(8 years ago)

"Ugh, I'm bored," Shawn glared at the meat that dared to not be cooked yet. "We've been here for hours."

"Shawn, we've been here for…" his dad checked his watch "...three minutes and twenty-two seconds. You're not bored."

"Yes I am," Shawn whined as he crossed his arms, staring longingly at his bike with all of its streamers and cards in the wheels. He could be having fun right now.

"Think of this as your lesson for the day."

Shawn groaned and slumped dramatically; only his dad could make something that involved fire boring.

His dad used his tongs to tap the side of the grill. "Cooking is just like life. Sometimes you need a bit of patience, but the rewards are worth the wait."

"Mac and cheese would be faster," Shawn muttered.

"Mac and cheese is not real food," his dad argued. "Steak is good for you; it'll help you grow strong, and it's delicious. Tell me, which would you rather be: Arnold Schwarzenegger or Rick Moranis?"

"Is that a trick question?"

"Protein is good for you." His dad pointed at him with a glare, ending the argument. He nodded towards the steaks, bringing them back on topic. "See how the brown color is going up the side? Once that's halfway up, we'll flip them."

Shawn's eyes lit on the small bottle sitting on the ground next to them. "You know what would speed things up…"

He moved fast, bending down to grab the lighter fluid, but his dad caught his hand before he could squeeze it into the grill. "No, no, nononono!" The bottle was wrenched from his hand and his dad held it out of reach. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

His dad was so dumb. "If you make the fire bigger, it'll cook faster."

"No, it'll burn and still be raw on the insides. And you'll probably burn your eyebrows off in the process!" His dad's face was turning an interesting shade of red. "This is what I was talking about. You need to learn how to be patient!"

"It's a holiday," Shawn argued back. "I'm not supposed to be patient on a holiday!"

"Do you even know what we're celebrating?"

"Having dinner with the Indians and giving them all smallpox." Shawn glared at the grill while his dad's face twisted into an exasperated look. "I bet they had steak…"

"That's Thanksgiving." His dad rolled his eyes and put the fire starter down. "Today is Independence Day, where we celebrate our freedom and the people who fought for it. And they never would have won if they weren't patient."

"Does that mean I'm free from going to school?"

"No."

"Am I free from chores?"

"No."

"Am I free from bedtime?"

"No."

"Well I don't feel very free…"

His dad snorted and flipped the steaks. "Welcome to being a kid."

"I can't wait until I'm a grownup and I can do whatever I want." He was going to be the coolest grownup ever. He wouldn't take the fun out of everything.

"Grownups can't do whatever they want either, you know," his dad said with a smirk. "There's still bills to pay, obligations, keeping your son from burning his eyebrows off…"

"So, Mom's the only free one out of all of us." The conversation wasn't much fun anymore.

His dad sighed, seeming to agree with the feeling. "Your mother… She has her own obligations and priorities." He rubbed his finger where a ring used to be. "Come on, let's get the rolls out of the oven. The steaks will be done once we get back. If you're patient, then I'll let you try to get them off of the grill."

Thank god, the waiting was over. Shawn bounced on his toes as he asked, "Can we get ice cream after?"

His dad squinted at him, seeming to x-ray him with his eyes as he searched for something. "...Sure."

Shawn grinned and sprinted towards the door. "Then what are you waiting for? Let's go!"

His dad grumbled something boring about patience again, but Shawn didn't care. They were finally going to eat, and then get ice cream, and then watch fireworks. It was a good day.

(Present day)

"Hey, Shawn, I've got a question to ask," Gus said from his desk.

Shawn looked up from the paper that refused to fold into a flower. "Ok."

"Tomorrow's the Fourth of July and we'll be hanging out during the day," Gus explained. "But Mom and Dad will definitely want me with them when they go out on the boat to watch the fireworks."

Shawn nodded and waited for the question he knew was coming. He'd known he'd be put away while they were gone; it wasn't a big deal. Sometimes Gus just needed to be reassured of that fact.

"Do you want to come with?"

Shawn stared as he processed the question he hadn't known was coming. He should have learned by now to stop trying to predict his insane master. "You want me to?"

"I wouldn't mind," Gus answered, clearly trying to sound casual. Which meant he definitely had opinions, but didn't want Shawn to know them. For some reason. "I can talk to Mom if you want to come, and she'd probably be ok with it. And I'm… 60% sure I could get her to let you hang out without having to do slave stuff. But I know some things are hard for you, so I wanted to check first."

