A/N: I'll never promise 2 updates per week, but it is my hope to do it as often as possible. Hope y'all enjoy!

Credit to Teal Swan blog for the opening quote.

[In a relationship, expecting and assuming are forms of mutual cruelty.]

Gus tapped the end of his pen on his desk as he reread the words for the third time. He couldn't believe he was reading a marriage blog for advice on his slave. He glanced at the pages of statistics homework he was procrastinating on; he couldn't believe he was reading a marriage blog instead of doing math.

He'd tried looking at owner blogs first to learn how to handle Shawn better, but even the ones that claimed to be slave-friendly were quickly exited. Any blog that mentioned petting his slave as a reward wasn't one he wanted to give his clicks to.

The stairs creaked, and Gus quickly shut his laptop before writing down several numbers on his homework that he'd have to correct later. The night after the mall had been a turning point, and Shawn seemed more relaxed now. Gus couldn't ruin that with something as ridiculous as a flowery blog for unhappy wives.

His door opened, and Shawn quietly entered the room. Gus called over his shoulder as he wrote down two more bogus numbers, "Hey, Shawn."

"Hello, Gus."

Gus stared at his equations as he listened for what Shawn was doing with his fifteen minutes of downtime. There was a quiet rustle of someone sitting on the bed, and Gus absently corrected his first number. Was Shawn wanting him to talk? It didn't seem right to intrude and force him to interact with his master when he was supposed to be on a break.

Gus tried to ignore his slave and focused on his homework. He smirked to himself when he saw that he'd almost gotten the second answer right just by eyeballing it. He added a small curve to change a six to an eight and moved on. But why wasn't Shawn moving?

After three more equations, he gave up and checked what Shawn was doing. Shawn quickly looked away from the clock and gave him a smile. He'd been smiling a lot in the last couple of days, but they seemed just a bit too bright, almost like he was trying to overcompensate for something. Still, it was better than panic, so Gus wasn't going to complain.

But now Shawn was waiting for him to say something, and it seemed too awkward to just turn around and go back to his homework. Gus turned his chair and asked the first thing he could think of. "So, how's your back feeling?"

Shawn shrugged and didn't wince. "I don't feel the welts anymore, and I think the sores are scabbed over."

'Sores' didn't seem like the right word for the gouges that littered Shawn's back, but Gus wasn't going to correct him. "That's good. Want me to check them? If the bandages are good to take off, then you can take showers again."

Shawn gave him a strange look before smiling. "Yes, you can check them."

Gus thought about the look and the blog as Shawn took his shirt off. He'd been making another assumption.

Shawn turned around to bare his back, and Gus traced the lines of scars that were visible now that the long red welts were fading. He couldn't blame Shawn for not speaking up; he'd clearly been taught -painfully- to only do as he was told.

Gus had to be more aware of what he was assuming.

"I'm just going to take the bandages off, starting at your shoulder." He waited for Shawn to nod before reaching out and touching his shoulder. Shawn's flinch was noticeable under his fingers, but he tried to not take it personally. He'd probably flinch too if his back looked like that.

The wound under the first bandage was scabbed over, and Gus moved to the next one as he asked, "Do slaves actually take showers?"

He mouthed along with the answer as Shawn said, "A slave does what its master says." Shawn looked back, and the smirk on his face didn't look as forced as the previous smile. "I know how to use a shower."

"Thank god for that," Gus muttered as he continued his work. What assumptions would Shawn have about that? "Well, you're allowed to use the shower. You're allowed to use the shower stuff I bought you, you can get your own towel, there's room on the rack next to mine for you to hang it up…"

Shawn was giving him the Look again, and Gus sighed as he took the last bandage off. "Hey, I'm trying, alright?"

"Thank you," Shawn said, sounding like he meant it.

"You're welcome," Gus answered automatically as he registered the circular burn scars right next to his fingers. Fuck whatever bastard had done that.

"Can I move, s- Gus?" Shawn asked after a few seconds.

Gus shook himself and stepped back. "Yeah, sorry. I'll leave you alone now."

