Tree House Tree House

I wanted to show another facet of my relationship with JB. I've shown you some of the dirty side and some of the irritable side and the moments of panic and insanity, but I thought I would show you something that I haven't been very open with. When he said he thought all my caring was hidden, I realized that it is because I present it that way. So, here's a bit of a moment for you (Sir/lola):

lola climbs up the rope ladder and into the tree house. Sir looks up, surprised. lola unrolls a rope for him to come join.
We have a tree house? Nice.
We do indeed. It's a sanctuary. It's bug-free too.
Sir clambers up hand over hand.
Nice.
lola grins.
Tough guy.
Who needs younger brothers?
Sir grins.
I don't. You can have mine.
Sir laughs.
Ahhhh. What’s he done?
He's on my ass right now to have me do his resume again. I do that thing all the time.
lola groans unhappily.
Ummm.
lola perches on a bean bag.
He job hunting?
lola takes a Cherry Vanilla Dr Pepper out of the mini-fridge.
I suppose, yes. You want one?
Sir looks around for something manly to sit on.
Um hmm.
lola nods at the recliner.
Yup.
Sir grins at the chair.
That must have been a bitch to haul up here.
lola takes out a second soda, shakes it, and then hands it to him.
I paid a day-laborer to do it. No worries.
lola grins, mischievously.
Sir takes it and smiles sarcastically at her.
It's leather...your faaavorite.
Sir sits down and leans back.
Nice. What color?
Sir taps the top of the can and opens it slowly, letting it hiss and defuse.
Actually, it's made of baby cow hide and rubbed down with um...oils and stuffed with pima cotton fibers.
Sir laughs.
Very luxurious...black.
Nice.
It massages too.
Poor baby cow though. Ooo...massage. Fuck the cow! Where's the control?
lola pouts, disappointed that he wasn't fizzed.
No, no...it died of natural causes. And all it's parts were used.
lola points to the control.
Duh.
Sir puts it on spine-melter setting and touches the sky.
Aaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…
lola laughs and wiggles down into the bean bag.
Nice! I have a flat screen TV in here and a sweet sound system.
Um hmm.
Sir grins and switches it off.
Thank you, little one. You wanna ride?
No, no...bean bag for me. AND…there's an escape hatch to your ASTIN. With an I.
Sir bites his fist.
That was nearly so sweet. If I ever start a car company, I'll name it Astin. And what of tunes?
Yeah, lotsa tunes.
lola points to the CD collection which is noticeably missing all Oasis albums...
Ok. Put on Stairway to Heaven. We'll get hippy high.
Nice...the Dolly Parton version though.
Sir laughs.
Damn! Foiled again.
lola presses all the high tech buttons on her electronic gadgets and lowers the dimmer lights. Sir takes Oasis albums—the full catalogue—out of his man bag.
I wouldn't do that.
Sir grins.
Just for later. I'll distract you when I put them on….
This sound system has been trained to categorically destroy crap music...Oasis hasn't got a chance…. Just a friendly warning.
Sir mumbles. lola grinssssss.
Better than BHG with their cock-and-fart jokes.
lola hisses.
Never speak ill of Jimmy in my presence. I will have your Aston made into a Rubix cube.
lola digs her feet into the hella plushie carpet.
I feel like I should be teaching a class at a really alternative school.
You wouldn't know where to start.
lola snuggles under her Teletubbies blanket.
A class about neo-feminism in relation to Hyundais.
lola laughssss.
Mm, neo-feminism. Technically referred to as Third Generation.
Sir grins and sips his drink
Hmm. I like to stick to the common usage.
lola throws cupcakes at his drink, causing it to spill all over his button-up, black shirt.
Common...like you.
lola grins. Sir pauses, statue-like, and looks up slowly.
Now that wasn't nice, little one.
lola laughs...what have you against cupcakes? They are sugary and delicious...like me.
lola smirks.
I have plenty against them when used as an offense missile system.
