A/N: Warning, there's questionable sermons in the flashback and present. I used the NIV translation for the Bible verses.

(10 years ago)

Burton wiggled in the pew; why did he have to wear a tie to church? The rest of his dress clothes were fine, but the tie always made everything feel stuffy. Joy sat next to him, her eyes staring at nothing as she slipped her bright yellow heels on and off again.

"Our gospel reading today is from First Peter, Chapter two, verses sixteen through eighteen."

Burton stood when his mother stood and tried to pay attention to the preacher. He'd been promised ice cream if he learned something.

The preacher turned the large Bible's pages deliberately and began to read in a strong voice. "'Live as free people, but do not use your freedom as a cover-up for evil; live as God's slaves.'" Burton scratched his neck under his shirt collar. What was the point of ties anyway, to be as uncomfortable as possible? The preacher continued. "'Slaves, in reverent fear of God, submit yourselves to your masters. Not only to those who are good and considerate, but also to those who are harsh.' So says the Lord."

Burton said the response with the rest of the congregation and sat back down, fighting the urge to start kicking the pew in front of him. He focused on the preacher's weird white collar -was it as stuffy as a tie?- and tried to listen to the sermon.

"Brothers and sisters, we are gathered here today, and we are blessed." The preacher paused for the crowd to murmur in agreement. "I say, we are blessed!" Several Amens were heard in the louder response. "Do you know what I did this morning? My electric alarm clock woke me up. I put clothes on that were made in a factory. I ate a breakfast of fruit fresh picked from our orchards and milk that I bought from a fully stocked store. I checked the weather on my phone, and I drove on our clean streets. Do you know how all of these things were possible?"

Something poked Burton's side and he looked over with a glare. Joy kept staring forward with an innocent look on her face.

"They were all possible… because of our hard working slaves." The preacher let the silence settle before continuing. "We live in a truly blessed time, and none of it would be possible if not for the slaves that work on our streets, in our factories…"

Burton noticed movement out of the corner of his eye, and he reacted quickly, blocking his sister's hand before she could poke him again. He glanced over at her, but she kept her eyes forward while trying to hide a smile. Her hand started creeping across the pew, and he tried to silently mount a counter attack, slapping her hand aside and going for her hip.

A loud hiss drew both of their attention and they turned as one to see their mother giving them the Look. She scrunched her eyebrows even further and shook her head sharply before joining in on the scattered Amens of the crowd. Burton kept a close eye on his sister as he straightened up and tried to be good.

"Truly, they are a gift from God!" The crowd responded with more enthusiasm. Burton didn't see what there was to be excited about. "Now, I ask you. How many of you can truly say that you have shown the same commitment and devotion of a slave in your own servitude to the Lord?"

Burton itched his neck again; why did sermons always have to last so long? The preacher hadn't said anything interesting yet; what was there to even learn?

Joy moved again and he readied himself for another attack, but she offered a peace offering instead in the form of a curled hand with her thumb sticking straight up. Burton reached out slowly and locked their fingers together, with his thumb resting lightly on the top of her hand. He counted quietly in his head as they tapped their thumbs back and forth.

One, two, three, four, I declare a thumb war.

The war was fought in silence. Burton was at a disadvantage with his smaller hands, but he wasn't afraid to play dirty. He lunged his thumb forward, staying on the outside where she couldn't pin him. His thumb slid along the base of her thumb, putting pressure down as he pulled forward, trying to capture her without any casualties. She twisted away at the last second and he realized the vulnerable position it left him in right before her thumb came back down, pinning him like a bug under a microscope.

He gave it his all, but in the end his troops were defeated, and his sister was victorious. He quickly offered his hand again, ready for a rematch.

As Joy linked their hands together, he was suddenly jostled to the side as his mother elbowed him. Joy took his distraction to score another win, but he was more concerned with the glare being leveled at them. His mother pointed in their direction angrily before pointing back to the pulpit with an emphatic look. They both nodded and folded their hands back in their lap.

