A/N: We're into the longfic now! Some housekeeping: The rating has been changed to M for the world being craptastic. There will be some violence and mentions of noncon. There will also be regular flashbacks of Shawn's time as a slave, so apply those warnings to a teenager. Electrocution will show up constantly, otherwise keep an eye out for specific chapter warnings in the A/Ns.
This is basically a slice of life fic, it will be long, and will span across several in-story years. Updates will be weekly, though if I'm chewing through my (very large) buffer, I will take a small break after the end of a story arc to build it back up. This first arc, I like to affectionately call the platonic slow burn.
Hope you enjoy!
A/N: Chapter CWs Sensory deprivation and panic.
Shawn's new master was strange.
Shawn was looking him in the eye, had just given him a name, had pushed his boundaries as far as he could… And his master was smiling at him.
Adrenaline rushed through him, making him feel alive. It was dangerous; it was reckless... But that's what happened when he listened to his small voice. The small voice that made sure he stayed himself, even when it would be smarter to not be himself.
A loud voice yelled up the stairs, breaking the moment. "Burton, dinner! And don't you dare think you can get away with staying up there!"
Shawn watched in interest as Gus' smile fell and he slouched in his chair. Most masters would restrain him if they were leaving, but Gus wasn't reaching for the remote or telling him to get back on his knees. Maybe he didn't even know it was what he was supposed to do.
Shawn wasn't going to be the one to tell him if that was the case.
Gus sighed and stood up. "Mom won't let you eat with us, sorry… I'll bring back some bread and anything else that might be easy to grab if you're still hungry."
That was another weird thing. masters never apologized. At least, not sincerely.
"Thank you," Shawn answered, almost lightheaded at the idea of even more food.
Gus nodded and walked out of the door, and Shawn realized what he'd actually been feeling. It hadn't just been the rush of defiance, of proving he was still him. It hadn't just been relief at not immediately being hurt. It had been hope.
Hope was dangerous.
He couldn't let himself fall into that trap again. Gus seemed like he was being nice now, leaving Shawn unrestrained, ungagged, and barely even hurting. But that could change in an instant. He could be lying.
Shawn remembered an old lesson as his eyes scanned the room; people lied, but their stuff didn't. He allowed himself a humorless smirk as he mentally added, 'unless their stuff was a slave who knew how to lie.'
He needed to know who Gus actually was.
Gus' room looked fairly typical for a teenager's room, though definitely neater than most. A few movie posters were hung on the walls, thick books and thin comics filled a small bookcase in the corner, and a black and white image of a UFO graced his bedspread along with the words 'The Truth is Out There'.
A memory rose up of a different bedroom with toys strewn across the floor and a warm comforter with cartoons printed across it. Shawn mentally pushed it away with the ease of practice. He looked closer, hoping for more clues to understand his strange master.
He avoided looking too hard at the desk with his accessories on top and below it, but everything else he could see or remember was carefully scrutinized. Gus had good taste in movies, which was nice but not useful. There were several small trophies displayed neatly on a shelf for scholastic bowls and mathletes, and a large prominent cup stood in the center for a spelling bee; Gus was definitely a nerd and proud of that fact. A jar of nickels was easy to see through the cracked open closet door, several stamps were displayed in a small frame above his desk, and several comics in plastic cases were shown off on the top of the bookcase; he was a nerd who liked collecting things.
That still didn't explain much; there had to be more.
Shawn kept looking for clues and remembered seeing something under the bed when he'd been sitting on the floor. What was that? Things under beds tended to be more interesting than things hanging on the wall. He spent several minutes thinking about it before he realized he could actually move and look. It has been a long time since he wasn't at least ordered to 'stay' when he didn't have a task to do. Gus had only used the command once, and even that had almost seemed like an accident.
Maybe it was a test. He could show that he wouldn't take his privilege for granted, that he could behave without being forced to by the collar. He could sit still and wait… he could. The little voice chose that moment to start nudging him, insisting that he look and know as much as possible. It was how he survived, and what his master didn't know wouldn't hurt him, and what on earth was under there anyway?
