A/N: Thank you so much Bees_n_Sunshine for my first ever fan-art! Who knew a coffee pot could be so cute? (She said the line "The coffee gurgled happily" description made her do it .) (imgur a/0t0ympR)

"How do we sign up?"

Shawn's relief at the words was almost palpable. If it wouldn't make Gus unhappy, he would have dropped to his knees right then and there in gratitude. He was going to be useful again, and he'd be able to keep Abigail safe.

He'd tried being good, being what Gus wanted, but it hadn't been working. Abigail being put in the program had just made the choice easy.

Gus and the RA continued to talk as he filled out the forms, discussing hours, expectations, and days off. Because of course Gus would ask about days off for a slave. By this point, It would be weirder if he wasn't weird.

But Shawn didn't want days off. He didn't want to fight the loud thoughts that told him he had no value. He didn't want to stare at the lessons his dad had already taught him when he was free. He didn't want all of the reminders that he was just a broken tool trying to be something he wasn't. Life would be better now that he could do what he was supposed to do.

It would make life easier for Gus too. He wouldn't have to worry about money, he wouldn't have to worry about Shawn being on his own, he wouldn't have to worry about what new things to try when he was at class. Shawn would be able to be a good friend instead of constantly fighting between his slave thoughts and his… other thoughts. Things would make sense again.

Crystal put a paper on a clipboard and recited, "Your slave's collar will be on our staff's network and he'll be required to listen to the staff's orders during his time of service. Discipline will be used if those orders aren't carried out in a satisfactory manner. If any problems persist, you'll be given a warning before the contract is terminated and you're fined for any remaining time. If you agree to these conditions, sign here." She held the clipboard out and her eye flicked up to Shawn before she added, "Last chance."

Gus took the offered contract and turned to look at Shawn as well. "You're sure?"

Two free people were asking his opinion, even if Crystal was now studying her black nails in a bored manner. The pressure clenched down on Shawn's throat, keeping the words at bay. He wasn't supposed to make choices. He was supposed to do what his master wanted.

His collar beeped and he remembered Abigail's arms tight around her body. "Y-Yes. I'm sure." He was agreeing to do a slave thing. What was wrong with him? "Sir."

The pen in Gus' hand stayed frozen over the page, and Shawn held his breath as he watched it. It was Gus' choice now. Gus let out a shaky sigh and the pen moved, signing his name on the line.

An unpleasant feeling lurched in Shawn's stomach even as warmth spread through his chest. He'd made a choice. It was the right choice.

It had to be.

It was Monday, and Gus wasn't handling it well. Shawn kept himself out of the way as Gus paced and checked his watch. They'd both silently agreed to not talk about the elephant in the room over the weekend, but now neither of them could put it off any longer. Shawn still waited for Gus to make the first move.

Which Gus finally did, five minutes before he had to leave for class. "I'm going to have to drop you off early; your shift doesn't start for another hour."

"I know." It would be fine, because he'd finally be doing what he was supposed to do.

"You know," Gus muttered to himself as his pacing took him next to the leash. He stopped and stared at it before spinning back around. "Was it really that bad?"

"It's n-not your fault." Gus had tried so hard. "I couldn't… That's not what I am."

Gus reached blindly behind him to grab the leash and hold it up. "This isn't what you are, either. Just because someone trained you to think otherwise doesn't mean it's true."

"I know you don't like it," Shawn said quietly as he watched his friend. He needed him to understand. "But I am a slave. You treating me differently doesn't change that."

Gus' hand dropped to his side as he visibly slumped. He checked his watch again. "Fine. And I'm still your master. I know I rescind orders a lot, but I need… I'm asking you to follow this one regardless. Don't cause trouble, and tell me if you get hurt."

The words settled over Shawn like a weighted vest, both grounding and constricting. He nodded and acknowledged the orders. "I will."

He wouldn't plan on causing trouble unless there was a good reason, and he'd tell Gus about any injuries that he couldn't hide. It was close enough to the truth.

"Ok…" Gus put on his backpack. "I guess it's time."

Shawn stayed still as the leash was attached and tried to find his slave-mode as they left the room. He was going to be useful, he wasn't going to make Gus worry, he wasn't going to have to think. A slave existed for its master, a slave made things easier, a slave did as it was told.

He remembered the night he'd made the mess, and how much easier it had been to talk as a slave instead of as a friend. He remembered how hard it had been to focus on the textbook when he'd kept remembering his dad and what he'd lost. He remembered the rush of relief when he'd let himself wipe down the floor and make Gus food. He needed this.

He knew where he belonged.

"We're here." Gus stopped in front of several hooks next to a door with the word 'Janitor' on it. His hand shook as he slid the leash off of his wrist, and Shawn didn't wait for an order as he knelt next to the slave who was already there. He could at least make it as easy as possible for Gus. The clip snapped closed above him and Gus stepped back. "I'll see you in a few hours… Stay."