"... I hear people crying out every day, 'Why does God allow this to happen?' And do you know what I say to them? Have faith. We are our Lord's slaves. Exodus twenty-one tells us, 'Anyone who beats their slave with a rod must be punished if the slave dies as a result.' Our Lord is the perfect master, he will not let us perish…"

Something poked Burton's side, and he set his jaw in determination. A battle had been lost, but the war could still be won. He began planning a sneak attack as he waited for Joy to make her next move.

Ice cream could wait. Right now, he had to beat his sister.

(Present day)

Gus straightened his tie and checked his shirt collar, making sure everything was in the right place. It was too bad that his mother was so picky about what he wore to church; if his tie was comic-themed, it would be worth how it made everything feel stuffy. He caught Shawn giving him a look and asked, "What?"

Shawn smiled brightly once he realized Gus had noticed him. "You're always so dressed up normally, I didn't realize you could get even more dressed up."

Gus shrugged. "I like to look nice. You look good too, by the way."

And he did look good; the dress shirt fit him perfectly, and the dark green brought out his hazel eyes without making him too noticeable. Shawn apparently didn't appreciate the compliment as his smile turned brittle and he only answered, "Thank you, Gus."

During Gus' research, he'd stumbled across the term 'snakes in the grass'. It was a phrase for things that one person saw as safe and innocent, but another person saw as dangerous. Some days it seemed like Shawn's world was more small patches of grass in a sea of snakes.

"You're welcome," Gus answered, making a mental note to not comment on Shawn's appearance very much. Which was going to be hard when he still hadn't scheduled a hair cut for him. "Are you ready?"

Shawn's eyes flicked over to the desk where the leash was laying. "I'm ready."

Gus sighed at the reminder and grabbed the leash, shoving it in his pocket. "I don't know what you believe in, so after today if you want to stay home when we go to church, that's fine. It's your choice."

It was obvious that the idea of having choices was another snake for Shawn, but that one Gus refused to avoid. If he could defang even one of them, then the king cobra constricting around Shawn's preferences was the one he was going for.

It was quite possible that he was taking the snake analogy too far.

Shawn followed him down the stairs and they both stood in the living room, waiting for Gus' mother's approval. She crossed her arms as she looked them both over carefully. "Why isn't he wearing his leash yet?"

"He doesn't need it in the house," Gus complained.

Her lips tightened as her eyes dropped to their feet. "Why is he wearing sneakers?"

"Because you said, and I quote, 'buy a nice pair of pants and a shirt,'" Gus pointed out with a smirk. It was so satisfying to use his parent's words against them. "You never said anything about shoes."

She glared at Gus as though he'd chosen the shoes to deliberately annoy her. Which, to be fair, he would have if he'd thought of it at the time. For a second, it looked like she'd tell Shawn to go barefoot, but she finally sighed in annoyance. "Fine. At least they're dark. Leash him, then let's go."

Gus' smile fell and he grumbled quietly as he reached into his pocket and pulled the leash out. Shawn obediently lifted his chin, allowing easy access to his collar. Gus immediately dropped the leash once it was attached, and it hung down the green shirt like a demented tie. He'd done what his mother asked, but it didn't mean he had to restrict Shawn's movements yet. Even if Shawn was back to slave-mode now that he was around Gus' parents.

Gus' neck itched again, and he felt a surge of guilt as he reached up to scratch it. He suddenly hated every tie for existing as a fashion statement when Shawn was standing right in front of him, not even allowed to touch where his collar chaffed.

"Oh, I almost forgot," his mother said from behind him, making him jump. "Shawn, you will be polite, you will only speak when spoken to, and you will listen to the preacher. Maybe you'll learn something."

Gus saw red as the collar blinked green. "Mom! You promised-"

"I said I wouldn't restrict him around the house, but I won't be taking any chances while we're out and about," she said with an air of finality. "Shawn, do you understand your orders?"

"Yes, ma'am," Shawn answered in a quiet monotone as his eyes stayed locked on the floor.

