Gus blinked blearily, the very air feeling heavy as he waited for the coffee to brew. It had been a long week, but it was finally Saturday, his parents were already gone, and Gus was taking the day off. And he was bringing Shawn with him.

It had been a week of constant overthinking, worrying, fighting, and more overthinking. Something had to give. Today was his something. No worrying about if he'd ever feel normal while around his mother, no wondering if Shawn was ever going to be able to be a friend, no wondering if he was doomed to be overthinking things for the rest of his life.

Gus stared longingly at the coffee maker that promised goodness and happiness with every drip before shaking his head. It was Shawn's day off too, which meant trying to keep things as non-stressful as possible.

And right now, Shawn was just standing in the middle of the kitchen, looking slightly lost without any orders or directions on what to do.

Gus yawned before giving him an easy choice to start the day. "So, what do you think? Eggs or pancakes for breakfast?"

Shawn hesitated, thinking harder than he should have before answering, "I… don't know how to make pancakes."

"Oh, I was figuring I'd make-" Gus cut himself off as a thought occurred to him; Shawn didn't like it when Gus did all of the work. But he did like learning… "Do you want me to teach you?"

Shawn's eyes snapped up in surprise, but he still answered, "... Yes. I'd l-like that."

Gus nodded, not too worried about the stilted conversation. It was still morning, after all, and neither of them had had caffeine yet. Though, Shawn never drank coffee…

How had he gone this long without noticing? "Do you want coffee?"

Shawn froze with a flash of panic, and Gus groaned at himself. He would have known better than to ask that once he'd woken up properly. Of course Shawn wouldn't turn down food, even if he didn't like it. "Sorry, don't answer that. You can have coffee if you want some, or you can tell me it's the most disgusting thing on the planet. I really don't care."

"It's not the most disgusting thing…" Shawn said with a small smile that looked more like a grimace.

What was the worst? Gus immediately pushed the question down, refusing to entertain it. He definitely did not want to know. "You can have water or anything that's in the fridge then. Grab the milk and eggs while you're in there, we'll need them for the pancakes."

The collar blinked green, and Shawn turned to the fridge. Gus quickly corrected himself. "I rescind the order, sorry. The ingredients would be helpful."

He didn't usually slip on orders like that… He needed to wake up. Fast. Gus grabbed his mug and filled it almost to the brim with hot coffee as Shawn rummaged around the fridge. Most collar orders just boiled down to 'move until the chore is done then don't move until your master gives a new order' but it was still messed up just how many things fell into that category.

Shawn placed the ingredients on the counter before finding his cup and pouring some milk in. Gus added a splash of cream into his mug and watched as the two liquids swirled and mixed together. Had Shawn actually wanted milk, or was he just trying to make Gus happy?

Gus took a large gulp of the coffee, welcoming the too-hot-burn down his throat. It was their day off, damnit. He was not going to be frustrated at slave things today. He forced his next sip to be slower, closing his eyes as he breathed in its nutty scent and focused on its rich flavor. He could almost feel his neurons opening up and firing faster as he drank.

He could do this; he just needed to wake up first.

He opened his eyes and saw Shawn watching him with a small smile. The smile dropped when Shawn noticed Gus could see him, and he looked down into his glass of milk with a conflicted expression. Gus watched the silent battle as he took another drink; was he supposed to say something?

"Coffee never worked right for me," Shawn said suddenly. "It's supposed to give you energy, but… Dad said I had too much energy for it to give me more."

"You had energy?" Gus asked in surprise. While Shawn never seemed to act tired, he also didn't give off 'too much energy' vibes. Besides the fidgeting, and his leg bouncing when he was nervous, and preferring to not sit still… Gus' eyebrows went up in realization. "Huh. You're good at hiding it."

"Slaves don't fidget, they do as they're told." Shawn shrugged and took a long drink in the disturbed silence that followed his statement.

"That's messed up," Gus finally said.

"You… keep saying that." Shawn's head cocked to the side curiously. "And you still sound surprised."