It was what he'd wanted. It was what he'd chosen… but it wasn't triumph he felt when Gus walked away, but dread.

Shawn let out a long breath and settled into his spot. It didn't matter; it was the choice he'd had to make. There wasn't any going back now.

He hadn't been put away for almost three weeks. It wasn't enjoyable, but there was at least a sense of relief at not having a choice but to not move. He was where he was supposed to be; he was doing what he was supposed to be doing. He slowly ran his thumb over his knuckles as free people walked past him in a steady stream.

Chatting girls giggled together, a boy with a fedora loudly explained why anime wasn't the same as cartoons, and another boy weaved around the groups of people as he rushed to class. The boy side-stepped the giggle girls and overshot, stumbling into the other slave and hitting Shawn across the face with his backpack. The boy barely slowed down, just glancing back to see what he'd hit before jogging off without another word.

Shawn worked his jaw back and forth to shake off the hit. It hadn't been very hard; hopefully it wouldn't bruise. Gus would never forgive him if he got himself hurt this early in the contract.

The hallway continued to bustle with movement as time ticked on. Shawn and the other slave waited. An hour wasn't a long time, and he had orders to follow. It was easier to handle than the overwhelming lack of purpose, though it would be nice if he could talk to himself. He'd started doing that when he was alone to help relieve the pressure. It had been surprisingly enjoyable. But slaves weren't seen or heard. They existed to be useful and waited when they weren't. So Shawn waited.

Hundreds of people had passed them before another slave was brought over. Shawn heard a voice say, "Huh, didn't know he'd be here," before a female slave knelt next to him. A familiar female slave.

Abigail shifted quietly, getting comfortable on her knees and folding her hands in her lap. Rowan waited an extra second after she stopped moving before hooking her leash to the wall and patting her head. "Be good for the staff. Stay."

Shawn glanced over as Rowan walked off, trying to catch Abigail's eye. She continued to stare at the floor impassively, as though completely unaware he was there. Which was what she was supposed to do. It was fine.

She hadn't said anything that morning either, when he'd mentioned they'd be working together. They were just two slaves being ordered to clean things.

And he was going to make sure that was all she was ordered to do.

A couple more slaves were dropped off before a man with a ring of keys hanging from his belt approached them. He didn't give them a second glance as he walked past and unlocked the janitor door. Shawn kept his eyes on the floor and stilled his hands. A slave was calm, a slave didn't fidget, a slave did as it was told.

"Slaves, on your feet."

A girl laughed loudly down the hall, sneakers squeaked nearby, and a boy mumbled to himself as he walked past. The quiet rustle of cloth and clinks of leash clasps were the only sounds the group of slaves made as they climbed to their feet. Shawn let out a quiet breath and focused on being unnoticeable.

The janitor walked down the row, unclasping the leashes and clicking his remote. He returned to the room and called out, "Keep in your line, come get your supplies."

Shawn followed the orders along with the rest of the slaves. The male ahead of him was given a mop and Shawn had to suppress a sigh when he was handed several rags. He hated dusting. He just barely kept himself from asking for a better job as he stepped forward again. Dusting was better than being useless in the room…

"Well, well… Looks like we've got some new blood," the janitor said right behind Shawn. His voice dropped into an oily tone. "Some fancy new blood."

Shawn clenched his jaw and stayed in his place. He couldn't cause trouble just over some words that Abigail probably heard constantly. But it was proof that he'd made the right choice. Even if he itched to break formation to glare at the man.

The slave in front of him stopped and Shawn did too, listening intently to make sure Abigail had been allowed to keep up with the line. A minute later, the janitor walked past him and ordered, "Follow me."

The janitor led them to a large room on the first floor and pointed at the hallway outside. "Mop, go fill your bucket. Broom, get working." He pointed in the room. "Rags, Windows, Vacuum."

The male in front of Shawn ducked his head and took his bucket to a nearby door. Shawn led the way into the room, quickly taking in the study tables, the piano in the corner, and the comfortable couches lining the wall. Abigail walked past him with a spray bottle of window cleaner, and he walked towards the piano. It was a good enough place to start.

Pain jolted through his collar, stopping him in his tracks.

"Rags. Start here." The janitor pointed at several chairs lined up next to the door.

There wasn't any reason why starting there was better than the piano… Shawn ducked his head and did as he was told, walking over to the chairs and running the dust rags over them. The janitor leaned on the doorway, going back to watching Abigail as she washed the windows. Shawn chanced a glance in her direction and saw how she was having to bend over slightly to work around a radiator. It was easy to guess what part of her the janitor was ogling at.

"Don't cause trouble, and tell me if you get hurt."

Looks didn't hurt, and he'd made a promise to Gus. He had his orders; he couldn't cause trouble unless there wasn't any better option.