There was no way in hell Gus was going to let that go. She wasn't the only one who could give orders. "Shawn-"

"Burton," his mother interrupted with a death glare. "Leave it."

"You realize you're literally making him say things, right?" Gus spat out with a death glare of his own.

"He's being polite, isn't he?" She pointed at him warningly. "Leave the orders alone, or I'll go and find that gag he was bought with."

Shawn had slowly curled in on himself during the argument, and at the mention of the gag he completely froze. He was so different from the smiling person that had been in Gus' room just a few minutes ago. It made Gus want to punch something until it broke into a thousand pieces. Preferably something his mother cared about.

"You're staying away from him the rest of the day," he growled, fighting the urge to take a step forward and put himself between his mother and his slave.

"If he behaves himself." His mother turned sharply and walked to the garage with her head held high.

Gus focused on the feeling of his fingernails digging into his palm as he breathed through his anger. How was it possible to love and hate someone at the same time? Once he was sure his emotions were back under control, he quietly asked Shawn, "Are you ok?"

"Yes, sir."

Gus gritted his teeth. How far was this going to set back Project 'Teach Shawn That He Matters'? He could just rescind all of the orders and tell Shawn to fake it… His shoulders slumped as he remembered telling Shawn he wouldn't make him choose between his owners. Damnit, he hated being responsible.

"I'll make this up to you… somehow," Gus promised as he led the way to the garage. "Let's get this over with."

Shawn followed meekly behind, his eyes lowered and his hands clasped behind his back.

Their church was properly traditional, with a tall white steeple and large stained-glass windows leaving little to the imagination. The flower beds were cheerfully colorful, the bushes were sternly trimmed, and the few trees that were allowed to grow were small enough to not cast much shade. Normally, Gus wouldn't notice any of it and just walk through the front doors like he did every Sunday. Today, though, he saw it all through new eyes as he let Shawn out of the back seat.

Who kept the flowerbeds neat? How was the church still so white without any mold or dirt? How often did the bushes need to be trimmed to be so perfectly flat?

His mother huffed and stood right in front of them. "Hurry up, someone might see."

It was too bad he was trying to treat Shawn right. It would be so satisfying to order him to move slower, just to watch his mother squirm. "What's the matter? Would the trunk have been a more socially-acceptable place for him?"

"You'll be keeping those types of thoughts to yourself, young man." She glared, her long floral dress fitting in perfectly with the cultivated landscape. "I'll let you get away with it at home, but don't you dare embarrass me here."

"Well, let's get on inside, then!" Gus' father cut in. "We don't want to lose our seats."

"As if anyone would dare take them." His mother gave him one more warning look before turning around.

Gus closed the car door, just barely stopping himself from slamming it. He was more likely to scare Shawn with the noise than make a point. "You still ok?"

"Yes, sir," Shawn's eyes flicked up and he quickly added, "It looks nice."

Like Gus was the one who needed consoled right now. Gus shook his head and started walking. "It looks like a church."

As soon as they were through the doors, Gus was greeted by a warm smile and a large paper bulletin. He accepted it from the older man as he said, "Morning, Craig."

"Morning, Burton!" Craig looked Shawn over, his large smile never budging. "Well, now. Your mother told me you'd bought a slave. He looks nice; I bet he's a real sweetheart for you."

"Yep, he's great." Gus smiled back, not caring at all that it was clearly forced. "I need to catch up to Mom and Dad…"

"Howabout I take him and get him settled for you?" Craig held out his hand expectantly.

Gus held onto the leash tighter. "That's alright, he can sit with us."

Craig tutted as people filed around them. "Slaves don't sit in the pews. They either stay in the back, or they go downstairs to help with the kids. Surely you knew that already?"

How much of this world had he just never thought about? And what was so wrong with slaves sitting anyway? Wasn't church supposed to be for everyone? "Yeah, you're right, I just forgot. It's fine, I can take care of him. You have other people to greet."

