Prompt: Hidden Injury


Burton was disappointed when he saw his mother was still in the kitchen when he came down for more pineapple.

"You do realize food costs money, right?" his mother huffed as he loaded his plate with the last of the fruit.

"He needs to eat," Burton argued, putting the container in the sink.

His mother narrowed her eyes at him and pointed with the dish rag she was using to clean the counter. "If he's going to be under our roof, and eating our food, then I expect him to pull his weight around here."

Burton eyed up the rag that was being brandished at him like a weapon before rolling his eyes and walking back out of the room. He knew his mother wasn't wrong, but he certainly wasn't going to tell her that.

His sl- Morgan was still sitting in the corner, looking much more relaxed when he came back into the room. "I got you more pineapple. I didn't know how hungry you were, so I didn't get anything else for now."

Morgan smiled slightly as he said, "Thank you, s-"

The collar beeped angrily and Morgan jolted, his jaw clenching closed. He took a quick breath once it was done and his eyes held a glimmer of betrayal when he glanced towards Burton's feet.

Burton held up his free hand to show he didn't have the remote. "It wasn't me, I swear."

Morgan's eyebrows went down, and Burton thought over the rules he'd read while he slowly handed the plate over. "Did one of your previous owners order you to say thank you?"

"I was given permission to say it," Morgan said as his expression cleared.

"...Sorry." It seemed inadequate, but what was Burton supposed to say to someone who'd been forced to say certain things -probably painfully- and the only concession given to him was permission to not be shocked for it.

Morgan gave a small nod of acknowledgement and leaned forward to take the plate. And Burton saw streaks of red liquid dripping down the wall behind him; he just barely made it to the bathroom before puking.

He flushed and took several deep breaths as fresh water ran through the toilet bowl under him. His slave was bleeding. His slave was bleeding, and he hadn't noticed. His slave was bleeding, and hadn't said anything, and he hadn't noticed. He whined and clutched the cool porcelain tighter; he couldn't handle a bleeding slave! He could do a lot of things, dealing with blood wasn't one of them.

The vendor's sneering face swum in his memory, and Burton groaned as he laid his head on his hands. Morgan was his responsibility. If he couldn't handle even the first night, his father would totally make him take Morgan back. Or at least resell him to make up for some of the cost. He couldn't let that happen.

Burton stood up on shaky legs and went over to the sink to rinse his mouth out. He needed to prove he could be a good owner, and that meant taking care of his slave. Even when his slave was bleeding.

He let out a small whine and glanced at the mirror before bending over to dig under the sink for the first-aid kit. He was so not ready for this. He found what he was looking for and turned to leave the bathroom before grabbing a towel at the last second. He didn't need blood over his blankets as well as his slave.

When he came back, he saw Morgan on his knees, scrubbing frantically at the mess on the wall with the front of his shirt. Morgan's head turned at the sound of the door closing, and he immediately dropped his hands and looked at the floor, cringing away as he stayed on his knees.

Burton swallowed thickly; his mind was too busy babbling about not puking again to be able to even attempt to unpack Morgan's behavior. He looked away as he put his supplies on the bed and stated, "You're hurt."

He saw Morgan's reluctant nod out of the corner of his eye.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I'm sorry, sir. You said you didn't like blood," Morgan answered faintly.

Burton narrowed his eyes; that really wasn't an answer. Had Morgan been hoping he'd be able to hide it until he healed on his own? It didn't seem like a very well thought out plan… Surely he didn't think Burton was that hopeless at noticing things.

Though, he hadn't noticed until now… Oh god, was he actually that hopeless?

Burton shook the spiraling thoughts away and prepared to ask another question before taking in how Morgan was acting. He wasn't just cringing away, like he'd done something wrong; he was cringing away and holding himself completely still while barely breathing, as though he was hoping to disappear before being beaten to a pulp. Or worse.

Sure, Burton had puked, but that wasn't Morgan's fault, and he'd made it clear that he didn't want to hurt him. So, why was Morgan suddenly acting like he had at the pier?

Burton turned back around to watch carefully as he asked, "What's wrong?"

Morgan seemed surprised by the question, but he stayed tense as he answered, "I made you sick, sir."