Shawn pulled his new shirt back on and glanced at the clock. "I still have seven minutes." He rubbed his fingers along the seam of his jeans and asked, "Do you think you'd ever eat the cereal sandwich from the Breakfast Club?"

Gus raised an eyebrow at the strange question but still answered, "I'd try it if it was only the cereal, but probably not with the pixie sticks."

Shawn smiled too brightly again. "The cereal's already sweet, the pixie sticks would really be a bit much."

Shawn also never disagreed with him, which made the odd little conversations that kept happening even odder. But Shawn still had six minutes to go on his break, and if this was how he wanted to spend them, then Gus wasn't going to tell him no. "Brian's PBJ and soup was the best lunch. Who brings sushi in a lunch box?"

"Sharks, probably. Is it a school of sharks…?" Shawn frowned in thought before his smile snapped back into place. "PBJ is a classic, you can't go wrong there."

It hadn't even been a week since Gus had bought him, and Shawn was already letting himself relax. It was ok that it was a bit weird. They were making progress.

Shawn closed the door to Gus' room that night and let himself relax as he walked to the bathroom. He'd figured out what Gus wanted from him, and it was so obvious he couldn't believe he hadn't thought of it sooner.

He closed the door to the bathroom and carefully laid down the pajamas that had been handed to him. Slaves didn't need pajamas, but his master didn't want a slave.

Gus wanted a friend.

Shawn took off his shirt and gave it an experimental sniff before folding it up. He could wear it another day before taking up space in a laundry load. He undressed the rest of the way, remembering how the idea had come to him while he'd fallen asleep to the soft glow of the nightlight. The rush of relief had followed him into his dreams as he'd finally known what he needed to do.

It explained everything. Except for the part where Gus said they couldn't be friends, but people said things they didn't mean all of the time. The only bad part was how much energy it was taking to switch between shoving his small voice down when he was working for Gus' parents, and letting the small voice out when he was being friends with Gus.

Shawn turned on the shower and let out a breath before stepping into the water stream. The cold was a shock, but he breathed through it as he started scrubbing his hair. He had to be careful to not let his small voice out too much, though. He'd always been considered high maintenance even before he was collared. He'd been the type of person that most kids wanted to hang out with for an hour, not be friends with.

He lathered and rinsed as fast as he could before turning the shower back off. Cold water dripped under his collar and goosebumps erupted across his body as he dried himself. The cuffs needed extra attention as he shifted them around so he could make sure the skin underneath was completely dry. He always saved the collar for last. He took a deep breath and braced himself for any accidental shocks as he wrapped the towel around his hand and ran it around his neck.

Gus seemed happier since Shawn had started acting friendly, and he clearly didn't have many real friends. It had been almost a whole week and he hadn't mentioned anyone or gone anywhere to hang out. And all of his hobbies were ones that someone could do on their own. It was a bit sad that he'd had to resort to buying a friend, but Shawn wasn't going to complain. It was easily the best he'd ever been treated as a slave.

Shivers ran down his back as he put the pajamas on and quickly brushed his teeth. He stared at the toothbrushes after he put his back in its place. It shouldn't be the same height as Gus'. There was probably something he could put under the purple toothbrush that would make it taller… maybe the cap of the toothpaste?

Shawn started to reach for the tube before he shook himself; he was being ridiculous. He couldn't leave the toothpaste uncapped, it would make a mess. He'd have to think of something else.

He grabbed his clothes, pasted a smile on his face, and walked back into Gus' room.

Gus waited until he heard the shower running before he pulled his real study material out from under his homework. He stared at the rows of numbers and names and tried to understand what everything meant. All of Shawn's past as a slave only took up two pages of paper, and most of that was filled with information on the buyers instead of information on the slave.

There was still plenty of information there, though. He just had to figure out what to focus on. The more he understood about Shawn, the more he could treat him right.

