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[It startles a laugh of indignation out of him.] 'High maintenance'? Oh, I'll show you high maintenance. [Dorian gets to his feet.] Come on, help me pack this up. We're moving to another spot.

What? Now you're just trying to be difficult! [Judas laughs, shaking his head.] Alright, where to now? We already determined there's no Judas trees around. As much as my birth is a hanging occasion.

You are relentless. [Dorian wraps it all up very quickly, grabs Judas's arm, and starts dragging him along.] Just trust me. I'll know it when I see it.

I do my best.

[He follows as he's told, watching Dorian.]

[Dorian has his eyes ahead, but he is looking for something very particular. A few minutes pass before he picks what he wants, and then he walks straight to it: an old, sturdy-looking tree, with heavy branches. Dorian throws the blanket over his shoulder and passes the basket to Judas.] Hold this for me.

[And he takes a running launch at the tree, getting a foot-hold in a knot, grasping a lower tree branch, and yanking himself on his own momentum onto a thick branch that can comfortable seat the pair of them. Dorian balances on the branch, laying the blanket up over top.

He grins down at Judas.] Toss the basket up to me. We're eating up here.

[Judas takes the basket without question and watches with some level of awe. Dorian always pulls out some surprise. He passes the basket up when prompted, and finding a good footing, starts climbing. Of course, first he has to wrap the shawl tighter around himself so as not to trip.]

I'm not sure if that's high maintenance, but you're full of surprises anyway. Fickle, rather.

[This seating makes it a lot easier to kick Judas in the shin.] I can start sobbing, if you would prefer.

--ow, hey! [He grumbles as he settles onto the branch.] I'm good thanks.

[And just like that, the bright smile returns.] Good. [Dorian reassembles their food. Of course, now there is the added challenge of not knocking the food over and letting it all go to waste. Have fun, Judas!]

[Judas will take the challenge of the precarious balancing. Mainly by setting things on his own lap. Certainly the best solution is to guard it himself.] It's nice up here... Even if it's a dumb spot for a picnic.

And you're an idiotic person to have a picnic with. It's consistent. [What a treasurer. That just forces Dorian to sit closer so he can get at the food.]

[He laughs - what else would anyone expect.] Well that's true. I hope you were never mistaken of that.

Oh, I was very well aware. But your stupidity is one of your most charming features. [Also: cue return of the wine glasses.]

[Oh. He'd almost hoped that might have been forgotten.] I could say the same for you.

You could, but then I might be forced to shove you out of the tree. Not a deterrent to you directly, I know, but all that food you're protecting may protest.

[The ultimate in threats, right there. The wine glass is firmly placed in Judas's hand.] Drink up, darling.

'Darling'? How much have you had to drink? [There goes the eyebrow shooting up again. Oh well, Judas takes a drink, instinctively huddling over the food a little more.] ...And don't even say that. I'll be on edge for ever more.

Not nearly enough. [Dorian will answer that no matter how much he has drunk.] Do you want a list of pet names? [He slips his hands around the back of Judas's neck, pulling him closer with seeming artless attention to not unbalancing them both. When he speaks, he does so quietly, in a voice only for the man across from him.] My darling, my dear, my sweet one, my love, my traitor, my Judah. [With a smile, he takes a kiss.] The important part, of course, is the possessive pronoun. As long as you're mine, it doesn't matter what you are. Everything means nothing except what we share.

[Though he shies to the touch, Judas doesn't flinch in the same way he might normally. There's the blush, mostly. Dorian's so embarrassing. And then at once there is both a leap and sinking feeling somewhere deep in his chest. It pierces and pulls in its awful hope, some impossible happiness that mustn't be allowed. Caught up in the isolating feeling that simple term brings, Judas hardly reacts to what comes after. Not until he deliberately forces himself to, to pretend for both his sake and Dorian's that he misheard.

'Everything means nothing except what we share'. He'll choose to hang on to those words, at least. 'As long as you're mine, it doesn't matter what you are'. A hand moves to wrap around Dorian's, more Dorian's wrist than his hand, and Judas returns the kiss. Tears threaten, but he feels he must keep them back. It would be stupid to cry now, because of such a line. So instead of addressing any of the points which truly touch him for better or worse, Judas will latch onto something else entirely. Make a joke of it. Though the wavering of the tears he must keep in, come out in his voice.]

'Your traitor' is an interesting one. I thought I was Christ's traitor.

[Even Dorian is not deaf enough to mishear that tremble. He stops, but when he draws away, he leaves Judas his wrist to hold. Dorian studies Judas's face, looking for the cracks he has pressed into now.

Distracted, Dorian explains himself with more honesty than confidence, still seeking his mistake in the hope that he will not repeat it.] You betrayed him, but I'm the one who can call you 'traitor' without hurting you. That makes the word mine to have. Not anyone else's.

[A small smile rises. Part in earnest, part in an effort to push back those thoughts and tears. It doesn't matter what you are, those words may not have been directed at what they hit in Judas. But it doesn't matter. They carry that implication with 'traitor' and 'Judah' preceding them. In his mind, anyway. How can anyone be so kind to him without even realising it? Perhaps because everything means nothing except what they share. Those phrases justify eachother.

Judas' thumb strokes the back of Dorian's hand.] It's strange, but true. You could call me anything and I wouldn't take offense or be hurt, no matter how awful it would be from anyone else. Myself included. [Unless it's kind words, it seems. Those may hurt more for coming from Dorian, given the right ones.]

[They each have their ways of wounding one another. Dorian is speaking around three words he cannot think about saying. And with every sentence, he is telling Judas what those three missing words mean.

Dorian takes comfort in the physical contact, eased by it into not fretting so much about what has happened without Dorian realizing it.] I'm glad to hear it. I imagine I'll have a lot of angry things to call you in the future. [Dorian is oddly pleased about that. He enjoys having people who can conduct a real argument with him. It's distressing for him to think that his anger wounds, so their spats have served to make Dorian more comfortable and open around Judas.]

[He laughs. Arguments affect Judas much the same. He will always be easily angered by little things, and more often than not will voice it. But as much as anyone wants their complaints to be heard, he wouldn't want them to be taken too much to heart. And for Judas now to be upset with someone is more a sign of trust than anything.] Good, I can take them. I hope you can too.

Haven't I proved I can? [He taps Judas once between his eyes, before stealing some more food.] As I said, you're fun when you're irritated. I like the look you get on your face. Even if that face is shouting angrily at me.

'Fun', really? And I'm not so sure about whatever look I get being particularly enjoyable...

Aesthetics and pleasure are both my realms of expertise. I'm afraid you don't get a vote in their valuation.

[He is too comfortable with playing the little lord. But it's extra fun with Judas.]

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