"No, that's not it," Burton said as he thought hard. Morgan somehow managed to still even further, confirming Burton's suspicion. He was missing something. He hated it when he was missing something. The puzzle made it easier to ignore the rusty tang in the air, and Burton retraced their conversation before remembering the rules in the manual. "You're supposed to tell the truth… but you said only your mouth was hurt. You lied."

Morgan's nod was barely perceptible.

"The collar should have gone off," Burton continued to think out loud. His eyebrows rose and he asked curiously, "Why didn't it go off?"

"I was taught- I learned how to beat a polygraph test, sir," Morgan answered, his voice shaking. "When I was a kid."

Burton's eyebrows rose even further at the answer. Why would a slave be taught how to do that? It didn't seem like something anyone would want their slave to be able to do. Morgan continued to cringe away, clearly expecting a punishment.

It was probably what Burton was supposed to do. His slave had broken one of his core rules; he needed disciplined so he wouldn't do it again. But Burton wasn't angry at him for managing to find a way around the collar's restrictions. It was actually pretty cool.

He studied his strange slave and simply reminded him, "You don't have to do the 'sir' thing, remember?"

Morgan twitched at the question, seeming to unclench slightly against his will, but didn't move from his position as he answered, "Yes, sir."

Burton sighed, but he understood. It was a conditioned response, and Morgan was still clearly afraid of being hurt. And he was already hurt. Burton thought about the blood and let out a sigh; he wished Joy was home. She would have been able to help him with this. "How bad are you hurt?"

The line between Morgan's eyebrows returned and his breathing became more regular as he answered, "My back is bleeding a little…"

Burton could hear the 'sir' that he had to fight to suppress. He could also hear the careful wording of the answer. He watched Morgan closely as he asked, "Are you hurt anywhere else?"

Morgan sighed and answered promptly, "My legs are stung up a bit too."

Burton glanced down at the sweatpants covering Morgan's legs. What did 'stung up' mean? Whatever it was, it probably needed to be taken care of too. But first, the bleeding. "Uh, ok. I'm not going to hurt you. I'm just going to patch you up, ok?"

"...Ok."

Burton spread out the towel on the bed and stared at it as he tried to find the right words to use. He finally gave up and admitted, "Sorry, I have no idea how to say this without it being an order."

Morgan's head tilted slightly with a slightly confused expression.

"I need you to take off your shirt and let me see what's hurt."

The expression left Morgan's face, leaving it blank as he stood up and pulled his shirt off. It took a few extra seconds as he worked the collar of the shirt over the metal collar around his neck, and Burton almost stepped forward to help when Morgan winced as he brought his hands up and over his head.

Burton froze as the shirt pulled away, and he looked over Morgan's exposed body in dismay. Sure, he knew a slave's life wasn't easy, but seeing it written out in the white scars and the bruises that littered Morgan's torso made it so much more real. The gray and yellow hues coloring his skin spoke of constant, casual abuse, and the scars ranged from small, raised welts to a thick white line running down the center of his chest.

Burton traced the last one with his eyes; he knew what it was. And he knew what it meant.

No one would pay for a slave to have open-heart surgery.

Morgan hadn't always been a slave.

Morgan stood still under his inspection, glancing at the towel on the bed a few times before Burton shook himself and prompted, "Lay down on the towel so I can see your back."

He felt like a jerk when the collar light blinked green, but Morgan didn't seem to notice as he dropped his shirt to the ground and did as he was ordered. Once he could see Morgan's back, Burton had to quickly look away and suppress several gags before he could look again.

Dark raised welts surrounded by bruises stretched across Morgan's shoulders and back, crisscrossing in several places and bleeding in several more. The lines looked too thick to be done by a whip, and it took Burton's brain a few extra seconds to come up with another answer. It looked like he'd been beaten with a cane.

Burton took a fortifying breath and forced himself to look closer. He was going to need to treat the wounds; he couldn't be puking every few seconds.

It looked even more painful once he was able to focus on the individual injuries. The welts themselves were angry red and inflamed, and nearly every one ended in a bleeding gouge that was surrounded by dark bruising. It was insane that Morgan had been able to sit against the wall without crying; had the freedom to relax really been worth the pain?

He swallowed hard and asked the only thing he could think of. "What the hell did you do to get this?"