"I know," Gus grumbled. He hated being an idiot. Which was exactly how he felt whenever he needed something obvious about his world pointed out to him. He took another large gulp of coffee before setting the mug on the counter. It was their day off, and they were going to make pancakes. "Alright, ready to learn how to make the best breakfast food ever?"

"Donuts?" Shawn asked with a small grin.

"Oh, that's true," Gus realized. "I forgot about cinnamon rolls too."

"Biscuits and gravy…" Shawn added.

"Eggs Benedict."

"Waffles."

"Bacon."

Shawn's grin was stretching across his face now. "Breakfast is good."

"You know that's right." Gus nodded towards the cabinets as he walked over to the flour canister. "We're going to need a bowl and the skillet."

"Yes, sir." Shawn paused before shaking his head with an annoyed look. "Sorry."

"You're ok," Gus said with a shrug as he gathered supplies. Shawn put the flat cooking pan on the stove and brought the bowl over. Gus made room for him and opened the flour container as he explained, "We don't believe in Bisquick in this house, so we're making them the old-fashioned way."

"What did Bisquick ever do to you?" Shawn asked, sounding amused.

"It's… uh…" Gus floundered; he'd never actually thought about it. "Mom doesn't like it, so we don't use it?"

"Yeah, that tracks."

Gus measured out the flour and showed Shawn how to use the sifter before pointing at the baking cabinet. "We're going to need baking powder too."

Shawn tapped out the rest of the flour and went to grab the powder as Gus mixed the wet ingredients together. Gus pulled out the measuring spoons before he took in the container in Shawn's hands. "That's soda, not powder."

Shawn flinched before quickly trading the ingredient out for the right one. "S-Sorry. I always thought they were the same."

"They do close to the same thing, but they're still different. Soda would make the pancakes taste nasty," Gus explained as he held out the teaspoon.

Shawn didn't take it, his eyes staring off into the distance. He shook himself and focused back on Gus as he murmured under his breath, "Well, that explains some things."

Gus' curiosity itched at him, but he didn't ask, content to know that the memory didn't seem to be bad. He talked Shawn through mixing everything together with only a minor flour-cloud mishap. The world slowly cleared of its sleepy haze as the blessed caffeine started to kick in.

Once the griddle was warmed up, Gus brought the bowl over. "Don't worry about the mess on the counter, we'll take care of that later. I'll show you the first batch and then you can try the next one."

He poured out a few small circles and narrated what he was doing. After a minute, he grabbed the spatula and used it to point at the edges of the forming pancakes. "See the bubbles? Once those show up and the edges look dry, we flip them."

He demonstrated by flipping the pancakes on the griddle and smirking in self-satisfaction when they stayed perfectly circular. Damn he was good.

Shawn poured the batter easily when it was his turn, and he didn't need any prompting to know when to flip them. His face was set in concentration as he slid the spatula under the first pancake, but his movements were hesitant as he tried to lift it up and flip it like Gus had done.

The corner of the pancake folded over on itself as the rest plopped back into the pan, splattering batter out on all sides. A thousand thoughts, regrets, and curses flew through Gus' mind as Shawn flinched violently, and they both spoke at the same time.

"I'm sorry, sorry, I can do better-"

"It's ok, it happens all the time-"

Shawn's hands were shaking as he tried to put the spatula under the next pancake, and Gus acted without thinking, putting his hand over Shawn's and pulling it back. Shawn flinched at the touch, his face going blank as he froze, his eyes locked on the pan.

"You're not in trouble," Gus said quietly, keeping his hand in place. "You're learning, which means it's not going to be perfect. It doesn't matter. They'll still get syrup put on them at the end, so they're still pancakes."

"I'm sorry," Shawn said shakily. "I keep messing up, and you deserve better."

"It's not 'messing up' if you're learning. It's… learning." There wasn't any good way to address the second part, but he still had to try. "And quite honestly, I think you're more than I deserve."

Confusion broke through Shawn's blank mask and he glanced up before shaking his head. "I keep making things harder…"

"Maybe I just like a challenge." Gus' nose told him they needed to either flip the other pancakes or resign themselves to a burnt smell all morning. "Try again. Do your best to keep your movements smooth, but it's really a feel thing. You'll get there."

