the sun shone out of his ass, to maybe seeing that he wasn't just there to be a solution to Davey's Groundhog Day crisis. He was just a guy - a hot guy, who slept with strangers, who tried to make jokes to cheer people up even when they didn't feel like it, and was insecure and hard on himself too. 

Davey found himself overcome with the impulse to take the end of Jack's scarf and use it to pull him in for a long warm kiss as the snow fell around them in that Punxsutawney park, but swallowed it down, trying yet again to put himself in Jack's shoes. Maybe they would find themselves back where they were that one amazing day, and maybe they wouldn't. Maybe it wasn't about that. 

'So what do you think?' 

'Hmm?

Jack nodded down at the camera. 'Got enough stuff to send to Andy?'

'I... I think so. For now. It's gonna be like. A first draft, before we ask him to commit.'

'He'll understand that we did it in less than a day, right?'

'Hopefully.' He stashed the camera in the bag. 'Do you wanna come help me edit this thing? I mean - not to, like, stop you exploring Punx. But. Your input has been really helpful today.' He could still ask, right? What, was it illegal for him to want to spend time with the guy he liked? Worst Jack could do was say no. God, that would be the worst. 

'Yeah. That sounds fun.' 

They headed back out through the park, and happened upon the broken down car. Again, Davey had found that he'd enjoyed this part of the Good Day, so let Jack take over (remembering with a shiver those words Did it to impress you, wondering if they were conditional, still relevant today.) When they arrived back from the auto shop and the car was back up and running, one of the women got out of the car and placed a hand on Jack's forearm.

'Now, boys.' More new. More different. Progress? 'Don't think we haven't noticed you all being so nice to all our people. Asking our stories, getting to know us, I mean really! Usually people like you, you just soar through like Punx is the last place you wanna be!' Davey glanced at the ground then, wondering if he was meant to feel like he was getting told off. 'We love it, we love talking about Punx, and we wanna say thank you for listening. We have a dance every year to celebrate - or commiserate - Phil coming out of his hole, and we'd be honoured if you'd join us tonight.' Her grip was tight on Jack's arm, he'd joke about it lightly as they walked away. 

'That's really sweet, Mrs...'

'O'Dwyer.’

'Mrs. O'Dwyer. I wouldn't miss it.' Jack grinned at her. 'Davey, down to boogie with Punxsutawney Phil?'

'Oh, you know it.' He nodded, answering without thinking, just knowing that he had to go. 'Means a lot, ma'am.'

'You'll save me a dance?' Jack directed this at her, and Davey definitely didn't have a flash of jealousy, because that would be immature.

'Oh, stop it.' She twinkled at him, a grin creasing her eyes.. 'From six thirty, down at the community centre. Til then!'

They drove away, and Davey and Jack continued back to the hotel, past the bar. Davey winced as he remembered he had business in here as well, and couldn't tell if he had to go in to stop the fight or not. He'd almost gotten beaten up when he had done it before, and only really got away with it because Jack knew what was going on. But if he didn't, then someone else would get beat up in his place. Who was to say that, like the man falling off the ladder, it wasn't just something that was meant to happen? It was like a compulsive ritual, he felt like he had to have all the pieces in place for this day to go right, but he couldn't figure out how to make this piece fit.

'Dave, you okay?' Jack was a few steps ahead of where Davey had stopped in his tracks. 

'Yeah. Sorry. Just. Headache, all of a sudden.' Half true. 

'Oh, dude. Do you wanna duck in here and get some water?' Jack nodded towards the bar and Davey stared at him, unsure how clearly his desperation to go in had transmitted to Jack.

'Yeah. Good idea.' He turned around and walked inside with him.

He surveyed what he had seen before. Men everywhere, a group of men in fleeces and fur-lined hats playing pool, a gang of bikers standing in a wide circle, that one fateful pint of beer in its precarious position between them. He watched the man he knew was destined for a fight laugh at something, head thrown back, hacking noises up into the air, and walked forward, towards the bar. Slowly, delicately, he reached the table, and as subtly as he could, pulled it towards him, just a couple of inches. 