"I told my seller's wife he was cheating on her and who he was with," Morgan answered promptly.

"Huh." Burton eyed up the results of that reveal. "That seems like it was a bit short sighted."

Morgan huffed.

"Why'd you do it?" Burton couldn't help but ask. He knew he was stalling again, but he also wanted to know.

"I… needed to, I guess," Morgan said hesitantly, like he wasn't used to his reasons mattering.

Burton nodded his head to the side in acknowledgement as he opened up the first-aid kit. He appreciated the answer, even if it wasn't as clear as he'd hoped. He found an alcohol wipe before wincing and looking back at Morgan's broken skin. "Uh, this is probably going to suck. But I need to clean those before I bandage them."

Morgan didn't move or say anything, and Burton sighed before reaching out and running the wipe over a gouge right next to Morgan's neck. Morgan flinched before tightening his muscles and stilling, his jaw tense as he kept himself quiet. Burton cleaned the wound as fast as he could before putting on some antibacterial cream and a bandage. He sighed as he looked across Morgan's back; one down, so many more to go.

At the third gouge, Burton suddenly understood the pattern. "His cane had something on the end, didn't it?"

"Yeah, some kind of bird thing," Morgan answered before hissing as Burton dabbed at a particularly deep spot. "Like an eagle or an ocelot or something."

"You mean osprey?" Burton asked as he started applying the cream.

"I've heard it both ways."

Burton froze; his slave had just told a joke. Maybe not the best joke, and definitely not at the best time… But it had been a joke.

Burton returned to his task with a smile on his face.

Before he saw the blood on his fingers and dry heaved. God, he hated blood.

Morgan huffed an almost-silent laugh at his plight, which just seemed rude. Burton groaned and went back to work.

He was mentally spent by the time he finished spreading the last of the anti-inflammatory cream over the welts, and he sat back to eye up his work. Morgan's back had been transformed into a bandage and cream-covered mess, which was so much better than the bloody and bruised mess it had been before. Burton glanced at the dirty shirt on the ground before going over to his closet and digging through it. He found what he was looking for and told Morgan, "You can sit up."

The collar blinked yellow and Morgan sat up slowly. Burton held out the shirt he'd found. "Here. You can… It's soft and can be buttoned up. And it's clean. It shouldn't hurt your back too much."

His careful wording was rewarded by the collar not blinking, and a look of surprise flitted across Morgan's face. He reached out tentatively to take the cotton pajama shirt, and Burton couldn't decide if it was impressive or sad that he didn't show any signs of pain when he pulled the shirt on and buttoned it up.

"Is it ok if I check your legs now?"

Morgan glanced at him, his eyes going as far as Burton's chest before stopping. "You do know you don't have to ask me that kind of thing, right?"

Burton snorted; he had to be the only master in the world who was hopeless enough that even his slave thought he needed pointers. "I know I can order you; this way seemed politer."

Morgan's head cocked to the side at the answer before he slowly lifted one of his feet and rolled up his sweat pants without prompting. Once both legs were bare from the knee down, he rolled back over.

Burton had a hard time appreciating the gesture when he saw the red, inflamed rash lines running across the back of both of Morgan's calves. He mentally replayed what Morgan had said and sighed, "Stings… Jellyfish stings?!"

"Yes, s-... yes."

His slave was going to be the death of him. "How did you get stung by a jellyfish?!"

"Someone found it this morning and got curious," Morgan answered, sounding like he was describing the weather. He paused before adding, "Fun fact, peeing on it doesn't help."

"Got curious…" Burton groaned at the mental picture the words painted of someone running the stinging tentacles along Morgan's legs just to see what would happen. He wasn't even going to touch Morgan's second statement. "Does it still sting?"

"Not much, it itches more than anything."

Burton chewed his lip and reviewed what little he could remember about jellyfish stings. He didn't go to the beach much, but his parents had still piled on lecture after lecture of being safe anytime he went out on his own. He never thought he'd be grateful for those lectures.

"Ok. If it's not stinging anymore then we probably don't need to rinse it with vinegar." And if that meant he didn't have to go back into the kitchen… So much the better. "I think there's some antihistamine cream in here that'll take care of the itching." Morgan's eyebrows went down in confusion and Burton clarified, "Allergy cream."

