Actually you kind of need to pull Dex aside for a moment.

"Hey, in a little bit, for sure," you say, shaking your head apologetically, and when Scott gives you an agreeable yeah-sure-of-course nod in return, you turn back to Dex, who of course knows you well enough to be on his guard against you trapping him in some kind of confrontation, and is currently eyeing his escape routes. "I just—actually, would you mind giving us a few minutes on our own?" you say to Scott, taking note of the sudden slump in Dex's shoulders as he realizes this is going to be a real conversation, not some superficial whispered don't-let-Scott-hear thing.

"Sure, I kinda wanted to go down and look at the water anyway," Scott says, pulling a beer out of the cooler. "Be back in a while," he says, and adjusts his ball cap before leaving through the sliding glass door that leads out to the deck.

"Relax, Captain-Crappin. I'm not going to yell at you," you say to Dex, pulling two beers out of the cooler and walking them over to the kitchen where he's pretending to be busy. You motion for him to sit at the table.

He snorts at your stupid reference to the time both of you made yourselves catastrophically sick to your stomachs on Halloween candy. "Actually, it's Lieutenant Colonel Crappin now, if you please," he says, accepting one of the beers from you and taking a seat. "I've enjoyed some career advancement in the years subsequent to that particular incident."

"Oh, my apologies, Colonel," you say, giving him a smart salute that makes him roll his eyes. "I didn't realize enshitted members were eligible for commissioned rank."

"Oof. Not your strongest material." But Dex smiles, a little grudgingly.

"I know, they can't all be home runs."

There's a pause.

"Oh," Dex says after a second. "I was giving you a moment because I thought you were about to burst into song, a la when-you're-sliding-into-first. I think you made the right call, though, letting the current amount of bowel humor stand as-is."

You give him a little smile. "See? Even I'm growing up."

Dex sighs and takes a drink of his beer, looking a bit pained. "All right, let's have it. You're pissed. You need me to stop being such a prick about everything so I don't ruin this vacation you've been looking forward to for so long. Is that about right? Because I get it, but—"

"—not exactly right," you cut in quickly, and he raises his eyebrows at you in the way that means, go on. "It's more like... I guess part of why I find it upsetting that you guys aren't getting along—no, don't do that, okay?—" You make a face at him when he opens his mouth to deny their obvious months-long conflict. "I might be naïve in certain areas, but I'm not an idiot, and even an idiot would notice how patently weird you're both acting and how you've been avoiding each other for months. I mean, seriously. I've been treading lightly and not challenging that because I was hoping things would mend themselves—" You leave off when this makes Dex drop his gaze to the table, then decide to just continue. "—okay, forget it. But it's insulting, if either of you genuinely believed that me going along with this till now meant I don't know that something is going on between you two."

You stop, to take a sip of your beer, and to let him say something if he wants to.

"I didn't," he says after a moment. "Believe that. But it was easier to just leave it alone, since you were willing to go along with it."

"And if I stopped being?" you ask, which makes him sigh again.

"Then I don't know," he says, with an unhappy-looking shrug. "Okay, like you said, it's obvious he and I had a falling-out. But do you think... maybe you can do us both the favor of letting that just be, and not trying to fix things or pick it apart for answers?" He raises his eyes to yours again, entreating you. "Because I don't think it's actually going to accomplish what you want it to, Birdie."

This conversation is putting an unexpected lump in your throat. You clear your throat, hard, and take a long drink of your beer to buy you a moment. "If that's what you want," you say finally, feeling surprisingly sad that on day one of your special friendship restoration-vacation, you're being asked to completely give up that objective, and so reasonably and sincerely that if you refused and kept forcing the matter, it would honestly make you the real asshole in this situation.

"This just makes me really sad," you say, looking down the neck of your beer bottle. "We used to do everything together, and now I have to split my time between you guys like you're my divorced parents. I know that sounds ridiculous and self-centered. People are allowed to stop being friends. I just feel like we've always been really special together. As the three of us, but also all the twosies of us. We just really worked together. And now you're asking me to give up on us when I don't even know why we stopped being an us," you say helplessly.

Dex slides his hand over to grab yours, giving it a squeeze. "I know," he says. "And I am. Yeah. I know. It sucks. To give up something that feels like it might still be fixable. But I'm asking you to trust me that it isn't."

You let go of the beer bottle so you can wipe a little at your eyes. Your hand is so cold it almost makes your eyes water more, so you stop. Dex reaches across the table and pulls a napkin out of the dispenser and gives that to you. You wad it up and use it to dab at your eyes, feeling overall rather foolish that you actually believed this silly trip would fix whatever major faultline it was that opened up and left you standing here trying to pull the pieces of this collapsed building back together.

"Can you at least reassure me of what it isn't?" you ask after a moment, clearing your throat again.

"What do you mean?" Dex asks, shaking his head.

"Is it it about me? Did I do something? Or are you guys like... fighting over me somehow? I feel so fucking self-absorbed asking that, but like... is any of this because he and I were flirting at that party before things went south?"

"Oh," he says, looking a little surprised. "No, it wasn't you. Isn't you. I know you already know I got annoyed with you that night but... honestly? It was stupid, unfair bullshit. He and I weren't getting along, and I wanted you to read my mind and side with me. I was being an asshole. I was wrong."

You think you believe him. "Because this isn't some weird competition where each of you is low-key trying to break up my friendship with the other, and keep me for yourself?"

"Right. It's not that. I promise. He would tell you the same thing."

You ask anyway. "And that means if I flirted with him, you would be fine with that because you don't need to have me all to yourself."

There's a little flicker of something in his eyes that you can't read, and then he nods. "I only offer you the same advice I would any friend considering any romantic overture: Don't get your heart broken."

For some reason, this is the part that makes your eyes fill up again. "So what do we do about this stupid trip?" you ask, wiping at them with the napkin and trying to shake off the heavy-hearted feeling you get from realizing your special vacation can't be anything remotely like you imagined, because two of you can't even stand to be in earshot of each other. "Should we just go home?"

"I don't really love that idea," he says. "I know you looked forward to this for ages. After how long you were grounded, I feel like you should get at least one thing you wanted out of this and not have to see your parents for a couple weeks. Let's ask him what he thinks, when he comes back. Maybe we can just sort of stay out of each other's way like we've been doing."

"Yeah," you sigh, "since this joint custody thing makes me feel so fucking great."

He gives you a half-hearted little smile. "At least there's plenty of hooch."

"Cheers to that, anyway," you say, standing up from the table.

"Hey... Birdie?" he says, sounding a little uncertain as he gets up too. "Thanks for not being shitty about this. You wouldn't be entirely outside your rights to be pissed at me."

"Yeah I would be," you say. "Because I love you, and I could tell it mattered. I don't feel very happy about it, but forcing it feels like a wrong move that I'd be making for selfish reasons."

Dex's eyes look a little damp at that. "Well, thanks," he says a bit thickly, and you hold your arms open. "I love you, too," he says, returning your hug.

"Just don't go falling out with me next, okay?"

You feel him shake his head hard, before releasing you. "Never."