Gus let go of Shawn's hand and watched as he slid the spatula in place. Shawn let out a long breath and his hands steadied before he lifted it and flipped. The edge didn't fold, and much less batter spread out from the edges. Gus smiled proudly. "There you go. Improvement."

"Still not right though." Shawn frowned at the lopsided food.

"Last I checked, I didn't order you to be perfect." It always felt wrong, using their positions like that, but it did make Shawn relax a bit more. Gus grabbed the plate of finished pancakes and held it next to the griddle. "The first one should be good to come out then you can try again."

Ten minutes later, all of the batter was cooked, the dishes were soaking in the sink, and they were both sitting on the floor with plates of delicious, fluffy pancakes that were soaked with butter and syrup.

It wasn't the worst way to start off their day.

"Here's what I was thinking," Gus said as they finished cleaning the kitchen. "Mom and Dad are taking me shopping for college stuff in a few weeks, but they won't be looking for anything for you. So, we'll get your stuff today."

"...My stuff?" Shawn asked with a confused look.

"Yeah, we're basically moving. You'll need stuff for the new place."

"But you already bought clothes for me."

Gus sighed, because wasn't that just typical Shawn-logic. "You need more than clothes. You'll need sheets, a bedspread, a pillow, stuff for the bathroom like towels and totes…"

Shawn's mouth hung open as he stared, and Gus forced himself to slow down. "It's ok; since we're starting early, we don't have to get everything at once. Think you can handle it if we only focus on one thing?"

"Y-Yes," Shawn said, not sounding at all sure.

"We'll get bed stuff, then." Gus turned around and deliberately walked away from Shawn, masking the movement by grabbing the car keys from their hook. Shawn needed space; Gus could give it to him. "I'm going to grab a few things from our room, then we can go if you're up for it."

Shawn answered faintly behind him. "Ok…"

Gus didn't like rushing things, but crowds made Shawn retreat into his slave-mode. It was their day off; Shawn shouldn't have to deal with that. Gus made a face at himself as he trotted up the stairs. If he'd thought of that earlier, he wouldn't have planned on shopping today. But if he canceled now, Shawn would think it was his fault. They'd have to make the best of it.

Gus grabbed the leash from the desk and shoved it in his pocket. Maybe they could buy a trash can while they were out too. A small one to leave by their door just for storing the damn thing in. He looked around the room, mentally taking stock of anything else they might need to buy while they were out.

His eyes landed on Shawn's basket of snacks and he walked over, glancing through it to make sure there was enough of everything until the next grocery trip. A small rectangle of white caught his eye and he found himself reaching for it before he stopped himself. It was Shawn's, not his.

But why would Shawn have a piece of paper in his basket? Was it a note, a drawing, something that just happened to fall in? What kind of things could be in it? Maybe it could help Gus know where Shawn was at, mentally, and if he needed anything.

He wasn't stealing it. Shawn snooped all the time, why couldn't he just look… The edge of the paper scraped his fingertips, and Gus pulled his hand back with a grimace.

It wasn't his.

Shawn had to snoop because literally nothing belonged to him. Technically, even he didn't belong to himself. He deserved his privacy, no matter how much Gus' curiosity burned.

Shawn might not understand boundaries yet, but Gus did. And he drew a new one right then and there; if it was in Shawn's space, then Gus wasn't allowed to touch it. He shoved his hands in his pockets to make them behave and felt the strap of the leash brush against his fingers, an extra reminder of the power he always held.

Gus groaned as the weight of everything pressed down on him. He'd just wanted one day to not worry about anything. But Shawn couldn't take off his collar, and Gus couldn't run from his responsibility. They could have a good day, but not a free day.

Gus took a few calming breaths before walking out of the room in an attempt to escape from the guilt of what he was and what he'd almost done.