"Alright, I'll see you in the service!" Craig looked past him and smiled brightly. "Good morning Mrs. Winson, we haven't seen you for a few weeks. How have you been?"

Gus walked up the stairs, his stomach tying in knots as he realized he wouldn't be able to keep Shawn close and safe. Which was ridiculous; people were here for church, not to bother other people's slaves.

There were only two slaves already kneeling in the nook along the back wall, though Gus' family always showed up a bit early. Metal clasps lined the wall for leashes to be attached to, and there was a bar set up high for people to hang their coats or bags. It was a one-stop-shop for everyone's stuff. Gus gritted his teeth and led Shawn to the next open slave spot.

Shawn knelt without being asked, and Gus clipped the end of the leash into the appropriate hook. The other slaves were cuffed, but there wasn't any sign saying it was necessary. Gus hesitated; he really didn't want to leave Shawn alone, but his mother was probably already wondering what was taking so long. "I'll come get you as soon as the service is done. Do you need anything?"

"No, sir."

Gus nodded and walked away, feeling like a rubber band was stretching tighter and tighter between them. It was wrong, it was wrong, it was wrong…

His mother was talking to Marge when he slid into the pew. "Oh, those poor dears. You just let me know when I can come by with dinner; I'll make sure there's plenty of leftovers."

Gus sat down and slouched just enough for it to be obvious he was sulking without being so obvious that his mother could call him out on it. Why weren't they bothered by how wrong everything was?

"That's very sweet, I'll let them know." Marge turned to him, her jeweled glasses catching the light as she said. "Oh, hello there Burton. I heard the news... Your very first slave! It must be exciting."

"Yep," Gus answered, staring straight ahead.

"Oh, don't mind him. He woke up on the wrong side of the bed."

Gus ignored them as he stared at the ever-burning candle. Was it a slave or a staff member who changed it during the week when it burned out?

"Ah, Nolan was the same way at that age. So moody…"

Gus slouched further as he was talked about like he wasn't there. They'd be moody too if they were the only not-dumb person in the room. Though, he couldn't do Shawn dirty like that. He was the only not-dumb free person in the room.

The room was filled with the quiet sounds of chatter and rustling clothes when the organ started to play and the choir filed into their spots. Gus followed the congregation on autopilot, his mind constantly drifting towards the back of the room where the slaves knelt. What did they think of the service? Did they find it amusing to watch free people follow the silent orders to sit, stand, and speak? Or were they jealous when the free people praised God for the blessings that slaves weren't allowed to have? Or did they actually enjoy the service?

Gus sat after the gospel reading and tried to focus on the preacher. People who were lost were supposed to be found, and he was so lost. Maybe there'd be divine words meant for him that would make everything make sense.

"My friends," the preacher started, looking across the crowd. "Today's lesson is truly a joyful one. It is one of trust." The crowd murmured. "Of hope." The crowd grew louder. "And of love!" Gus' mother added her Amen to the crowd and Gus fought to not roll his eyes.

"Today, our Lord teaches us what truly matters in this world. Love one another, as I have loved you. Love your neighbor as yourself. Look around and see your neighbors. Your friends, your family, your acquaintances, that one guy who always sits two pews down but you've never learned his name." He paused for the crowd to chuckle. "See your neighbors... and love them."

Several heads turned to take in their neighbors, but Gus would bet money that none turned around to take in the slaves in the back.

"What does love mean, though?" the preacher asked once everyone had settled down. "We know what earthly love looks like, but our Lord said to love each other as he loves us…" Gus started tuning the preacher out as he worried about Shawn. It was obvious he hadn't known any love for the last five years, and who knew what his life was like before that. Was Gus expecting too much from his slave when he thought just a bit of kindness could make him open up? But what else could he really do?

"We're told that love is patient, love is kind…" Gus was trying hard to be patient, but it was so hard. "...it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered…" He was failing on that last point. Sure, he wasn't hurting Shawn when he was angry, but it was obvious he needed to try harder to be calm. "...always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres."