The top of the page had the most obvious information, with the date of the "Tracking Number Assignment" and the series of numbers next to it saying who had sold Shawn into slavery. He'd only been a slave for a little over five years, and Gus had looked up the code, discovering that it belonged to one of the local foster care agencies. Which definitely meant he should stop complaining about his parents to his slave.

Shawn's name didn't appear anywhere on the form, and the only personal information that followed him into slavery was his birthdate. But even that was off, unless Shawn was a very young looking thirty-six year old.

Including Gus, he'd been sold to six people, which seemed like a high turnover rate. Especially since only one of them was a vendor. The longest he'd stayed with anyone was two years.

It was all interesting, but none of it told Gus anything helpful. He was just starting to examine the different sale prices when the shower turned off again. Gus glanced at the clock in surprise; Shawn had taken less than five minutes to shower. At least that meant the water hadn't gone cold on him.

Gus quickly read the numbers before hiding the papers back under his homework. Something had happened with Shawn's first owner that made his price jump up almost four times the amount he'd been bought for, but after that he'd steadily become worth less and less. Gus shook his head at the internal phrasing; numbers on a page didn't affect someone's worth.

At least he could take some comfort in knowing he'd bumped up Shawn's worth by ten grand. Given that meant the vendor had gained ten grand in the sale, it wasn't that much of a comfort.

The door to the bathroom opened, and Gus tapped his stack of papers in thought. It was wrong to snoop about Shawn without him knowing it. Gus had decided to not be a coward, so why was he hiding what he was doing?

He pulled out the slave papers at the same time his door opened. Shawn's eyes flicked over the desk as he walked in, and he hesitated before saying, "I didn't think anyone actually looked at those."

His voice shook slightly, and Gus frowned; maybe he should have kept the papers hidden. But he'd made his decision, and he might as well learn something from it. "I actually need to add my information to it, so I was checking what all I needed to write… Why does it say you were born December 31, 1959?"

"You're definitely the first to look at that part." Shawn's weird smile was back as he set his pile of clothes next to his sleeping bag. "It was the only thing they asked me."

Gus huffed a laugh. Now that he knew where the date had come from, he knew why it had been chosen. "And the person who wrote it down didn't ask why you and Val Kilmer were the exact same age?"

Shawn's eyes lit up and they nearly matched the smile. "Apparently they weren't fans."

"Their loss." Gus stared at the paper. "What happened with your first owner? Why did your price jump up?"

Which was a terrible question in hindsight; there could be so many awful reasons for it. He'd let his curiosity get away from him, he shouldn't have asked…

Shawn answered easily. "He was my second trainer. I was too much of a handful for the official ones."

Gus eyed up the two dollar amounts. "So, he's like a slave flipper?"

"Basically, yeah."

Shawn was standing completely still with his hands twitching by his side; Gus had made him talk about his past enough. He put the papers away to fill out later and walked to the closet. "If you're up for it, I thought we might try something different tonight."

"Something… different?" Shawn asked carefully.

Gus found his checkers board and pulled it out. "Yeah. You know how to play?"

Shawn smiled too brightly. "I know how to play."

Shawn made his way up the stairs the next day, making sure to skip the squeaky step. He just needed a second to breathe before talking to Gus. It was a privilege, to have enough freedom to stop like this, and he couldn't take that for granted. But he also wasn't going to let the privilege go to waste. Especially when he was bracing for the worst part of the week.

His collar let out three angry beeps in reminder and he gritted his teeth as he stepped down to make the stair squeak, warning his master that he was coming in.

"Hey, you're early," Gus said as Shawn walked into the room. His fingers tapped nervously on his closed laptop; he must have been looking at porn again. "I thought Mom was going to have you working all afternoon."

Shawn tried to smile, but it probably wasn't very convincing. "She wanted to, but, uh," his face warmed as he looked down, "my collar needs charged."

There was a beat of silence before Gus spluttered, "Wait, your- charged… You need plugged in?!"

Shawn barked out a laugh. "That's one way of putting it."

"I- How…"

Shawn waited as his master dealt with his carefully-crafted illusion being shattered. It was hard to pretend like a slave was a person when it had to be plugged into the wall.