It would be useful if Shawn knew which way his master wanted him to pick. He'd been working hard to act right since he'd had to be calmed down from a nightmare/flashback combo. Gus deserved to be happy.

Luckily, knowing how Gus felt about him being put away, it was an easy guess. "Coming with sounds fun."

"Ok. Does your collar let you swim?"

Shawn winced, fighting back the memory of a hand shoving his head underwater. "Yes…" Gus liked knowing what was going on. "I'm not- Water isn't… good."

"No swimming. Got it." That forced-calm tone was usually used when Gus had figured something out that made him mad, but he didn't want Shawn to know. Which was more understandable.

Who would want to deal with a freaked out slave?

"Since we'll be hanging out all day, I wouldn't mind hearing some ideas of what to do." Gus turned around to work on his homework again. "No pressure, just think about it."

Shawn looked back at the uncooperative paper in his hands; that was the problem with acting how Gus wanted. Sometimes what Gus wanted ran counter to doing what Gus wanted. Most likely he wouldn't say no to what Shawn said, but Shawn might pick something he didn't want to do… It was a good thing he had some time to think through the puzzle.

Shawn flattened the paper again and tried to figure out where he went wrong.

"Hey Mom, can Shawn come with tonight?"

Shawn focused on the bread on his plate to keep from looking up towards the kitchen table. Would she say yes? Did he want her to say yes?

"Why?" Mrs. Guster asked.

"Because I want him to come with."

The words sounded calculated, though they were probably true. They also made the warm feeling in Shawn's chest grow. Which had been happening a lot recently.

Mrs. Guster sighed. "I was really hoping for a nice family night."

"I know," Gus said like it was obvious. "So, can Shawn come with?"

It wasn't an argument. Yet. Shawn still found himself tensing, waiting for raised voices. Arguments weren't good for slaves. It was part of the reason he still hadn't used his information on Mrs. Guster yet; he didn't actually want her angry at him. The fact that it would also hurt Gus was just a sidenote, really.

Mrs. Guster grumbled after a few seconds of silence, "This is all your fault, you know. Stubbornness runs on your side of the family."

"Of course it does, dear," Mr. Guster agreed easily.

"I suppose Shawn can come. If it's what you want."

"It is, thank you."

Shawn finished the bread and studied the crumbs on his plate. Was that really all it took? No yelling, no arguing, no dramatic exits?

"Just one more thing… Can Shawn come with and not do slave things?"

And there it was. Shawn ran his fingers over the edge of his plate, waiting for the argument to start.

"Burton…"

"It's Dad's boat, and he already takes care of it. And we can help with snacks and stuff. Is there anything else you'd want him to do?" Gus asked.

"I… Well- It's just…"

Shawn couldn't help it. He glanced up just to take in Mrs. Guster's flustered face. It wasn't often she was caught off guard.

Gus pushed his advantage. "It's just going to be us on the boat. You won't have to worry about what other people will think."

"He makes a good point," Mr. Guster chimed in.

"Fine…" Mrs. Guster sighed out. "But I want help with the snacks, and he'd better behave properly on the docks."

"Deal." Gus turned towards him, and Shawn looked up automatically, taking in his master's triumphant gin. He gave a small smile back before standing to start the dishes. He didn't have to worry about being hungry, he'd be hanging out with Gus, and he'd been given permission to watch the fireworks.

It was going to be a good day.

Less than an hour later, the front door closed, and Gus visibly relaxed. "Well, that went better than I expected."

Shawn huffed a quiet laugh while standing up from his corner. It had gone better than he'd expected too.

"So, we have the whole house to ourselves. Which means…" Gus walked over to the TV and opened up the storage under it. "We get the TV to ourselves." He pulled out a gray box and two controllers with cords attached. "Do you know how to play video games?"

"Shawn, why waste your time with video games when you can be out in the world learning something useful."

"A slave is a tool. It exists to serve its master."

Shawn watched his master in interest and walked over. "I can honestly say I've never played a video game."

Gus' smile seemed a bit smug as he hooked the box up to the TV. "Then that means I get to teach you something for real. Let's do this."

The next hour was spent with Shawn learning how to control the small kart on the TV as Gus gave out tips and suggestions. Some of them were more useful than others.

"Drift now, drift now… Wait, don't drift that much!"