That was HARDLY a miss-sile.
Missile…if it's thrown…missile.
Miss-sile. You're wrong. Deal with it.
lola grins. Sir grins. lola unwraps a second cupcake and looks him over.
Someone wants a beating.
Do you? I'd be happy to oblige.
Sir smirks. lola pats her lap.
Hop up.
Obvious…and you wouldn't know where to start.
I would!
Sir says nothing. lola nibbles her cupcakes all dainty and queer-British like.
Simply scrumptious.
Sir slowly holds his half empty can out to the side.
If you's wants to play like that…we's can play like that.
I'm playing like nothing.
Sir slowly starts to tip the can.
Just enjoying this fine carpet and cupcakes. Why would you damage the carpet?
Sir grins.
You'll only have to clean it. And no one wants that.
Nope. Why would you damage my shirt?
Well, cause THAT'S hilarious. You're all frosted and sweet now.
Sir stops and grins.
Feeling guilty, little one?
Not the sour-ass grumpy puss like every other day.
lola smiles daintily and crosses her legs at her ankles.
I don't have any idea what you could mean.
lola blinks absently and unwraps another cupcake. Sir makes his most sincere of faces.
Noooooooo…course not.
lola puts this cupcake covertly in his shoe, frosting down. Sir takes a shirt out of his bag and changes.
Come up here.
lola squishes back down farther...no, I like this bean bag...you come here. I'll scoot over. It's a bag made for two.
lola grins.
Here. Now.
lola stops smiling...fine, but you're missing out. Don't say I didn't try to tell you.
Um hmmm.
lola rolls lazily from the bean bag, picks up her soda and walks over, checking out his high-tech chair.
Nice of me to have it brought up for you. Really nice. Of me. Nice. Me. Just remember that.
Um hmm.
lola tries some of the buttons and is delighted to see bubbles pour from the back. lola presses the clown-music button.
I like this...how's it go? Nuh nuh nuh-na nuh nuh nuh nuh nuh-na?
Sir takes her hands in his and switches the music and bubbles off.
More nuh's.
You're really not making use of all the options here. You've not even tried this panel over here.
Maybe.
Sir slaps her hand. lola goes to press—owww!
Don't touch my panels.
No fair! I bought it!
But…it's mine.
Grrr. Fine, I'll come play with it when you've gone.
lola shrugs and eyes all the buttons, eagerly. lola wonders what the big green one does. Sir takes her by the hips and sets her on his lap.
Press the green one. Press the green one. Press the green one.
lola wriggles impatiently and checks out the panel more closely.
And then that gray one with the double X on it.
Sir presses the blue one, bringing a protective screen over all the panels and locking the control down.
You have to earn the green one.
lola scowls and leans back, crossing her arms.
You're no fun. I should have just gotten you a lawn chair.
…and the XX is not for girlies.
Why not? What's the XX do? What's the XX do? What's the XX do? What's the XX do?
lola bounces, chanting.
Maybe one day I'll tell you…
What's the XX do? What's the XX do? What's the XX do?
When your ready…
What's the XX do? What's the XX do? What's the XX do? What's the XX do? What's the XX do? What's the XX do? What's the XX do? What's the XX do? What's the XX do? What's the XX do? What's the XX do?
It's the auto spank feature.
Mm, never mind then.
I fix you in and it just keeps going.
You play with that one yourself. You'll love it.
Sir grins.

Part of the relationship exists at this comfortable level. In and out of everyday, a sense of pervasive familiarity has really helped me to trust him, his motives. I question his motives often, occasionally out loud: Why are you here? Why are you doing this for me? What's in it for you?

His answer: I'm here. That's all you need to know.

It hasn't always been enough and I have pushed for more. I have been persistently wary and guarded, demanding specific explanations and revisiting the topic endlessly. But I suppose, in the end, it really is all I need to know.