His collar beeped again and Shawn tensed; it had only been a minute since the last warning. They didn't have long, and his master still wasn't moving.

Gus recovered quickly and was able to use a full sentence to ask, "Do I have time to figure it out, or is it going to start shocking you?"

At least his master was quick on the uptake. "I think you have a few minutes, but most of my masters didn't let it get to the beeping. It's a weekly thing."

"Damnit, why didn't you tell me?" Gus scooted back and pulled the garbage can out from under his desk.

Shawn had assumed he'd known, but he couldn't tell Gus that. "Masters lead-"

"Slaves follow, yeah yeah."

Gus pulled the charging cable out of the trash, and Shawn froze as he looked at the cable, then the trash, then the cable again. The collar chose that moment to beep out another warning, and he flinched violently, expecting pain that didn't happen.

Gus cursed as he opened his laptop and closed a tab that definitely wasn't porn. As he typed, he asked, "How bad is it if we let it run dry?"

Shawn answered shakily as he knelt next to an open power outlet, "It makes sure a slave can't run before it gets to that point."

"Makes sure you don't… It kills you?" Gus yelped.

Shawn's jaw dropped. "What- no! It knocks the slave out and calls the cops."

"That still sounds bad."

"Well, it's not good," Shawn snapped out before flinching. "I'm sorry, sir. I'm sorry."

He was so lucky Gus was nice. The collar beeped. His master was taking too long.

"Not your fault…" Gus read something on the computer before reaching quickly into his pocket for the collar's remote. Shawn put his hands behind his back.

He flinched when Gus pressed a button, but his collar just beeped angrily without a shock. Gus cursed again, and Shawn kept his eyes locked on the carpet. His master was getting angry; that wasn't good.

"'To prevent technical malfunction'?" Gus muttered in frustration as he stared at the monitor. "This says you need to be cuffed and 'set to service mode' before it can be plugged in. You ready?"

Why ask? "Yes, sir."

Both pairs of cuffs suddenly activated and clicked together, and Gus asked over another set of warning beeps, "Is anything weird going to happen when I press the 'service mode' button?"

"No, sir," Shawn answered, tensing for the next warning. Surely his time was up. "It just means I can't move or do anything without an order."

"So freaking dumb." A second later, the collar dinged again, this time with a helpful tone that told Shawn the mode had been changed. A second later, the back of the collar vibrated with a soft rasping noise as the panel over the charging port slid away.

Gus grabbed the cord and moved quickly to Shawn. "I'm going to hold the front of the collar to brace it; I'm not going to hurt you." The edges of his hand brushed by Shawn's throat as he held the collar in place and plugged the cord in. It was nicer than how his other masters had done it.

The collar was heavy with the cord's weight, but it was a familiar discomfort that Shawn could ignore. A happy chime played once Gus plugged the charger into the wall, and Shawn kept himself still as he sighed quietly in relief. He'd thought for sure they were going to be too late.

"Are you allowed to talk right now?"

Of course, his master couldn't be normal and just leave him alone while he wasn't useful.

"Yes, sir. But only for questions."

"What's the point of this mode?" Gus asked in exasperation.

"Dentists usually want to control if a slave talks or moves, sir."

"Dentists… Oh my god. 'Service', like taking your car to be serviced. Unbelievable."

It really was unbelievable how little Gus knew about slaves.

Gus sat on the bed in front of him, giving Shawn a good view of his checkered socks. "Do you have to say 'sir', or is that just you going into slave-mode?"

Shawn blinked in surprise. "Slave-mode…?"

"Yeah, when you remember you're supposed to act like a slave and get all… slave-like."

Sometimes he did that on purpose, but he hadn't realized it had happened this time. "Sorry, s- Gus. I'll try to stop."

It was weird that Gus wanted him to still act like a friend when he was like this, but he'd do what his master wanted.

"No, I didn't mean…" Gus sighed. "I just wasn't sure if it was the collar making you say it. That's all. How long will this take?"