He held his breath.

No-one saw.

He took a step back and watched as the pool cue bypassed it, and then the biker turned around, barely seeing the pair of them, before picking up the beer and taking a gulp.

As easy as that.

But now Jack was looking at him weirdly.

'... What?' 

'Hmm?' He held Jack's gaze, mind racing for an explanation to the random action. Nothing. Then 'I thought that guy was going to knock the other guy's drink over. Thought. Just in case.'

'Oh. Good eye.'

//

When they arrived back at the hotel, finally, they sat on Davey's bed, ready to work. Then two hours passed, and Jack found himself laying against the pillows, keeping an eye on Davey's laptop screen from where Davey found himself  on his stomach, editing the video together.

'The second one.' 

'Yeah? You sure?'

'Yeah. It's more... like, it's... I don't know, I just like it better.'

Both had been thinking hard for a long time. The video was almost done. 'I mean, it's not the final thing, right? He'll know that this is... But I still wanna... God damn it.' Davey shut his tired eyes. 'I'm gonna buy our entire video production team dinner when we get back.'

'It's good, Dave - you're doing great! Just, don't think about it too much, right? Let's take one minute to not think about it, then watch from the beginning. Yeah?'

'Yeah.' Davey pushed the laptop away. Caring about so many things simultaneously was exhausting. He barely had time to celebrate being in bed... on bed... with Jack again, because this god damn video had to be done. Plus there was the matter of the dance he now had to go to. Somehow he felt like he couldn't fake the flu and duck out of it like he had with senior prom. 'Excited about this dance thing?'

'Sure! It'll be something, you know?'

'Totally. I'm looking forward to seeing you dance up a storm with Mrs O'Dwyer.'

'Oh man, you should be.' 

Was this dance his boss level? It was so hard to try and discourage himself from thinking that. He felt like both thinking about it and not thinking about it were equally damaging. 

'You might hate me for saying this... I don't know...' Jack stared out the window. 'I'm almost glad we got stuck here, y'know? Like, it feels weird even saying that we are "stuck" here. To think that we were gonna just... race back to Philly. Miss all this stuff.'

'No, I... I know exactly what you mean. It's been a good day.'

'It has. That dope cupcake.'

'The puppy.'

'Those views in the park.'

'Hearing peoples' stories.'

'Getting asked out by a car full of old ladies!'

'They didn't all ask you out!' 

'Ah, they would have. If it wasn't so cold, they woulda swarmed.'

'I believe you. Your mechanic skills were... very impressive.' Davey had rolled over on to his back and now gazed up the ceiling, thinking that Jack could take what he said either as a joke or at face value and he would be fine whichever way. A long moment of silence hung between them, which Jack broke.

'Should we watch the thing?'

'Yeah.' He turned over, and played the video. They watched in silence, the blue glow of the laptop filling up the room that had grown dark around them in the time they'd been working. It was about five minutes long. 

'Dave...' Jack spoke first. 'It's good.' Davey craned his neck to look at Jack, all stretched out on the bed, sleeves rolled up, tie loose.

'Really?'

'Yes! It's Punx, but it's like... Like it's clever, and a different angle, and just. Like. I think you did really, really well with it.'

'You're not just saying that.'

'No! No, if it was crap - not that it would be - but like, if it was, I'd find a really tactful but transparent way of criticizing it. But I literally don't need to.'

'Shit. God, I can't even tell anymore. Do you think I can send it?'

'I think you can send it.'

Hi Andy. 

While we were stuck here Jack, Crutchie and I decided to do some work on a little feature. We think it could have real value if you decide to develop it. I really hope you like it, because I do.

He clicked send, and took a deep breath in. 

'Cool.' 

'Cool.' 

He stared at the screen, eyes unfocused, imagining the email pinging across the state. All the energy had sapped out of him and he had barely noticed. Jack let out a yawn.

'When did it get so late?' 

It was four.