Shawn was on his knees before the thought finished forming, digging around under the bed and easily ignoring the spikes of pain along his back. He'd had worse. He grabbed the object and pulled, bringing a large sheet of wood out into the light. He sat back and studied the strange thing that was in his strange master's room and a strange feeling rose through his thoughts. He had no idea what he was looking at.
Was it really too much to ask for just one thing to make sense?
He took a deep breath and looked at the wood closer, like his dad had trained him to do. He didn't know what it was, but he should be able to figure something out about it. The large square was almost big enough to be a small stage, but Gus didn't seem like the public speaking type. The middle was scuffed up and chipped while the outside was almost untouched. The scuffs were the right size for a shoe…
Shawn made his way to the closet and started digging through the shoes, looking for anything that would cause the chips. He hit jackpot on the third pair he flipped over, and he studied the metal plates that were attached to the shoes' soles. He looked over at the wood as the pieces fell into place.
His master was a tap dancer.
He should probably try to not be kicked by him, then.
Shawn nodded his head in satisfaction at the solved mystery and carefully put everything back where he'd found them. It was hard, not just throwing everything around and seeing what else he could find, but he'd listened to the small voice enough. He needed to be careful.
Gus wasn't the first master who'd tried to charm him into compliance, afterall. And he did not want a repeat of that nightmare. If he stayed good, Gus would stay nice, and he could keep getting good food and not being forced to sit still for hours on end.
His eyes slid over to the desk and what he knew was in the trash under it; there were worse things than just being restrained.
He sat back on the bed and grabbed the last bite of pineapple, putting it in his mouth and sucking all of the tangy sweet juice out. He hadn't had pineapple in years; it had always been his favorite. He bit down on the bite and enjoyed the last bit of juice that squeezed out before swallowing it down. If he stayed good, he could keep getting good things.
He could do that, right?
Shawn's hand started to twitch, picking at the bottom of his shirt as he sat and waited for his master to come back.
Gus came back after about an hour holding a plate with a thick slice of bread slathered with butter. Shawn's mouth started watering at the hearty warm smell, but he kept himself still and watched his master for his cues. Gus had said he was bringing food back, but he might have changed his mind. It could be for Gus, or it could be to remind him of his place, or Gus could want something before he handed it over.
Gus didn't seem aware of Shawn's internal calculations as he held the plate out and prompted, "It's for you. I wasn't sure if you'd have room for anything else, I know that people who've been… Uh. I know- I'm guessing- you haven't eaten much recently. And I didn't want you to get sick."
"Thank you," Shawn said sincerely as he fought against the instinct to add the 'master' or 'sir' at the end. It was good not having to remind himself of his place any time he talked, but his words almost felt incomplete without them. Like a song that ended before the chord was resolved.
Gus nodded and seemed relieved that he didn't have to say anything else as he collapsed into his chair with a groan. Shawn watched him as he took a bite, quickly suppressing a moan of delight as the bread practically melted on his tongue. He was being allowed to speak; he couldn't be too noisy and lose that privilege.
Gus noticed him watching and explained in a grumble, "Parents are dumb."
Shawn huffed in amusement and took another bite of the heavenly bread. He'd probably feel the same way if his parents were still around.
"Sorry, that's probably not cool to say," Gus acknowledged. "But it's true."
Saying something was risky, but what was the point of having the freedom if he didn't use it? "Well, you did buy me without asking them…"
"I know..." Gus whined. "I know it over five times now because they keep having to bring it up! If I have to hear 'I wanted a female' one more time…"
Unease crawled in Shawn's gut, and he quickly took another bite to chase it down. Gus was his master, but his parents were in charge. It wasn't good when someone in charge of him was unhappy.
Something must have shown on his face, because Gus sighed again and said, "It's fine, she'll cool off. They're dumb, but they aren't mean." He snorted and added, "At least not intentionally mean… I'll make sure they treat you right."