The back of his neck was already warming up. "It takes about an hour."

"Huh." Gus' feet shifted and moved back towards his desk; Shawn returned to staring at the carpet. A bead of sweat dripped between his shoulder blades, and he tracked its movement as he counted down the seconds until he'd be allowed to move again.

An hour wasn't that long for a slave. It really wasn't.

A laptop was suddenly placed in his line of sight, and his master sat down next to him. "The manual said I can't order you to move while the collar's plugged in, so we'll have to make do. Want to rewatch Batman before we have to take it back?"

Shawn stared at the distraction in front of him, and the warm feeling in his chest was completely different from the warm feeling at the back of his neck. "Yes, that sounds good."

Gus tried to keep his anger to himself as they watched Batman fight an army of goons. He thought his parents were dumb, but he was a bonafide idiot. Here he'd been worried about all of the small assumptions he was making through the day, and he hadn't even realized one of the biggest assumptions he'd made the same day he'd bought Shawn.

The collar manual had more information than just how to control his slave.

As soon as Shawn was out of the room, he was going to read that damn book from cover to cover so something like this didn't happen again. He'd nearly gotten Shawn shocked into oblivion just because he'd been an arrogant idiot.

Hell, he'd even thrown away the charging cord. What would have happened if he'd gone through the box just a little sooner? Would Shawn have said anything when he'd checked for the gag? Or would Gus have had to explain to the police that he was an incompetent owner who'd thrown away the charger and he wasn't fit to take care of a slave?

His stomach turned at the thought. He'd nearly hurt Shawn, badly, and this was probably still the best place for him. He had to be more careful.

"Are you doing ok?" Gus checked in as he glanced at the clock; they still had half an hour to go.

Shawn's lips pulled into a small smile. "I'm doing ok, Gus. Just like five minutes ago."

Gus looked him over carefully. He seemed to be telling the truth, but his cheeks were also flushed and the edges of his hairline looked damp. His room didn't feel too warm… "Are you hot?"

"The collar gets warm; I'm fine."

Gus clenched his jaw and swallowed down the urge to growl. Shawn was already teetering between his slave-mode and Shawn-mode; Gus couldn't risk scaring him into submission. But it was messed up that a weekly maintenance for the collar had to be so uncomfortable. There had to be a better way to do it, but no one cared how a slave felt.

At least he could try to help, but Shawn wouldn't agree if he thought he was asking his master for something. Gus chose his words carefully. "I'm going downstairs to get some water. I'd like to bring some back for you, if it would help you be more comfortable." He let Shawn think about it for a few seconds before asking, "Would it help you be more comfortable?"

Shawn's eyebrows furrowed as he fought an internal debate, and he didn't sound sure when he answered, "Yes, Gus."

The churning in Gus' stomach grew stronger at his name being used as a replacement-honorific, but Shawn was trying his best. "Ok, I'll be back in a few minutes. Need anything else?"

"I'm ok, thank you."

Gus stood up and had to bite his lip to keep from cursing when Shawn flinched at the movement. He knew Shawn was tense; he should have moved slower. "Sorry."

He left the room as quickly as he could and made sure to step on the squeaky stair before stopping to calm down. He couldn't freak out in front of Shawn; not when it was his own damn fault for everything. He closed his eyes and only focused on his breathing as something crawled under his skin, urging him to break the first thing he could get his hands on.

Shawn needed water. Gus could get him water. That was all he needed to worry about right now.

Gus let out one more quiet breath and walked down the rest of the stairs. His mother was on the phone when he entered the kitchen, and she waved at him as she chatted away. "... no idea what I was missing out on. You were absolutely right…"

Gus tuned her out as he dug through the cabinets, looking for a cup with a straw. He found one in the very back and rinsed it out before filling it with ice and water. His mother finished her call. "I'll show you tomorrow at church. Bye, now." She hung up and immediately asked him, "Is Shawn good to get back to work?"

Gus groaned, making it as loud as possible. He might be an idiot, but his parents were still dumb. "Not yet. The damn collar takes time to charge."