The car ride was silent, which was both a blessing and a curse. Shawn was looking out of the window as his leg bounced, and Gus turned down a quieter side street to take a new way to the mall. He normally liked having the same route whenever he was driving, but Shawn didn't get to see the world very often. He deserved to see as much of it as possible.

At least the silence made it easier to think and let emotions settle, but it also added to the growing tension as they drew closer to their destination. Gus hadn't taken Shawn shopping since their first week together, and that trip had gone less than spectacular.

At least it had been a learning experience.

Unfortunately, that meant it was up to him to talk first. Gus took a deep breath and laid out the plan. "Here's what I'm thinking. We go to the mall and get stuff for your bed. If you're up for more, we'll get food and do some more shopping. If you're not up for more, we'll get food and head back home. No harm, no foul."

Shawn opened his mouth before clicking it shut again and looking out of the window. His leg jiggled faster as his hands clasped each other tightly. Gus sighed at the silent freak out and asked, "Is it that I'm buying stuff, the stuff we're buying, or something else that's bothering you?"

Shawn winced before tentatively answering, "All of the above?"

At least he was willing to answer truthfully... Gus thought through each option. "So, me buying things is probably because of slave stuff and previous masters being dicks?"

"Y-Yeah." Shawn nodded before quickly adding, "I know you won't… You're not like that. But I still don't understand why."

The bubble of happiness at Shawn's trust chipped away at the guilt churning in the back of Gus' mind. He made sure to keep his tone even as he asked, "You don't understand why I'm not like that?"

"Why you're buying things." Shawn studied his hands instead of the neighborhood. "Masters buy things for a slave when it's something for the master. They don't just give things to their slave."

Even food and water seemed to be things that weren't 'just given' to slaves. Or at least not slaves like Shawn. Luckily, Gus had mentally prepared for when this conversation would come up again. "Most masters want something from their slaves, right?"

"Yeah… You want me to be me."

Gus nodded, glad that Shawn hadn't needed the prompt. "I want you to be you -the person you. And that means treating you like a person. Including buying you things that you need or want, since you can't do it for yourself."

Shawn's eyebrows drew together and he glanced at Gus. "You're really not pretending, are you."

"... No?" Last Gus checked he wasn't pretending anything. Shawn stayed quiet and after another minute of driving, Gus brought up the next point. "So, we're buying bed sheets, blankets, and a pillow. There's slave things tied up in that, too?"

Shawn snorted, his lips twisting into a dark smirk. "Sort of."

Which wasn't ominous at all. Did he really want to know? Gus sighed and pointed out, "I can't help if I don't know what's going on."

Silence followed his words, and Gus tried to keep his eyes on the road. Had he pushed too fast? Would Shawn answer? Did he want Shawn to answer?

"Slaves don't sleep in beds," Shawn finally answered, each word sounding hand picked.

Gus mulled over the explanation, looking for its meaning. "I've been letting you do all sorts of things slaves don't usually do…" Why would this be the one Shawn pushed back on? "Is it just because you're not used to it? Like when Crocodile Dundee slept on the floor because the bed was too soft?"

Shawn's smirk turned into a more genuine smile, just like Gus had hoped. "That happens in Aliens too."

"Really? I've never actually watched those."

"That makes sense. What with the whole..." Shawn held one of his arms close to his chest before wriggling his hand out, like a parasite was bursting from him. His other hand came up to add the visual of dripping gore, complete with sound effects. "Blehhhh."

Gus raised an eyebrow as the display continued for several seconds too long. "Yes. That's exactly why."

Shawn grinned triumphantly, and Gus let himself bask for a few seconds in the fact that Shawn was that comfortable around him. Unfortunately, Gus did need an answer to the question.

Shawn did best with limited options. Gus started making a mental list before stopping himself. Part of Shawn learning how to set boundaries was learning how to state preferences. Which meant not always having his options laid out for him.

Gus changed what he was going to say. "Here's a few reminders. One, money isn't an issue; the dorm already has the beds, we already have a sleeping bag, any other option is fairly cheap. Two, I'll listen to your preference; you won't get into trouble for choosing something different than me. Three, I want you to be you, nothing more, nothing less." He gave Shawn a few seconds to think about his words before asking, "How would you prefer to sleep in the dorms?"