That didn't really mean much; people could treat their stuff however they wanted. There wasn't any 'wrong' way, unless they were worried about resale value. That didn't seem to be what Gus meant, though.
"Dad has some chores he wants help with in the garage tomorrow. I figure… I shouldn't tell you to do anything I wouldn't do. So, we can work on it together."
He should keep his mouth shut; Shawn knew he should keep his mouth shut. "You don't really get the whole slave-master thing, do you?"
Gus smirked, apparently appreciating the snark. "Honestly? I never really thought about it before now."
"Must be nice…" Shawn muttered before flinching. This was why he shouldn't talk. Here Gus was acting nice and Shawn just had to ruin it and-
"Yeah, I probably deserved that," Gus agreed with a wince. "Sorry."
It was safer to stay quiet for a while until he knew he could control the words coming out of his mouth again. Shawn compensated by stuffing his mouth full of food as he squashed the small voice that was telling him Gus was good.
He'd misread people before; he wasn't going to let himself hope again. He couldn't. Masters weren't good or bad, they were just masters.
Gus watched him, looking unsure of himself as he asked, "So, uh… It's early, but it's also been a long day. Do you want to go to sleep once you're done eating or watch a movie first?"
The feeling of being wrongfooted was starting to become terrifyingly normal today, and that was not a safe way for a slave to feel. A beep prompted Shawn to answer as his brain scrambled to understand what was going on. Was it a trap? "I'll do whatever you want, sir."
Gus groaned as he ran his hand over his head. His eyes suddenly widened and darted around the room as his breathing picked up. Shawn added another tick to his silent tally; this was at least the fourth almost-panic-attack Gus had had today. The question was: was that normal, or was it all because of Shawn?
"Crap," Gus squeaked out before closing his eyes and taking several deep breaths. His voice sounded almost normal when he spoke again. "How do you- no, wait, I probably don't want to… Um. Are you supposed to sleep here? Or is there, like, an official place a- you are supposed to sleep?"
"I sleep where you tell me to," Shawn answered, fighting to suppress the 'sir' again.
"Of course. Of course that's the answer!" Gus whined, sounding on the verge of panicking again. At this rate, there was a good chance his new master was going to die from a heart attack. "Ok. Okokok, this is fine. Dad said to get you settled in my room, so you should probably sleep here too. Which means…"
He stood up and Shawn flinched away at the fast movement. Being freaked out could easily turn to being angry, and Shawn knew what happened when a master was angry.
A whine caught his attention and he looked over to see a pained expression cross Gus's face before he turned away to dig through the closet. Shawn watched as worry coiled in his stomach. He should have snooped further so he'd know what Gus was looking for.
"There you are," Gus muttered before pulling out a puffy sleeping bag. "Um, I know this isn't the best, but I don't have any futon or inflatable mattress or anything…" He looked at his bed, guilt easy to read on his features.
Shawn quickly spoke up around his relief. "Thank you, sir. It's better than… It's good."
He didn't need to give his master any ideas.
"Ok, good." Gus glanced around the room again before crossing in front of Shawn and spreading the sleeping bag on the floor between the bed and the window. He made another trip to the closet to grab a pillow, which he placed at the head of the makeshift bed. "Do you need anything else?"
His new master was so strange. "No, thank you."
Gus nodded and hesitated, as if he was going to say something before thinking better of it. He thought for a second and tried again. "You don't need to rush; I'm just going to read a little bit to wind down. You can lay down whenever you're ready and… Uh. You can sleep."
Shawn couldn't help his smile as Gus tried to cover all of his bases. "Thank you." He looked at his half-finished plate and asked, "Do you want me to take this back when I'm done?"
He could show he could be a good slave. Then Gus wouldn't have any reason to stop being nice.
"Nah, it's fine. It can wait until morning." Gus leaned over the bookcase and browsed the titles.
Shawn finished his bread and glanced at the empty water cup several times before building up enough courage to ask, "Is it ok if I get myself more water?"