He didn't protect Shawn from the world, his doubts right now proved he wasn't trusting Shawn, not to mention what it did to the 'hope' criteria. And if just the first week was this hard, then how could he possibly think he'd persevere?

He missed having his sister around to distract him; the sermon seemed to be giving him more doubts than answers.

"Leviticus tells us even more what our Lord expects from us, though we do have to take the times into account. I don't think anyone here has a ram to sacrifice to make up for mistreating another person's slave." The preacher paused for the expected laugh and Gus gave up listening to him. Everyone around him was dumb; he'd have to find his own way.

But what was that way? And how could he ever hope to be able to follow it when dumb people would constantly try to put Shawn back down?

Gus stayed lost in his thoughts until the preacher finally concluded his sermon. "So go out and be patient to the next person who cuts you off on the interstate. Go and be kind to the old man yelling in his yard. Go and listen to someone else boast and ask them questions! Go and learn that man's name who sits two pews from you. Go and spread the good news of Love! Love each other, as our Lord loves us. Amen!"

Gus followed along with the bulletin, mentally crossing off the last song, the last response, and the last announcement. Why did church always have to last so long? Finally, they were standing for the benediction, and he couldn't wait to get out of the suffocating church, take off his stuffy tie, and rescind the restrictive orders on Shawn.

The organ played merrily in the background after the preacher dismissed them, and the sound of the crowd grew as everyone grabbed their things and greeted their neighbors. Gus started moving immediately, having already planned the path of least resistance to the back. A hand clamping around his arm stopped him before he could go further than two steps, and he turned to glare at his captor.

"We're going to wait for the crowd to thin out before I show Marge our slave," his mother informed him in a sickly-sweet voice.

Gus tried to yank his arm free. "I promised him I'd find him right after-"

"A few minutes won't hurt him." Her smile grew sharper. "You're going to stay right here."

"It'll be more comfortable outside," Gus tried to bargain. "What if I-"

"No."

"Why?!"

Her voice dripped with venom as she gave the time-honored response. "Because I said so."

Marge sighed loudly from the other side of the pew, breaking through their battle of wills. "I do not miss that age… Nolan wouldn't budge from the TV for a whole week whenever he had a new video game."

His mother's smile turned bright again and she turned to her friend. "I can only hope this will only last a week…"

Gus tore his arm from her grasp, but stayed where he was. She must be the dumbest box of rocks there ever was if she thought he'd drop this after today. But he couldn't say that or she'd assert her authority even worse. And it wouldn't be him paying the price.

He seethed as his mother chatted happily with her friend. His father seemed to have given up on making them get along and had walked away to join another group of regulars across the room. The coward. A few minutes later, his mother turned back to him. "See, look, there's much less people to worry about. Why don't you go fetch our slave now?"

"My slave," Gus hissed at her before stalking away. He forced himself to slow down as he neared the back and attempted to hide the signs of his frustration. Shawn didn't need to be worried about his master being angry while he was being paraded around like a show dog.

Shawn was the last slave left kneeling, and a jolt of guilt cut through Gus' anger. He'd promised. He slowed his movements even further as he reached out and unclipped the end of the leash. "Hey, sorry. I wanted to get you sooner, but Mom happened."

He wasn't sure whether the small head duck was intentional, or just Shawn moving to push himself back to his feet. Hopefully, it was intentional. Gus took a fortifying breath for both of them and led the way back to his mother.

One more hoop. Just one more hoop and they were free for the rest of the afternoon.

His mother met him in the aisle and gestured towards Shawn. "Well, here he is. Not quite what I had in mind, but he's been surprisingly… adequate."

Marge's eyes twinkled along with her glasses as she stepped right up to Shawn. "Well now, let's have a look. He's no red-head, that's for sure." She ran her fingers down Shawn's cheek, pushing slightly to prompt him to move his head back and forth. "He's not bad looking though. Assuming you do something about the hair. It's atrocious."