Luckily, the collar didn't know any video game orders.

Once Shawn got the hang of the controls, Gus plugged in the second controller and challenged him to a race. Shawn didn't need to stress about whether to win or not, he was easily beat every time. But it was still fun. Which was still such a strange feeling.

Gus grinned at the final scoreboard, basking in his victory. "Look at that, you beat half of the CPUs. That's not bad for your first time."

"Thanks." Shawn glared at the character in second place. "Next time… Mario's going down."

"That's the spirit." Gus stood up and unplugged his controller. Shawn followed his lead before standing back and watching as his master did the work of putting everything away. It was getting easier to stay in the headspace Gus liked him in, but he still felt wrong when their roles were reversed like this. Even if it was what Gus wanted.

"Joy and I used to play all the time when she was home," Gus said fondly as he finished. He stood up and suddenly looked less certain of himself. "So… I picked what to do first. If you've thought of anything, then we'll do what you want to do next."

Now it made sense why Gus has told him to think of things yesterday. It was a choice without options; Gus hadn't tried that since their first few days together.

Luckily, Shawn was prepared. Unluckily, the words were still wrong and made his heart race when he forced them out of his mouth. "I'd l-like…to w-walk. It sounds good."

Gus smiled, soothing the undercurrent of dread in Shawn's mind. He'd been good.

"We can do that. Were you thinking of walking around the neighborhood or another hike?"

There were people to see around the neighborhood. He could walk without a leash on a hike. "The neighborhood."

He couldn't say 'sir', he couldn't say 'sir'...

"Sounds good to me," Gus said in his casual voice. "Are you good to go now?"

Was he good? "Yes, I'm good."

"Alright, let's go."

Shawn was never going to take being able to walk around the neighborhood for granted. Sure, it was the same houses every time, but there were so many of them, and there was always something new to see. Chalk covered the sidewalk in front of one house, a ladder had been moved on another, yet another had new yard ornaments. One house had people playing games while food cooked on the grill, another had children running around with sparklers as a slave kept a watchful eye on them. There were so many observations to be made.

"Mind sharing what's on your mind?"

Shawn looked away from a new pick-up truck, his thoughts speeding by. He'd let himself be quiet for too long. Would Gus be interested to know the truck was from a new boyfriend? Would Gus be threatened by him being able to know things? Would he be angry? Shawn needed to be good. How could he be good?

"If that was the real-you… I'd like to see more."

"The truck…" Shawn nodded towards the driveway as his fingernails dug into his palm. This could go badly. "It's new. She's got a new boyfriend."

"Really?" Gus stared at the truck as they passed it. "How do you know she didn't just get a new truck?"

Shawn's hands stayed in fists, but they unclenched slightly. "She's not the type for truck nuts. And she just got a new bumper sticker last week."

"Slaves see more than we think, huh?" Gus asked wryly.

"Yeah, we do," Shawn answered as his hands relaxed in relief. Gus wasn't getting angry, or demanding he explain himself, or telling him slaves weren't supposed to think.

"Do you see anything else?"

Shawn scanned the next few houses. "Blue house is going to have a party later today, the guy at the white house is taking a break from the guests -probably in-laws- and the next house down has been empty for the last week. They're probably on vacation."

"How could you know how long they've been out?" Gus asked as he studied the houses as well.

"Newspapers in the box." Shawn's fingers twitched, wishing for something to hold. Gus was nice; him paying this much attention to Shawn was fine.

Gus' look turned contemplative. "I guess slaves have to pay attention to the small details, huh."

Most slaves weren't raised by a detail-obsessed fanatic or had photographic memory, but Gus wasn't wrong. "The better you can read someone, the better you can make them happy."

"That's so dumb…"

Shawn kept looking around, not too worried about the words. They weren't aimed at him.

"I have an idea," Gus announced after a stretch of silence. "But it's a bit of a walk. Are you ok with that?"

Surprisingly, Shawn wasn't even slightly winded yet. He was getting stronger, just like he'd planned. "Yeah, I'm good to walk for a bit."

Gus nodded and turned at the next street, heading towards the edge of the neighborhood. "Most people are downtown for the parade or at the pier, but there's still a few good places to go that won't be as crowded."

Was he being vague on purpose? Shawn studied him before realizing there wasn't actually any harm in asking. "Are you being vague on purpose?"

Gus grinned. "Maybe. Don't worry, it's good."