"Yeah, sure." Gus said without looking up from the book he'd picked out. "Fill it from the sink in the bathroom." His eyes suddenly widened and snapped up to Shawn's collar before he quickly added, "I rescind the order. Uh… Do what you want, the sink is the best place to fill it up."
Shawn stopped and stared as he tried to remember if anyone had ever rescinded an order like that before. His memory was good -too good- and he couldn't remember a single other instance besides Gus removing all of his previous owner's rules earlier that night.
It could be part of a mind game, making him think he had control over things before taking it away again, but that didn't seem to fit what Shawn was seeing. He quietly picked up the cup and walked across the hall to the bathroom as the storm continued to brew in his mind.
He couldn't trust his master, masters couldn't be trusted. Masters took his trust and turned it into a weapon to hurt him; he should have learned that by now. Hope was best left in the past.
Shawn filled the cup and carefully avoided looking in the mirror as he turned to go back into Gus' room. It had been a long day; he could just accept the kindness and figure everything else out later. He was full, he wasn't bleeding, and he was going to sleep without being restrained. That was good and deserved to be enjoyed for as long as he could.
He could figure out his strange master later.
The void surrounded Shawn as he knelt on the hard floor. His hands clutched each other behind his back as his hitched breathing echoed strangely through his skull. Something touched his shoulder and he flinched away; even a simple touch felt like he was being branded after not being able to see or hear anything for… however long it had been.
The hand came back with a smack to the side of his head and he tried to guess where the next touch would be. His master sometimes had parties, was this one of them? Was that why he'd been left to kneel alone forever without any contact?
Another hand touched him, running down his back, and he tried to keep himself still. If he was good, his master might let him see again. The hand left and he was floating, just waiting for the next contact with the real world.
Electricity suddenly jolted through his neck, his muscles locking up at the pain. It didn't even last a second, and Shawn knew it had been the collar prompting him to follow an order. He just didn't know what the order was; he couldn't even hear the warning beeps to brace himself for another shock.
He took a gamble and said, "Yes, master," into his gag, the spikes digging into his tongue no matter how carefully he tried to work around them. There weren't any other correctional shocks and he hoped that meant he'd made the right choice.
A hand landed on his head, and he jolted as a different kind of electricity seemed to prickle wherever it touched, the feeling magnified to the point where he could feel every strand of his hair moving against his scalp. The hand petted him several times, the touch a warm comfort after so long of being alone.
He tried to lean into the touch, but another hand pinched him hard on his side, forcing him to sit up straight with a small yelp. The hands left quickly as another shock ran through him. He needed to stay quiet; this master didn't like sounds unless it was in response to an order.
The hand returned to his head, rough this time as it clenched in his hair and pulled back. His scalp seemed to sear wherever the hair pulled tight, and he moved with it, baring his throat to whoever was there. His collar moved as something was attached to it and he almost cried in relief; he knew what he was supposed to do now.
His head was released and the collar tugged, showing him which way he needed to move. He climbed to his feet before another, stronger shock sent him crashing back to his knees. He could almost feel the laughter around him as he struggled to figure out what he was supposed to do. Someone must have taken pity on him as a shoe nudged his shoulder, pressing down until he was on his hands and knees. He felt a burst of gratitude towards them as he understood and started to crawl…
Shawn jolted again, his muscles shaking from the remembered shocks as he snapped his eyes open, trying to reorient himself. It was still dark; he was still blindfolded. Something soft was under his hand; he must be sleeping in his master's bed again. He was lying on his stomach and sharp pains twinged across his back…
The memory of another time he'd been on his stomach pressed in, with bruising heat spreading from the welts on his shoulders as he was hit again and again and… Shawn whimpered and cringed away, trying to escape the pain as it grew, shifting to something sharper that cut lines of fire across his skin over and over…
Light suddenly blinded him as an unfamiliar voice asked, "Hey, are you ok?"
"Yes, master," Shawn gasped out, answering reflexively before realizing he'd been able to actually say the words. He wasn't gagged, he could see, he could hear, he wasn't restrained… Something touched his shoulder and he smacked it away without thinking, desperate to get away from all of the hands touching him.