Electricity seared in his neck again, sharp enough to make him flinch.

"You're here to work, slave. Not stare off into space."

Shawn focused back on his hands and his own job. He had no excuse for letting his mind wander like that; he knew better. This was where he was supposed to be and what he was supposed to do. This was his place.

But why did everything still feel wrong?

Shawn's arms ached by the time the shift was done, and his neck stung from being kept on task. But at least nothing had happened with Abigail, and he was actually tired instead of crawling out of his skin with the need to do something.

He followed the line of slaves as they turned into the hallway and saw Gus already waiting for him. He was clearly trying to look nonchalant as he wrote in a notebook, but Shawn questioned how legible his writing would be. Gus was watching the slaves more than he was watching his pen.

Their eyes met, and Shawn felt himself unconsciously relaxing at the look. He was safe now.

The janitor opened the closet door and ordered, "Slaves, hand over your supplies and kneel in your spot."

Shawn dropped his eyes back to the ground so he wouldn't have to see Gus' face as he did as he was told. It wasn't like Gus didn't know what he'd been doing, but it was wrong following someone else's orders while he watched. The back of his collar vibrated as the janitor clipped the leash on, and Shawn had to keep his eyes down for an entirely different reason. Gus never used the ring on the back of his collar. It had only been used by masters who'd wanted complete control of where his head was.

But he wasn't there… This was just a choice he'd made.

"Slaves, stay." A quiet beep came from the janitor's direction before he walked off without a second of hesitation.

Shawn's body started to shake. The order should have grounded him, letting him know what he was supposed to do. He wouldn't even have to follow it for long. But instead it just pulled him even further into the memories he didn't want to relive.

The sharp pain of a needle piercing his ear, the cranking of gears as a chain pulled his collar up, the sweet juice of an apple shoved in his mouth…

"Shawn, stand up and follow me."

His master's voice pulled him back to the present, and he gratefully followed the order as the sound of a zipper faded back to the past. He had a good master now; he was safe. He wasn't there.

Gus left his usual amount of slack in the leash, but the quiet sound of the clasp on the back of the collar kept Shawn on edge. It was wrong, and bad, and Gus didn't do that. It wasn't until they were in the room and Gus took off the leash that he felt like he could actually take a full breath.

"You can move and you can talk." Gus grabbed the green water bottle and held it out without orders. Shawn tried to keep his hand from shaking as he took it, but the deepening worry lines on Gus' face told him he hadn't succeeded. "Are you ok?"

"Yes, s-" Shawn cut himself off with a grimace. He'd had to fight to stay in slave-mode while he worked, so of course he'd have to fight getting back into friend-mode now. He took a large drink from the bottle, noticing the clinking ice and refreshing chill of the water. Gus was too nice for him.

"Are you hurt?"

The order from earlier rose through Shawn's memories. Gus hadn't rescinded it yet. "No, I'm not hurt."

"Were you hurt when you were working?" Gus asked suspiciously.

The collar hurt him, not the man. He could tell the part-truth and keep Gus happy… but Gus trusted him. Shawn would need that trust if he ever had to lie further down the road. The collar beeped, and he admitted, "Nothing big. He used the collar a few times."

Gus' carefully crafted control snapped. "Damnit. This is why I didn't want you to do this!"

"It wasn't bad shocks," Shawn said as his heart pounded at the tone. "He was just using them to get my attention."

"Thank you." Sarcasm dripped from Gus' words like acid. "Because that makes it better."

Shawn's neck stung as he fought memories of other angry masters. He had to play damage control. "At least you weren't worried about me freaking out. And you can actually sit now instead of worrying about taking me for a walk."

Gus glared and snapped back, "No. You do not get to make this about me. It was your choice, so own up to it."

Shawn flinched as his mind scrambled to rectify the fact that slaves didn't own anything, but it had been his choice. A loud groan made him wince further, but his master just turned around and walked away.

There wasn't far to go in the small room, and Gus stopped at the window as he took several deep breaths. Shawn silently copied him and waited for his judgment.

Gus finally sighed and asked, "Did it at least help you with your stuff?"

Even when he was braced for Gus to surprise him, it still caught Shawn off-guard. Did it help? He wasn't frantic and he'd been useful. But he'd also had to fight to stay in slave-mode and Gus was still unhappy. And he still didn't know where his place was.

"I knew what to do," Shawn said carefully, "and I don't have too much energy now."

The answer seemed to frustrate Gus, but he was still calm when he asked, "You were starting to freak out when I got you. Were you fighting that the whole time?"

How many other masters would have noticed? "No. I never had to work with other slaves before. No memories to fight."

"So what got you?"

"The leash," Shawn admitted honestly. Gus deserved at least one straight answer. "You don't use the back."