Whenever a master was vague, bad things happened. But Shawn actually believed this master when he said it would be good. Which was absolutely ridiculous.

"You know what else is good… showing up your TA in their own class." Gus' walk turned into a swagger as he launched into a story about a wrong equation, a know-it-all TA, and a blonde who'd watched everything with stars in her eyes. Interestingly, he stumbled over his words while describing her before immediately focusing back on the bad math.

Shawn asked a few questions in the right points of the story, but his attention was focused on the teenagers playing basketball a few houses down. He instinctively moved closer to Gus as they passed by, keeping his eyes down. Small kids usually knew slaves were different, but didn't quite know how to treat them. Older kids knew exactly what slaves were and weren't afraid to throw their power around.

Being with his master was probably enough to keep them away, but it wasn't a guarantee. Gus glanced over, but didn't stop his story. "And then he finally admitted he was wrong, and I became the coolest person in the room."

Shawn knew what Gus wanted, but he couldn't make fun of his master. Not with danger around them; not with the unknown ahead of them. He chose the safer option. "Did the blonde say anything?"

Gus sighed before answering. "No… I'm pretty sure she thinks I'm gay."

Shawn glanced at Gus' perfectly tucked button-up shirt. "Is it because you always dress up?"

"Wanting to look nice doesn't mean I bat for the other team."

"Did you try to flirt with her?"

Gus ducked his head self-consciously. "...No."

Shawn smirked and wasn't able to stop himself from asking, "Did she try to flirt with you?"

"Maybe… but I really don't want to talk about it."

Gus could order Shawn to stop talking, but he didn't. What would happen if Shawn kept asking about it anyway? He kept his mouth closed and looked around again as they passed the teenagers without any trouble. Gus was being nice; he deserved to be happy.

They continued to walk, the neighborhood being replaced by a busy street and spread-out stores. Shawn kept up his end of the conversation but wasn't able to come up with new topics as other people started to join them on the sidewalk. The lady with straw-like hair was already drunk, the man walking his dog was going to a baseball game later, the lady in yoga pants had young kids at home. The old man was a war vet, the old lady with him wasn't his wife, and the younger person trailing behind them was giving Gus a massive side-eye for talking with his slave.

Shawn kept an ear out for snippets of conversations as his answers to Gus grew quieter. He had to be careful.

"It's ok," Gus said in his gentle voice. "We're almost there, then we can get away from people again."

He pointed with his free hand, and Shawn looked over, seeing a large parking lot that was lined with booths, kid activities, and food carts. People dressed in red, white, and blue milled around, chatting with each other as they wandered the stalls and entertainment. A few slaves followed their masters, holding bags and half-empty drinks, and an overseer carefully watched several other slaves who were setting up barricades and large trash cans. Gus was right, it wasn't super busy yet, but it was still a lot compared to the handful of people that Shawn was used to being around.

"So, does anything sound good for lunch?"

Shawn looked up sharply at his master before scanning over the lot again. Was he for real? The choices ranged from breakfast food, to tacos, to steak-on-a-stick. There was even something called japadogs nestled in between the hamburger and corndog carts. And he knew Gus well enough by now to know the choice was probably real.

It was a wonderful, overwhelming, dangerous choice. Gus liked knowing what he was thinking, and he had to be sure. "You're asking me… to choose my food?"

"Yes," Gus answered simply as he stepped off the sidewalk and stopped. "You can take your time, and if you pick something I don't like, I'll just get my food at a different truck."

Shawn kept his eyes down, processing the gift being given to him. Gus had given him choices on food before, but it had always been between two options. Which was more than he'd ever had with his previous masters. Now he could practically pick anything he wanted. What did he want?

He could pick something he'd never had before, experience something new. But he'd tasted several new foods as a slave, and they'd all been terrible. These choices didn't come around often, he wanted it to be good. He didn't want something that Mrs. Guster cooked regularly, but that still left several options. An image of a partially cooked steak on a grill popped into his memory and he pushed it back; steak and fish weren't an option either.

He had his choice. Now he just had to convince his mind that it was ok to say it. Gus deserved to hear the words he wanted to hear. "I'd… l-like a ch-cheeseburger please."

Gus smiled, clearly pleased with the answer. "That sounds really good. Are you good to go?"

Someday he was going to ask why his master kept asking that. But not today. "Yes."