Morgan didn't react, other than his eyebrows going back up, and Burton took it as a sign that he could start treating the rash. As soon as he started spreading the cream on the warm welts, Morgan let out a small sigh of relief, so quiet Burton almost thought he'd imagined it. The slight loosening of Morgan's shoulders confirmed that the medicine was working, and Burton felt a strange feeling of pride as he wrapped light bandages around both legs. He'd done that. He'd helped.

"All done. Let me know if it starts hurting worse; it could get infected." The collar blinked red and Burton blinked back at it before letting out a surprised, "Huh."

It was good to know that there were some orders the collar couldn't enforce.

Morgan glanced at him curiously as he sat back up. He seemed to debate with himself for a moment, his eyebrows drawing together as his fingers fidgeted with the side of his pants, before finally setting his jaw in determination. He glanced over and raised his hand, like a kid asking a question at school.

Burton stared at him for a second before remembering Morgan needed to be asked a question so he could talk without being shocked. "What?"

"Why did you buy me?" Morgan asked immediately, tensing slightly, but not looking away from Burton's chest.

Burton's mind went blank at the unexpected question. Why had he bought Morgan?

He wanted to say that he'd seen how Morgan was being hurt and he'd wanted to rescue him, like a knight in shining armor. But he knew better than that; he'd walked right past another slave being whipped for entertainment and hadn't even given him a second thought. Besides walking faster so he could get away from the blood.

Which was really messed up, now that he thought about it.

He shook his head quickly; he could freak out about being a terrible person later. For now, Morgan deserved an answer.

"I… don't know," Burton said truthfully. He sighed and tried to explain what he could. "Have you ever just looked at someone, and even though you've never seen them before, you feel like you know them?"

"Not usually…" Morgan answered, not looking away.

"I didn't want us to get a slave, I thought it was dumb. No offense. Then I saw you and… I wanted to do something. You made me want to do something." Burton looked down at his hands and shrugged. "Sorry if that doesn't answer your question."

There was a long moment of silence after his explanation and he suddenly realized he was waiting for Morgan to say something. He cleared his throat and asked, "Uh… do you have any other questions?"

Morgan hesitated before seeming to change his mind at the last second. "Do you want me to take care of the mess on the wall?"

"Oh my god, yes please." Burton had been doing his best to avoid looking at the red streaks in the corner.

A small smirk crossed Morgan's face, and he grabbed the towel before kneeling to wipe the blood off of the wall. Burton dug through the much emptier first-aid kit and found some wet wipe packets. He tossed them over without thinking, and Morgan flinched before he saw what the projectiles were.

"Sorry," Burton said as he looked everywhere in the room except for the corner.

Morgan didn't answer -because he couldn't, Burton realized- and quickly finished his job. He stood with the towel in his hand and hesitated, his eyes flicking around the room.

"Oh," Burton realized. "Hold on…" He dug through his closet again before coming up with the bottom half of the pajamas Morgan was wearing. "You can put that and your clothes into the laundry, it's the door right next to the bathroom, and you can… do whatever you need to in the bathroom and put these on."

Morgan nodded and took the offered pants before picking up his shirt. Burton noticed his lack of shoes as he walked out into the hallway. Why hadn't he noticed that earlier? His parent's safety lectures always included how parking lots were filled with dirty needles and broken glass and how he should never walk off of the beach barefoot. And Morgan had walked all of the way to the car barefoot and he hadn't even noticed.

Burton slumped even further into his chair; he'd also just given Morgan his first chore. Sure, it wasn't a bad chore, and Morgan had practically offered, but he was still doing the master thing. He was still just sitting there while Morgan was doing things for him. And his mother wanted Morgan to do even more of the slave things… and he'd agreed with what she'd said.

It made sense, but it felt wrong.

Morgan walked back in and Burton was glad to see that at least he had gotten one thing right; they definitely wore the same size clothes. The pants and shirt were slightly baggy around Morgan's body and hips, where he was thinner, but otherwise they looked like they were made for him.

Morgan walked over to the corner and started to kneel before stopping himself with only one knee on the ground. He glanced at Burton before reaching out and picking up the plate with the pineapple and standing back up again. He sat on the edge of the bed and waited, seeming to expect Burton to tell him to get back on the ground again.