"...And other masters did. I'll add it to the list…" Gus collapsed into his chair with a huff and Shawn tried to process his words. Gus had a list? For things that would freak him out? It was both comforting and disturbing. Gus tossed his homework onto his desk and said, "I finished most of my assignments before you came back. We can go exploring in an hour or so if you're up for it."

"But… You don't have to." Shawn snapped his mouth closed, but the words had already escaped. He rushed to fix his mistake. "Sorry, sir. I didn't mean that you had to do anything for me."

Just because Gus was his friend didn't mean he wasn't his master too.

Gus stared at him exhaustedly before shaking his head. "I like knowing the area. If you're too tired, we'll do something else. I just have to read one more chapter and take some notes first."

Shawn nodded as he continued to stand in the middle of the room. Why couldn't there be a manual for when he was supposed to do slave things and when he wasn't? The forces on him told him to go to his corner, but history told him to sit on the bed, and both felt wrong when he'd made things so hard for Gus. The program was supposed to have made that better.

"Sit, you deserve a break." Gus didn't look up from his book as he took away the uncertainty. "And I rescind all orders."

The bed was soft and inviting as he sat down. The water bottle was hard and cold against his hands. He stayed caught between the sensations as he waited for Gus to need him again.

He'd made the right choice.

Shawn kept repeating the words to himself like a mantra as he showered the next morning. Even though he was already dreading another four hours of being on edge and waiting for his collar to go off. Even though Gus had been stressed for their whole walk. Even though it hadn't made things easier like he'd thought… He'd made the right choice.

He had to have made the right choice. He didn't get enough choices to make a bad one.

His arm stung as he scrubbed the washcloth over it harder than necessary. He'd been fine doing chores for Mrs. Guster. He'd had times in his past when he would have given anything to do chores again. Times when he'd been in the kennel for days, or chained outside, or kneeling without sight… Shawn shook his head and sent water flying around the shower. He was a slave, and slaves existed to be useful.

It checked all of the right boxes, and it was only for a few hours. It should have been perfect for him to 'acclimate' as Gus had said. Just enough slave things to make it easier to do the things Gus wanted him to do. But instead he'd had to fight his slave thoughts throughout the rest of the day.

And he hadn't even felt fulfilled when he was doing the chores…

Shawn growled and grasped for the shower knob, turning it harshly and swallowing his yelp when the water became ice cold. He gritted his teeth and forced himself to stay under the spray. He'd gotten too used to how Gus did things. Just because he could be himself didn't mean he could forget what he was.

Slaves were useful; he'd found a way to be useful. He'd made the right choice.

He was shivering by the time he turned the water off. He embraced the feeling of the uncontrollable tremors as he stood still and breathed in the damp air. It was simple. He was cold, and the clothes his master let him wear would make him warmer. His master was nice. A slave's life was supposed to be that simple.

His life was anything but simple…

Shawn shook his head and grabbed his towel. That was another thing the work didn't fix; he was still having all of these annoying thoughts.

The bathroom door opened and closed as he put the clothes on, and he listened to the familiar set of footsteps. Abigail sometimes waited for him when she arrived before he was done. But did he want to talk to her? Would she think differently of him after seeing how often he'd needed to be corrected?

The footsteps stopped and waited. He let out a quiet breath and tried to clear his mind as he packed everything up. It was just like every other day. Just two slaves saying hi before the free people were awake.

"Good morning, Abigail," Shawn said as he pulled open the curtain. Abigail's lips twitched up like they always did at the sound of her name, but the expression didn't meet her eyes. He changed the question he was going to ask. "What's wrong?"

"Why do you talk to me?" she asked without any delay.

Why wouldn't he talk to her? "My master lets me talk and I haven't had the chance to talk to many other slaves before. Why do you ask?"

"Because you were watching me all yesterday too."

Gus' voice whispered in his memories, "Slaves see more than we think."

Abigail looked at him warily. "What do you want?"

"I don't want anything," Shawn answered without thinking. And now he was even starting to sound like Gus. He shook away the distracting thought and told a half-truth. "Like I said, it was my first time working with other slaves. I didn't mean to make you feel…" scared, guarded, watched… He needed to change the subject. "Am I not supposed to look at you?"

"You weren't looking at any of the other slaves…" Her shoulders loosened even as she continued to study him.

"None of the other slaves were looking at me, either," Shawn pointed out with a small smirk. Two could play at that game. "So why were you watching me?"

"I watch everything." Her lips ticked up into a small smile. This time it did meet her eyes. "Especially strange slaves who talk to me every morning."

"Well then. I guess we just have to keep watching each other."

She snorted a small laugh at his expense before signing goodbye. He matched the sign and watched her until the curtain closed. She deserved to be protected.

He'd made the right choice.

A/N: I've decided to just embrace it. Shawn's thinking spot is the shower, and it's totally not based on my personal thinking spot at all.