He froze a second later as his reality came crashing down on him. He'd been sold, he had a new master, he was in his master's bedroom… He looked up in dawning horror, seeing his new master kneeling in front of him with his hands held out in a calming manner.
He'd hit his master.
Shawn scrambled to his knees and clasped his hands behind his back as he bowed his head. He knew what he needed to say, there was only one thing a slave could say in this situation. "I'm sorry, master, it was an accident, please punish me so I can learn from my mistake."
"I- You… what?"
His master sounded confused. Maybe he'd used the wrong words. He needed to say it right, to make sure the punishment didn't get worse.
"I hit you, master. I need…" Shawn remembered the words his master's father had used earlier that day. "I need to be disciplined."
His master moved and he couldn't stop his flinch; punishments for hurting his master were always bad. His hands stung from remembered hits and he forced himself to stay still.
His new master had seemed nice so far, though he'd probably ruined that now. Hopefully his master would just use the collar and be happy; he wouldn't even have to deal with blood that way.
"Dude… You were having a nightmare and I grabbed you… You're supposed to be punished for that?"
Masters always liked when he said what he'd done wrong. "Yes, master. I hit you."
There was a sound of shuffling and a grumbled curse before his master sighed, "it's too early for this…"
His master stood and walked past him; Shawn tensed, waiting for the first hit. His master kept walking, and Shawn's heart stuttered at the realization that he was walking straight towards the trash can that still held the gag.
Shawn trembled and had to stop himself from begging. He'd messed up, he'd been too loud for his master to sleep, he'd hit his master, he probably deserved the gag. Maybe it would only be a nightly thing… It had been so nice to be able to talk for real, to be just a little bit more human.
His master stopped at the desk and Shawn fought to breathe, listening for the sound of the trash can rubbing on the carpet. He didn't hear what he was expecting, and his master walked back towards him. Shawn kept his eyes down, too afraid to risk looking up to see what was coming.
A half-full water glass was placed in front of him, and his master sat on the floor, easy to see but too far to hit again.
What game was he playing?
"It's just water, you can drink it," his master prompted.
It wasn't an order, but not following the implied order would just make things worse. Maybe the water was drugged?
Shawn tried to hide his small sniff as he lifted the glass and started to drink. He'd probably drink it anyway, but it was always better to not be surprised by something like that.
It seemed to only be water, though, and the coolness in his throat and the smooth glass under his hands washed more of the panic away. He'd always been good at reading people; once he'd become a slave it had become one of his best tools. But he still didn't know what to expect from his new master.
Maybe he wanted to surprise Shawn with the punishment? Or make sure he was fully aware before starting? Surely there had to be something; no master would let something this big go without hurting him.
The small voice tried to tell Shawn that this master was different, that he'd already been caught breaking a large rule and not been punished. Maybe it would be ok.
He shoved the voice back down. It was what made him do things that he was punished for later. That voice was what made him hope before it was taken away. That voice was bad.
"Ok, look. From what little I can tell, it would be weird for you to not have nightmares," his master said, sounding tired and just a bit disturbed. "When people are asleep, they don't have control of what they do. You don't need 'disciplined' for having a bad wake up."
Shawn's mind raced. People were allowed to have bad wake ups, but slaves weren't people. That fact had been beaten into him until he could say it without the collar shocking him for lying. Was he supposed to offer up punishment ideas instead? To show that he was good?
"I know it'll probably take some time, just…" His master sighed; it was Shawn's fault. "I meant it, when I said I don't want to hurt you."
He didn't say he wouldn't hurt him, just that he didn't want to. The honesty was nice. It made sense; of course he was going to be hurt. He'd hit his master.
"Let's go back to sleep and not worry about it, ok?"
Wait, no. That didn't make sense.
Shawn answered the question without thinking, his surprise bypassing the fragile mental filters he had in place. "That's it? You're not even going to shock me?"
He immediately snapped his mouth closed. Why did he have to say that? Why couldn't he just keep his mouth shut for once and stay good?