And now he was going to get a lecture on cursing…

"Burton, are you alright?"

Gus froze as he pulled the glass away from the faucet. His voice wasn't nearly as even as he wanted when he turned and asked, "Why wouldn't I be alright?"

His mother narrowed her eyes as she studied him. "Because you're freaking out. What's wrong?"

Gus' chest ached, and for a second he wanted to tell her everything. About how he didn't know what he was doing, and he was trying his best but things still were still going wrong. About how he couldn't make any decision anymore without thinking about how it would affect someone else. About how he desperately wanted to be better than the world, but he was pretty sure he was just as bad in a different way.

But she'd probably just think he couldn't handle Shawn and take him away. And then Shawn would be hurt, and Gus wouldn't be able to do anything to help him anymore. He shook his head and turned to grab his own glass. "I'm ok, honest. Just a bit stressed about a test coming up."

"...Okay," she said, clearly not believing him. "I know we don't always see eye-to-eye, but you can tell me anything, you know."

He really couldn't. "I know. Thanks, Mom."

He was leaving the room when she called out, "Tell Shawn I won't need him until dinner clean up."

Gus looked back in surprise, but she ignored him as she sorted through her purse. "Oh, and also tell him he's coming with us to church tomorrow. I told Marge we were getting a slave, and she wants to see him."

How was it possible for his mother to be both understanding and exasperating in the same conversation? The mix was too confusing to deal with; Gus rolled his eyes and left the room without another word.

Shawn was still right where he'd left him. Gus shoved all of his emotions down so his hand wouldn't shake when he positioned the straw in front of Shawn's mouth. Shawn took several drinks of water before using his lips to push the straw away, his face completely blank.

Gus put the cup down and glanced at the clock. Twenty minutes to go.

(5 years ago)

The collar dug into Shawn's throat, choking him as he was dragged into a small cabin. The person gripping the back of the collar threw him forward the second they were through the door. He stumbled and fell to the floor, unable to catch himself with his hands cuffed behind his back.

"They really didn't teach you squat, did they, slave?"

Shawn breathed through clenched teeth as he heaved himself back to his feet. "My teachers have always said I'm a bad listener."

"You ain't anymore," the man said, his hands casually resting in his pockets. "Slaves listen when their master speaks."

Shawn braced himself before quickly saying, "Guess I'm not cut out to be a slave-"

Electricity arced through his body, stronger than it had ever been at the slave warehouse. He yelped as his knees buckled and sent him back to the ground.

"Yeah, it hurts, don't it," the man said in an amused voice. "The warehouse doesn't want to risk damaging the merchandise, especially ones that ain't fully grown. My thinking is that you gotta make the punishments count so you don't gotta use 'em as often."

It would be smarter to stay down, to make the man think he'd won. But Spencers didn't know when to give up. Shawn took a shaky breath and forced himself back to his feet. He looked up and glared at the man who'd bought him.

Shawn was going to make sure he regretted that purchase.

The man smirked at the display and drawled out, "Yep, they definitely didn't teach you squat." His eyes sharpened as he ordered, "Down."

Shawn set his jaw and stayed standing. He didn't have a chance, but at least he could prove that he wouldn't take any of this lying down. Or on his knees.

The pain surged through him again, and when his vision cleared, he was kneeling on the wood floor.

"I see the problem here," the man said as he strolled towards Shawn like he didn't have a care in the world. "You still got assumptions in your head. Thinkin' you're still a real boy."

His hand darted forward, grabbing the back of Shawn's collar and dragging him to a short strap tethered to the wall. The man clipped the strap to the collar as he said, "Lesson one, slave. A slave doesn't own its name, its body, or its person. It belongs to its owner, completely."

Shawn gritted his teeth against what he wanted to say. His name wasn't 'slave'.

His hair was grabbed, and his head was forced down as the man spoke in his ear. "You don't own you, slave. And you never will again."

A/N: Most chapters will stay in one POV, the alternating just worked so nicely for this one.