Burton nodded towards the plate, relieved that at least this part made sense and felt right. "Your pineapple's getting cold."

Morgan huffed a slight laugh before grabbing the fork and eating one of the chunks. Burton smiled with him, even though he knew the next conversation probably wasn't going to be fun. "So, I didn't want a slave… but Mom and Dad did." Morgan chewed slower as he listened. "Mom says you're going to have to 'earn your keep' and stuff. Um, so… was the vendor telling the truth?"

He was pretty sure the vendor had been full of crap, but he probably needed to know if Morgan really was 'useless' and 'untrainable' before his Mom started trying to order him around.

Morgan's lips twisted at the question, but he still answered without any collar prompts. "I know how to do stuff."

Burton narrowed his eyes; his slave seemed to be very good at carefully wording his answers to not actually say anything. "That doesn't answer my question at all."

Morgan put down his fork and seemed almost curious at what Burton was going to do about it.

It was time for the direct approach. Burton asked quickly, "Do you know how to do housework?"

"Yes," Morgan answered, just as fast.

"Will you do housework?"

"Yes."

"Can you follow orders?"

"Yes."

"Why did he say you were useless?"

"Because I get distracted." Morgan blinked, seeming surprised at the answer he'd given. He quickly followed it with, "And because he was a jerk."

He flinched as soon as the words had left his mouth, but Burton just snorted and said, "I think that's an understatement."

Morgan relaxed with a small smile and took another bite of food.

Burton watched him for a second before sighing, "So, if my Mom asks… orders you to clean the kitchen. Will you do it?"

Morgan froze with another chunk of pineapple halfway to his mouth. He looked at it like it had gone sour as he answered in a monotone. "I can do what I'm told, sir."

Burton frowned at the answer. It told him what he needed to know, but there wasn't any reason for it to have caused that sort of reaction. He tried to piece the puzzle together as an uneasy expression crossed Morgan's face before he started eating again. Morgan had clearly had issues with past owners, Burton had been trying to be better than them, but he still needed Morgan to follow orders sometimes… He sighed when he understood.

"You know, I'm not just being nice so you'll do what I want," he said, hoping the sincerity was clear in his voice. "You should be allowed to eat without having to worry about your collar, and you shouldn't have to worry about being hit because your blood got on something, and you shouldn't be bleeding like that in the first place." Morgan snorted and Burton continued stubbornly, "Even if you said that you didn't know how to run a vacuum, or pick stuff up, or…" his mind went blank on things his parents would order Morgan to do. "... or you said Pluto shouldn't be a planet. I'd still be treating you the same."

The silence after was heavy as Morgan fidgeted with his fork and looked down at his plate. Burton realized what he forgot about a minute later and grumbled quietly, "Damnit."

Instead of asking a question, he turned to his computer and pulled the manual back up. Morgan's previous owner had been able to allow him to say 'Thank you' after being given something, so there had to be a way to lift more of the speaking restrictions. He clicked on a page with the table for common 'perpetual orders'.

[Perpetual orders will stay into effect until the owner rescinds them. A full list of recognized orders can be found on our website, the most common ones are below.

– The Polite Order will ensure your slave will always address others in the appropriate manner and will be allowed to show its gratitude. To activate this, use the command, "You will be polite and respectful."

— The Vocal Confirmation Order will ensure your slave will verbally acknowledge orders given to it. To activate this, use the command, "You will acknowledge all orders."

– The Vocal Discipline Order will allow you to set parameters on when you wish your slave to speak during disciplinary actions. For Discipline Mode-specific orders, please see page 26 for calibrations. To activate…]

Burton skimmed further down, not wanting to know the specifics about discipline or pleasure modes. He finally found what he was looking for in a small note buried at the bottom of the page.

[We pride ourselves on full customizability of your purchase, therefor the Unmuzzle Order is available for owners who wish their slave to have no restrictions on when it can speak. Please note, experts oppose this configuration and it is known to cause difficulties for all but the most experienced of owners.]

Burton felt a humorless smirk stretch across his face as he re-read the warning before looking at Morgan and stating clearly, "I permit unrestricted speech."

The yellow light seemed almost judgemental when it stayed on for a full three seconds before blinking off. Morgan glanced over, his eyebrows furrowed, but he didn't say anything.