Every muscle in Gus' body was tense as he forced himself to stay quiet while Marge moved on to running her hand through Shawn's hair. She tousled it before pulling a handful of uneven strands straight up and letting them flop back down. Shawn stayed still and compliant, his face blank.

"I told Burton to take care of his hair..."

"We haven't had time yet," Gus said tensely. Every instinct screamed at him to get Shawn away from the woman touching him, but he had to let it happen. For Shawn's sake.

Just a few more minutes, then they could go and Gus could start trying to make it right again.

"I'll give you the name of the slave groomer my son uses; their slave always looks so sharp." Marge rested her hand on Shawn's shoulder. "What did you name him?"

"Shawn," Gus said quickly before his mother could add any commentary.

"Well, Shawn, are you behaving for my friend?"

"Yes, ma'am," Shawn answered quietly.

"And are they being good owners to you?"

"Y-yes, ma'am."

Gus frowned; it was subtle, but something had changed on Shawn's face. It was how he'd looked right before Gus had accidentally triggered a panic attack at the mall.

"Not bad at all," Marge said. "It's still a shame that Burton picked a male, though."

"I know…" His mother sighed. Gus bit his cheek until he tasted blood; Shawn needed this to be over. Surely their few minutes were almost done by now. "Well, you have your family lunch to go to. I'll see you on Thursday for bridge."

"I'll bring my famous snack mix," Marge answered happily before patting Shawn's shoulder. "Good boy."

Gus' mother smirked good-naturedly as Marge walked off. "I'm not sure if she knows what 'famous' actually means…" Her smile fell as she looked at Gus. "Would you mind telling me what all of that was about?"

"I did everything you said." Gus didn't try to hide the edge in his voice.

"You were acting like a brat the second we got out of the car."

"I wasn't the one-" Gus cut himself off and took a deep breath. They were so close; he couldn't blow it now. "Shawn behaved, I did what you said, you got to show him off like you wanted. Can we go?"

She was going to say no. She was going to say no, and he was going to have to do something drastic, and she was going to disown him, and at this point he might actually be ok with that…

His mother's shoulders slumped as she sighed. "I told Bill this was too much responsibility for you."

Wait, what? Gus' jaw dropped and he stared at his mother. She didn't look mad anymore, just a bit concerned. Which was so unfair.

"We never should have let you make such a big decision on a whim. No wonder you're lashing out. We should have at least insisted on you doing some research before agreeing to keep Shawn."

He didn't need research to know that was the right choice.

"You may have the rest of the day with Shawn," his mother said with a gracious nod. "But I want you to do something for me. You've been so stressed this week; I want you to think about whether this is what you actually want."

"Wh- Of course this is-"

His mother talked over his sputtered defense. "I know you've grown fond of Shawn, and he wouldn't have to go away. We could transfer ownership to me or Bill, and then you'd still get to play with him without any of the extra responsibility."

She looked proud of herself, like she'd just single-handedly cured world hunger, and Gus couldn't do anything except stare. How could she be so wrong about what was going on?

But she wasn't done. "We could probably even afford to buy you a car -a cheap car- for college. So you won't even be losing anything. It'll be more useful than a slave, to be sure."

And suddenly everything made sense again. She was still thinking about how she wanted a slave all year round instead of when Gus had to be home. She was just masking it as concern. The bitch.

"Shawn, we're leaving," Gus spat out as he turned his back on his mother. He spoke louder, so she could hear over the sounds of her own dumbness. "We'll take a bus. We don't need them."

As soon as they stepped foot out of the church, Gus said firmly, "And I rescind all orders. I cannot believe her."

There wasn't any response -why had he expected one?- and Gus looked back in concern. Shawn still had his blank face on as he followed meekly behind him. Like any good slave would. Gus swallowed his sigh and looked forward again; it just took time to switch modes, it was fine. They hadn't lost a whole week's worth of progress because of his mother. She wasn't going to win.

He wouldn't let her.