Shawn's smile fell as his face tightened with indecision. Would he be able to answer? The collar beeped and Shawn winced as he said, "I'd… prefer the floor. Like in your room."

Technically it was a sleeping bag, not the floor, but that probably wasn't worth arguing about. Gus nodded as he pulled into the mall parking lot. "Ok, we can do that. I still think we should get you a pillow, and maybe just another sleeping bag so we don't have to move them whenever we go home. Are you up for shopping for those now?"

Shawn had relaxed when Gus had agreed with his preference, though his eyes stayed down as he answered, "Yeah, I can do that."

Gus parked the car, but didn't move to get out. There was still a third thing to address. "So, you said there was something else bothering you too. You're allowed to say you don't want to talk about it, but if you did, now would be the time."

He waited out the silence, not wanting to push anything. Shawn fidgeted with a few wrinkles in his jeans before finally letting out a sigh. "If your parents let me go with you to college." Gus mentally changed it to 'when' Shawn came with. "Wh-what happens with your roommate? It's their room too. And you won't always be there…"

Gus took a second to imagine the world through Shawn's eyes. Not having any power or rights, and being alone in a room with a new person he knew absolutely nothing about. It sounded terrifying.

Luckily, Gus' parents thought he was weak and fragile and needed mollycoddling. He'd never been happier for that in his life. "Good news, we won't have a roommate. Mom and Dad paid so I could have a room to myself. Jokes on them, I bought myself a roommate instead."

He smiled at Shawn, and Shawn tentatively looked up and smiled back. After a few seconds, Gus nodded to the door. "Let's get you ready for college."

Gus' smile fell as he climbed out of the car. After all of that talk of wanting Shawn to be a person… and Gus had to put a fucking leash on him.

He hated the world sometimes.

The mall shrunk in the rearview mirror as Gus drove towards a cluster of quaint houses. The silence in the car was different than earlier, warmer and more comfortable.

The shopping had gone surprisingly smooth. Shawn, predictably, had chosen the cheapest options for everything, but he'd at least been able to pick the color of his sleeping bag. He'd chosen the darkest option there, but he'd also made the choice without any prompting.

Gus smiled as he glanced at the dark green roll sitting in the back seat. It reminded him of the first time Shawn had ever stated an opinion, right before he'd chosen his dark green dress shirt.

Of course, someone had noticed Shawn acting differently and had tried to butt in. Gus had been worried that the confrontation would send Shawn back into slave-mode, but as soon as the man had stalked away in a huff, Shawn had quietly commented, "His hair looked like a skunk crawled up and died there…"

He hadn't been wrong, either. The man's greying pattern really had been unfortunate. The conversation afterwards had carried them through the checkout as Gus had complained about the man smelling like a skunk too. He'd quickly corrected himself with a lecture on how skunks only smelled when they used their scent glands, and really they were quite clean animals.

Gus looked away from the road to check on Shawn, seeing how he was watching the outside while his fingers absently braided a few stretchy strands on his new Koosh ball.

They'd only made one extra stop in the mall. Gus hadn't wanted to risk them forgetting or losing the nightlight when they went between places, so they'd gone to the novelty shop and bought another one. This time, Shawn had been able to look around without being freaked out, and his stash of fidget toys had grown.

"C-Can I ask you a question?" Shawn asked, breaking the silence.

Gus quickly thought back; had Shawn ever asked that before? "Of course. What's up?"

Shawn's eyes dropped to the toy in his hands. "Your dad… He said you had asthma. Do you have to do stuff for it?"

That was so not a question Gus had expected. "Not really... I keep an inhaler in my bag, but I don't get attacks very often."

"If you do, what can I do to help?"

The question suddenly made more sense; they'd just been shopping for when they'd be living on their own, afterall. "I don't have too many triggers, just sometimes if it's too dusty or if I'm panicking." Gus winced; he had no right to talk about panic with Shawn in the car. He quickly moved on. "You shouldn't have to do anything, just bring me my bag. The inhaler is in the front left pocket."