"That should make it where you can talk even without someone asking you a question," Burton explained. He rubbed the back of his neck as he realized, "Uh… but there isn't really any safe way to test it…"

Morgan chewed his lip as he thought before putting his plate down next to him. He took a deep breath and quickly said, "The plaque for the alternates is down in the ladies room."

He froze then perked up when the collar didn't activate. Burton just stared before finally asking, "You could have said anything… and you quoted Top Gun? And not even THE quote?!"

Morgan smiled and gingerly shrugged. "I like Kilmer."

Burton stared some more in surprise; Morgan had shared something about himself. And Val Kilmer was pretty cool. "Have you seen his new Batman movie yet?"

Morgan's smile disappeared as he answered, "My last owner wasn't really a movie guy."

Burton glanced at his laptop and aimed for a casual tone as he said, "Maybe we can rent it."

Morgan looked at him like he'd just suggested they try out for American Duos. "Why?"

"You want to see it, I want to see it, why not?" Burton asked back.

Morgan continued to stare, his eyes creeping up as he apparently tried to understand his strange owner. A warning beep on the collar prompted him to answer. "Dunno… You know most people don't want to be friends with their slave, right?"

"I'm not most people," Burton said with a shrug before rethinking his statement. Morgan shouldn't have to worry about pretending to be friendly with his owner just to make him happy. "Besides, I know we probably can't be friends. What with the whole 'slave and master' thing, but that doesn't mean I have to be a jerk, you know?"

"Yeah…" Morgan grew quiet and absently grabbed another piece of pineapple as he studied Burton, like he could take him apart and see what made him tick. Burton squirmed in his chair at the scrutiny and looked away. It wasn't normal for a gaze to make him feel like he was being x-rayed, was it?

"Shawn."

The name caught him off guard and Burton looked back, jolting when he realized Morgan's eyes were just barely avoiding his. "Who's Shawn?"

"That's my… That's what I want to be called." He was sitting tight, watching Burton carefully as his hand clenched the bed spread under him.

Burton let out a breath. He knew the trust he was being given; he could just dismiss his slave's name, he could take it and twist it into something ugly, he could take it away as easily as he breathed. He spoke in a deliberately light tone as he said, "My name's Burton. Nice to meet you, Shawn."

The smile that spread across Shawn's face was brighter than all of the others added together. It only took a second for it to shift into something slightly more challenging as he said, "There's just one problem…"

"What's that?" Burton asked, intrigued at this new side of his slave.

"You don't look like a 'Burton'," Shawn stated. "Burton seems like someone who'd look at the sky and complain that it's blue and he'd like to talk to your manager now."

Burton snorted. He recognized the gleam in Shawn's eyes; he was totally being tested. Shawn also wasn't wrong; he'd managed to describe Burton's Uncle Burton to a T.

He thought about cutting off the conversation, but a part of him -a large part- wanted to see what would happen if he played along. "Well it's my name…"

Shawn's smile grew at not being immediately shot down. "Your mom called you Burton Gahlen Guster, right?"

"I'm not going by Gahlen," Burton automatically argued. His name was a family thing, which was sometimes annoying, but it was still better than being called 'gay'lan all of the time.

"Yeah, that doesn't match." Shawn agreed. His eyes shifted just slightly and he was suddenly looking Burton in the eye. "What about 'Gus'?"

Burton's eyebrows rose and he gave it real thought, turning it in his mind and inspecting it from all angles. He mouthed the name and tried it experimentally in a few sentences, feeling how it would roll off of his tongue. It felt right.

Gus looked back up and met Shawn's eyes as he smiled. "I like it. I like it a lot."


This is the story I had planned for the Whumptober prompts, so I'm marking it complete for now. But I have several ideas to turn it into a longfic later. I'm going to work on outlining and planning during the holiday season, so there's a good chance it'll get uncompleted and expanded on sometime early next year.

Fun Fact: Southern California does get some jellyfish, but most of them are harmless. Some don't even have stingers! There is one moderately dangerous one called the Black Stinging Nettle that shows up from time to time, but it's probably too big (30 feet long) for someone to play with like this, not to mention they weren't recognized as a species until 1997, 2 years after this scene is set. I used them as my reference anyways, because people can be determined when they decide to be bullies.