"What… No I'm not going to shock you!" His master seemed appalled at the question. Maybe he should have picked a better punishment. "Jesus Christ. You had a nightmare, it happens. You didn't even hurt me…" He shook his head in bewilderment. "What did you think I was going to do?"
Shawn's mind was too loud to properly lie without the collar catching it. "I thought you'd gag me, at least."
The silence after his answer was deafening. His master finally said, "I threw those away, why would you think I'd want to use them?"
"Because they're still there." It wouldn't be the first time someone had played a game like that. He'd really hoped this master was different, though. He should have known better.
"Shit."
Shawn flinched at the curse; why did he have to remind him? Now he was mad and the gag was definitely coming out.
His master stared at him for almost a full minute before finally moving, confirming Shawn's fears as he stood up and walked towards the desk. He pulled the trash can out into the open, but instead of reaching in, he brought it back to Shawn.
That made sense; his master didn't like blood. The gag was still covered with dry blood, so he was probably going to have Shawn get it. He might even make him put it on himself, which was just…. He could do it; he could be good. It could be worse.
His master angled the trash can towards him so he could see inside, and Shawn waited for the order. He could do it… but he didn't think he could do it without being ordered first.
"They're all in there, right?" his master asked. Shawn frowned, not hearing what he was expecting to hear.
He needed to answer the question though, so after a quick glance to confirm that the gag, blindfold, and ear muffs were all tangled together he answered, "Yes, master."
Was he going to have to put all of them on himself? He didn't know if he could do that…
"Good," his master said before pulling the bag out of the trash can and tying it closed. He held it out as he ordered, "Take that and follow me."
Shawn automatically took the bag and stood up to follow his master as he tried to regain his mental footing. What was going on?
They went outside, and Shawn glanced around the dark yard as the chill from the cooled driveway ran through his bare feet. It wasn't cold out, just cool enough to be noticeably different from the house. It wouldn't be too bad to sleep out here if that was what his master ordered.
He was led to a large bin at the end of the driveway, and his master opened it before ordering, "Throw it inside."
The small, dangerous voice was back, whispering hope in his ear as he threw the gag set into the large trash can and watched the lid close on top of it. His master didn't go inside, instead walking over to the grass and sitting down, patting the ground next to him in a silent order to sit.
Shawn did as he was told and his master explained, "I always get woken up early on Mondays anyway. The trash trucks come around four thirty. I figure we probably won't have to wait long."
Shawn looked over at his master -at Gus- in surprise before turning to watch the trash can. The hope was growing louder, and he stopped trying to fight it.
"I don't know what everything's going to look like… But, I know that I want to be different than the owners that would hurt you for just being… for being a person," Gus said softly, watching the road. "I know you have to do what I tell you, but I figure I have to make sure you're taken care of in return." A truck turned onto their street. "I don't expect you to trust me yet, I sure as hell know I wouldn't. Hopefully this'll help, though."
There wasn't any question to answer, and what could Shawn say to that anyway? They watched the truck slowly make its way up the road until it stopped in front of them. A muscular slave hopped down from the back of the truck and nodded towards them respectfully before rolling the trash can over to be dumped into the back of the truck. Shawn saw the small bag from Gus' room fall through the air and become lost among the pile of trash and filth.
"You don't have to follow me, I rescind the order. Sorry about that, by the way, I just… You didn't seem like you were going to be able to do anything without it being an order. You can come into the house or stay out here, no rush." Gus yawned as the truck continued to make its way down the street. "I'm going back to bed. See you in the morning."
Gus stood up and walked away, and Shawn reveled in the fact that he had a choice, that he wasn't being punished, that Gus seemed to care. He sat in the grass and continued to watch the truck until it turned out of sight, taking the small bag of horrors out of Shawn's life for good.
His master was strange. But it was a good strange.
A/N: I would LOVE for Shawn to be himself right away after the last chapter... But years of trauma, brainwashing, and training don't go away with only one big act of kindness.