Shawn was still in slave-mode when they stepped off of the bus in front of the movie theater. But it was fine, because they'd been surrounded by people, so he hadn't wanted to risk making waves. The theater only just opened, there wouldn't be many people there. Gus just needed to get him away from crowds, then he'd go back to Shawn-mode.

Gus could wait. He could… He really couldn't.

"Hey, you doing ok back there?"

"Yes, s- Yes, Gus."

This was all his mother's fault. This was all the world's fault.

And his mother's.

"It's safe to talk now, you know," Gus tried again. "You don't have to. Just, it's safe if you want to."

Shawn nodded, but stayed silent. Gus sighed and cursed every single free person who'd ever looked at a slave weird. Starting with past-him. They walked into the theater and Gus went to the ticket seller. "Hi, can I get two tickets for Mission Impossible?"

Shawn's situation was an impossible mission. And it had a slave as a starring role. And Gus had been wanting to see it anyway. Hopefully Shawn was ok with the choice…

"Of course. We have a holding room for slaves if you'd prefer to only buy one," the seller told him cheerfully.

Gus glared and held out his card. "Two tickets."

The seller's smile dimmed, but they took the card and printed out two tickets. "Enjoy the show!"

"Thanks," Gus grumbled as he took the tickets and went to stand in line for concessions. A TV above him started playing a news report. "After record breaking box office sales, the contract to free Cruise has been fulfilled, and he's expected to make an appearance for the first time as a free man…"

Something gnawed and poked at Gus' mind, exposing something he hadn't thought of. But he should have thought of it. Why hadn't he thought of it?

"Hello, sir, what can I get for you?" the concessions worker asked.

He tried to refocus as his thoughts crashed around him. "Uh, can I get your largest bucket of popcorn and…" he turned to Shawn. "What's your favorite drink?"

A flash of panic showed through the mask before Shawn shook it away and looked up, not quite meeting Gus' eyes. "Fruity drinks taste good."

Gus scanned the list of drinks before completing the order, "and a large orange crush and a blue raspberry slushy."

The worker stared at him for a second before snapping himself out of his confusion. Gus paid and deliberately ignored Shawn's attempt to step forward to carry the purchase. Maybe it was selfish, maybe it was enlightenment, he really didn't care. He was carrying something for Shawn this time.

They reached the empty theater and Gus went straight for the seats in the very back. They weren't the best for watching the movie, but they were the best for not being noticed.

Gus nodded towards the seats. ""I'm not ordering you to sit down, but I can't put these down till you do."

Shawn cocked his head to the side, but he sat down without any other prompts. Gus held the drinks out, hugging popcorn tight with his arm. "You know the drill, pick which one you want."

Shawn reached out slowly to take the orange drink. Gus shuffled everything around before plopping the popcorn on Shawn's lap. "That's for you too, you can eat and drink." He put his drink in a cup holder and asked, "Does your collar know we're in public?"

Shawn stared at the popcorn as he said numbly, "I don't think so."

"Good." Gus reached forward and unclipped the leash. He waited to make sure the collar wouldn't beep before tossing it over the back of the chair next to them. Shawn's jaw dropped and he stared at Gus with wide eyes.

Gus sat down next to him and took a long drink from his slushie before declaring. "The whole fucking world is dumb."

The corners of Shawn's mouth pulled up and he looked back down at his bucket of popcorn. Gus barely heard his quiet, "Thank you," as the trailers started.

He didn't answer, too busy making plans. The world was wrong, his mother was wrong, Shawn being a slave was wrong.

Gus was going to fix that.

A/N: A disclaimer, just in case. Gus is canonically Christian. Religion tends to reflect whatever's currently socially acceptable. This was meant to worldbuild, not to religion bash.

Also, the term "Snakes in the grass" came from an old Tangled fic, but I can't find it again to give credit. It doesn't seem to be a mainstream phrase for trauma, but I loved the imagery and still do. So… Gus reads Tangled fanfic. 14 years before the movie came out.