Gus nodded and started walking, and Shawn stayed close, all senses on alert for the people around them. They might not be able to make him follow their orders, but they could still be dangerous.

As they drew closer to the lot, patriotic music from the large speakers overtook the sounds of birds and trees. Sweet and savory smells mixed in the air, promising delicious food to anyone walking by. Shawn felt his hope rising as they passed the first stall, and he tried to push it down. He'd become complacent, but that didn't mean he could be blindly optimistic.

He'd had masters promise food before. He'd had that food taken away, or replaced with something bad, or eaten right in front of him. Until he was sinking his teeth into the burger, he had to be prepared to not eat it.

It was going to be so juicy and good….

"You want all the toppings?"

The question broke through Shawn's fantasy, and it took him a second to process what had been asked. "Yes, sir. Thank you."

Why would he ask for less food?

Gus stepped up to order, and a memory chose that moment to press in. A mouth chewing loudly, juice running down a hand, a smirk clearly visible as the man swallowed. "Too bad ya didn't eat your food. You mighta gotten a taste."

Shawn shook his head hard enough to make his leash jingle. Gus was different, he was nice.

Gus was a master. Masters weren't good or bad, they were just masters. Masters couldn't be trusted.

The sounds of the crowd seemed to grow louder around him, people moving and talking and laughing. He'd been too focused on the food, he'd forgotten his rules. Slaves weren't to be seen or heard. He needed to be good to earn the food.

He ducked his head and quieted his breathing; he needed to stay small and out of the way. He couldn't draw attention to himself.

Hands touching, pinching and pulling through the void; spikes digging into his tongue as people asked questions while grinning; voices yelling in the other room, fear rushing through him as the last angry guest left; kids laughing and shoving him to the ground over and over…

"Here, you can hold this."

His master's voice broke through the memories as a food package was held out. Shawn took it automatically, the warmth and smell taunting him with what he couldn't have. He'd been acting wrong. He was a slave, and Gus was a master. He had to remember his place.

"Follow me," Gus ordered.

Shawn fell into step, barely noticing when the sounds of the crowd faded away until only the music was audible. Masters lead; slaves follow. He breathed in, held his breath, and breathed out. His master stopped at a small patch of grass and nodded towards it. "We're going to sit here to eat."

Masters sit; slaves kneel. A slave does whatever its master says. A slave respects its betters. Shawn took another breath and tried to break through the voices that were wrapping around his mind and pulling him to his knees. Gus didn't like him acting like that.

The aluminum bundle in his hands was solid and real, grounding him in the present. He focused on it as he breathed out and sat down, trying to pull away from the thoughts telling him he was acting wrong.

Gus held out one of the water bottles. The thoughts quieted as Shawn breathed in the scent of grease and dreams-come-true coming from the burgers.

"This is for you."

Shawn took the bottle and stared at the food in his hands. Was he being allowed to eat?

"If I'm handing you food, it's for you. I won't take it back."

He let out the breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding and unwrapped the burger.

"A slave is grateful for whatever it's given."

"Thank you, Gus." It wasn't enough. He needed to say more. "I'm sorry I went back into slave-mode."

"Don't be. You're doing good," Gus said without an ounce of impatience in his voice. Shawn looked over in surprise; he'd known he wasn't being disciplined, but surely acting wrong couldn't be considered 'good'.

Gus met the look and held up a finger. "One, you were able to make a choice without locking up. Two," another finger raised up, "you were in a new situation and still able to calm yourself down. Three, you remembered you didn't need permission to eat. I'm proud of you."

Shawn's jaw dropped at the insane words. Masters weren't proud of their slaves. That was a people thing, not a slave thing. But the people-words wrapped around him like a warm blanket as Gus let his fingers drop into a loose fist before holding it out. Shawn barely hesitated before returning the fist bump.

The music changed, carrying a triumphant chorus through the air. "My country 'tis of thee, Sweet land of liberty…"

Gus proved he wasn't entirely insane by picking up his food and taking a bite. Shawn looked down at his own burger in anticipation. Food had waited long enough.

"...of thee I sing. Land where my fathers died…"

Shawn took a bite and his mouth burst in delicious flavor. He didn't even try to stop his moan of delight as he chewed, the savory taste of the perfectly seasoned meat mixing with the tang of tomato and the sweetness of the bun.

"Oh my god," Gus moaned along with him. "This might be the best burger I've ever had."