"And y-you'll be ok?" Shawn's fingers clenched, crushing the strands of the ball.

"Yeah, I'll be ok," Gus reassured him. "I'll just be a bit tired for the rest of the day."

"Ok." Shawn let out a breath as his hand relaxed.

Gus chewed his lip as he turned down another random street. He'd probably never get a better opening for a question that he'd been wondering since day one. "My turn. You don't have to tell me any specifics, but I know the scar on your chest is usually from open-heart surgery. Do you need to do anything with that?"

Shawn's shoulders curled in, but his voice stayed light as he answered, "Nah. I had a hole in my heart when I was a kid. Docs said the fix healed up good as new." He smirked in dark humor. "Pretty sure the collar is more hazardous to my health than that."

Gus sighed at their shitty world. He'd already thought of that, and looked up the stats. It was concerning how the increased risk of heart attacks in slaves was just waved away with the logic, 'If they behaved, they wouldn't be shocked.'

They continued to drive, and Gus kept glancing over at Shawn's collar. He'd managed to keep his curiosity at bay, but having one question answered just made the other ones louder. He set his jaw and locked his eyes back on the road; it wasn't his to ask.

Shawn huffed a quiet laugh. "You can ask, you know."

"Ask what?" Gus asked, attempting an innocent tone and failing miserably.

"You've got your 'I'm trying to not ask a question' look on," Shawn answered, his eyes locking on a street sign as it passed them.

"This is just my regular look..." After exactly seven seconds of pointed silence, Gus cracked. "Ok, but don't answer if you don't want to. I've always wondered what happened for you to be collared."

Shawn seemed to have expected the question. "My dad died on the job. There wasn't anyone else around to take me, so I went into foster care. Three strikes later, and I proved this was the only way I'd be a 'productive member of society'."

"Jesus." It wasn't exactly a surprise, given what he'd read in Shawn's papers. Everyone knew where most kids in foster care ended up. But it was still jarring hearing the flat, calm way Shawn said it. Like it was expected and ok. "I'm sorry to hear about your dad."

Shawn hadn't mentioned a mother, and Gus knew better than to ask. He'd already asked enough.

"Thanks." Shawn's fingers worried at his fidget toy as his eyes followed another road sign. "I… actually grew up around here."

Gus immediately had to fight the urge to stare at every house they passed, trying to imagine a small-Shawn playing in the front yard. "Do you…" He couldn't phrase it like that. "If you want me to go anywhere, all you need to do is ask."

Shawn nodded. "Ok. Did you know the man who played the Wizard of Oz also played the doorman and the carriage driver?"

"Yes, I did," Gus said, accepting the distraction as a request to change topics. "I figured it was probably cheaper that way."

"Or," Shawn countered as he started braiding the stretchy strands again, "he was spying on everyone so he could pretend to be magic later on."

Gus stopped at a convenient stop sign and stared into the distance in realization. "Dude, that's totally what he was doing! I'd always wondered how he knew all of those things about the four of them."

Shawn smirked, visibly relaxing as the car started moving again. "An icon for con artists everywhere."

On a whim, Gus turned down the next road, heading for a more familiar area. Their conversation meandered just as much as the car did as they weaved their way through the streets. They both grew quiet as Gus pulled into a school parking lot and stopped the car.

"Why are we here?" Shawn asked, looking around curiously.

"Because it's where I went to school." Gus acknowledged Shawn's surprised look with a nod. "I guess we didn't grow up all that far apart from each other."

Shawn looked around with more interest. "But this is halfway across town from your place."

"Yeah, but it's a private school. Mom and Dad knew I was smart and thought this was the better place for me." Gus shrugged, unsure if they'd actually been right. He pointed to a shady corner that was out of sight of the door. "That's where Jimmy always took my lunch money." He pointed at a large gouge on the side of the school sign. "That's where someone –not me– decided to get rid of their homework with a firework." He pointed to the other side of the parking lot. "And that's where I was kissed for the first time. And where she smacked me in the face with her backpack a week later."