"Mmhmm," Shawn agreed before taking another heavenly, juicy bite.

"...Land of the pilgrims' pride. From every mountainside…"

Gus looked over with a small smile. "Happy Fourth, Shawn."

"Happy Fourth, Gus."

"... Let freedom ring!"

Music from the front of the boat faded into silence as dark waves lapped against the hull. Shawn stared out into the night, seeing the other boats that were visible, their cabin lights illuminating the pockets of life floating in the vast ocean. They were all drifting, all waiting. A salty breeze ruffled his hair, and he closed his eyes, imagining he was on another boat a lifetime ago.

What would his dad say if he could see him now? The kid who ran his mouth and stared down danger without a flinch was gone. He'd died the day he'd been collared, though he hadn't known it at the time. Shawn had fought hard to survive; he'd accepted the punishments as the price to keep his small voice intact. But his small voice was small for a reason. There'd been so much of that kid that he hadn't been able to save.

Water slapped gently against the boat, voices murmured in the distance, and quiet creaking sounds filled the air. If he listened hard enough he could almost pretend that he heard the plop of a bobber and the smooth ratchet of a fishing rod. His dad would have loved a night like this. It hurt that he'd never have one like it again.

What hurt even more was knowing how disappointed his dad would be in him. All of those lessons, the expectations, the hopes and dreams… All gone in a burst of fire. Now Shawn wasn't even a person, just a tool and a breathing punching bag for whoever owned him.

His dad deserved better.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

Shawn's eyes snapped open, and he realized he'd just been standing around instead of paying attention to his master. "I'm sorry, sir. Do you need anything?"

"Mom and Dad are on the other side of the boat." Gus jerked his head to the front of the boat where two chairs were visible. "You don't have to worry about being formal."

"Sorry." Shawn winced; he probably wasn't supposed to apologize for that. "It's getting pretty dark, it should be about time, right?"

It was too dark to make out Gus' expression, but there was still a weight to his look that said he knew Shawn was deflecting the original question. "Fireworks start at nine, so we've got about five more minutes."

"So, are we going to watch from here?"

"I've got a blanket set up for us to lay on." Gus jerked his thumb over his shoulder even as he continued to look at Shawn. His tone was low and serious as he continued. "I know I'm your master, and that has all sorts of crap tied up with it. But if you ever need to talk about anything… I'm willing to listen. Without orders, without pain, without any of that."

Did Gus realize he could order Shawn to talk about what he wanted? Or was he deliberately making it Shawn's choice? Either way, it didn't matter. The past belonged in the past; the present could hurt plenty on its own. Shawn answered carefully, focusing on the kernel of truth. "Thank you, but I'm ok. I just haven't been out on the ocean for a while."

"I guess people don't take their slaves on boat rides very often, huh. Is this your first time seeing the fireworks since… you know."

"I got to see them once through a window." They'd been far enough away that he hadn't been able to hear them, but the colors bursting through the tree branches had still made a good distraction as he waited to be useful again.

"Hopefully this will be a bit better than a window." Gus moved back to the blanket behind them and sat down. Shawn followed his lead and soon they were both laying on their backs, watching the stars start to peek through the night sky. Gus checked the glowing hands on his watch. "Any time now…"

As if summoned by him, a quiet pop sounded out and a second later sparks of red and blue exploded over them. Shawn watched, mesmerized, as more blasts resonated through his chest and the sky erupted into lights and color. Falling green flares fizzled and popped with sparkles, a perfect circle of purple faded into the night, and white flashed like a camera bulb with the boom of a cannon.

Shawn looked over to see Gus grinning at the show, his hands behind his head. Colors played across his face as explosions filled the sky, and a strange realization jolted through Shawn in time with the next blast. Gus wasn't just a master.

Gus cared, Gus wanted him to be himself, Gus protected him. There wasn't a right word to explain what he was, and the one that was the closest, Gus didn't want him to use. But he could feel it in the warmth of his chest that resonated with the fireworks above them.

Shawn laid back again and mimicked Gus' position, lacing his hands behind his head and letting his elbows fall back. Three booms rang out back-to-back as a circle was filled with light and streamers, and Shawn shifted over so their elbows were touching.

At the next flash of light, he looked over. Small fireworks reflected in Gus' eyes as he looked back, and his grin softened into a content smile.

Shawn smiled back and looked up at the sky, letting himself forget everything else as color and sound danced above them.