Shawn tilted his head to the side in contemplation. "Did you deserve it?"

"Eh… I kept calling her a cook."

Shawn snickered. "Why?"

"I don't know." He really didn't. "It was the best insult I could come up with."

"What was this, third grade?"

Gus' face warmed as he answered sheepishly, "Seventh."

Shawn's snickers turned into a quiet laugh. "Your insult game needs work."

"Well, she was clearly insulted. That bruise lasted a couple of weeks…"

Shawn studied him before looking back at the school. "You were bullied?"

"Not by her, but yeah." A familiar resentment burned in Gus' chest, but it was muted compared to how it had been a few years ago.

"But it's a private school…"

That's what his parents had thought too. "That just means the parents can pay. Not that the kids are any better."

"Huh." Shawn glanced over again before asking, "You know those shoes with pockets? The KangaRoos?"

Even by Shawn's standards, that was a weird topic change. "...Yeah?"

"It was where I kept my actual lunch money."

Gus stared at him, trying to process what was going on. Shawn was talking about his past as a free person and he'd had those cool pocket shoes?!

Shawn shrugged at the look. "You pretend like your parents are having a hard time, have a couple of bucks in your pocket for the bully to find, then have the rest hidden away."

Shawn had been bullied too? Gus' mouth moved without thinking. "I used my math book." A look of surprise flitted across Shawn's face before he started to grin. Gus felt his answering grin grow as he elaborated, "I'm pretty sure he was allergic to textbooks, so I kept most of my lunch money in them."

"Smart." Shawn paused for an amused second before adding, "And smart."

"I try." Gus started the car again and drove away from the school. "Do you like smoothies?"

Shawn only thought for a second before answering, "I used to."

"Want to get some?"

"Yes."

The smoothies had been a good idea. Not only was Gus' mango surprise absolutely delicious, but Shawn's whole being seemed to be glowing in contentment as he sipped his tropical thunder and watched the neighborhood pass by. As Gus pulled back into their garage, he realized that Shawn had been looking out of the window far more than he'd been keeping his head down like a good slave. They were definitely making progress.

"So, what do you think? Movie or game?" Gus asked as they brought their purchases into the house.

"A game sounds good." Shawn looked around intently, even though they were the last ones to leave the house.

Gus nodded as he turned towards the stairs before making a face at himself. He was trying to teach Shawn about preferences, which meant training himself out of always giving closed choices. He could at least make it a little better. His smoothie cup caught his eye and he asked, "Are there any games you used to like playing?"

If Shawn didn't want to answer, he could just default to chess. Except Shawn wasn't answering. Gus looked back to see Shawn locked in an internal debate, his eyes moving rapidly as his face stayed carefully blank.

"You don't have to answer that," Gus said quickly before the collar could give any warnings.

Shawn looked up and met his eyes, holding the gaze for several seconds before he finally made his decision. "I used to play poker."

"Wait, what?" Shawn was really good at catching him off-guard.

Shawn's hand twisted around the plastic bags hanging from his wrist. "When I was a kid. I'd play poker. I was pretty good."

"Weren't you like twelve when you were sold?"

"Thirteen," Shawn corrected, almost grumpily.

Shawn had learned how to beat a lie detector as a kid. He read people better than any conman. And he'd been 'pretty good' at poker as a thirteen-year-old… Who had he been before he'd been collared? A gangster's son?

Gus said the only thing he could think of. "I don't know how to play poker."

Shawn's shoulders relaxed and his blank face broke with a look of relief. "I could teach you."

"I'd like that." Gus stared at his confusing slave for another few seconds before turning back around towards his room.

It turned out, Shawn hadn't been lying. He was good at poker. He was good at teaching it too. Even if it was slow going as he found ways to explain without actually telling Gus to do something.

They only played three hands before Gus cut them off. Shawn had done good, but he was clearly stressed from being put in the leader-role and from winning all three games. They finished out the afternoon with a low-key movie and snacks, both of them keeping an easy commentary going throughout.

It had been a good day.