Shawn let his mind wander as he cleaned the kitchen. Altogether, the day wasn't going too bad. He'd had time to learn where things went in the house before anyone expected him to put them away, he'd been allowed to eat breakfast and lunch, and so far no one seemed to want to smack him around.

Gus' parents seemed to understand how slaves worked, at least, and the familiarity was almost comforting after being so wrongfooted all of yesterday. Honestly, it was Gus that was causing the most trouble. Even if it was nice to be given two full meals during the day, and to be called 'Shawn' instead of 'slave', and to have shoes when he was working in the garage. Those weren't worth having his other owners frustrated at him.

Shawn was perfectly capable of frustrating his owners all on his own.

His collar chose that moment to beep at him in reminder that he was supposed to be moving and cleaning instead of just staring off into space as he thought. He shook his head at himself and tried to stay focused on the mindless task of scrubbing soap scum out of the divots of the sink. He'd been working hard to keep himself on task all day; keeping his small voice smothered as he let himself fall into the headspace of only doing what he was told. It wasn't a headspace he was usually able to stay in for long, but he needed to make a good first impression.

A sigh was let out behind him along with the sound of a book being closed, and Shawn tensed as he braced for another argument about him. It was stressful having an owner watch him while he worked; it was doubly so when he had multiple owners in the room who wanted different things from him. There were too many ways he could make one or both of them upset.

Gus surprised him though, like he seemed to be doing constantly. Instead of arguing or fighting, he spoke in a clearly-forced calm voice. "I've finished my work for the chapter tomorrow. Shawn's almost done with the sink. I told him we could rent a movie later today. Once he's done, may we be excused?"

Shawn's hands stilled of their own accord as he listened for Mrs. Guster's response.

Her voice was just as intentionally calm as she answered, "I wanted him to clean the oven, but it's probably still too warm from lunch. I expect you to leave him home tomorrow when you go to school, so he can continue to work."

"Fine," Gus gritted out, icy anger breaking through the calm.

Electricity jolted through Shawn's body and he jumped at the reminder before getting back to work. He'd been good enough through the day to only need a few automatic corrections, and the shock intensity wasn't too high yet. He intended to keep it that way.

Gus had been right; the sink was almost done. As Shawn wiped down the last corner, he found himself looking forward to the rest of the day. It was a novel feeling.

Most of his previous owners hadn't taken him out of the house for anything that wasn't an errand directly affecting him. It had been a while since he'd been able to see a new place without having to be worried about why they were there or how many extra rules he'd have to follow. Maybe the walk would even help him figure out what Gus wanted from him.

He put the washcloth in its spot and stood off to the side at attention, his hands behind his back and his head bowed. The collar recognized the position of his cuffs and didn't prompt him to keep moving. He also wouldn't be able to move from attention until an owner allowed it.

"Ok, he's done. Can we go?" Gus asked.

"Wait." Mrs. Guster walked up to the sink and inspected it before crossing her arms and begrudgingly admitting, "I suppose it's adequate. You can be done."

Shawn ducked his head in acknowledgement and only debated for a second before saying, "Thank you, ma'am."

She seemed like the kind of person who liked to be reminded she was important instead of the kind of person who preferred he was invisible. His instincts were proven correct when she seemed to puff up as he walked past her.

Gus didn't say anything else, his lips as tight as his shoulders when he turned to walk out of the room. Shawn followed, maintaining the proper distance as he was led to his next destination. Unease started churning in his stomach as Gus walked straight to the door without stopping or telling Shawn to get his leash.

He wasn't allowed to correct his master, but he wasn't showing any signs of remembering on his own. Gus opened the door and Shawn swallowed against his suddenly dry throat, feeling his collar shift at the movement. It could be a test, it could be a legitimate mistake, it could end badly no matter what he did.

Gus stood on the porch, looking expectantly at him, and Shawn knew he had to say something. "S-sir, I can't go out. I… Slaves need to be leashed."

A strange look crossed Gus' face and he came back inside. "Right. I knew that, I just… One second. I'll go get that. Damnit, and I forgot again… I'll get you some shoes too, I hope we're the same size."

He ran up the stairs, leaving Shawn standing in the middle of the entryway, unsure of what he was supposed to do. He fell back onto his training, fully aware of Mr. Guster watching him as he moved to the wall and stood at attention. His hands twitched behind his back until the eyes on him moved back to watching the news.

"...made you offer a contract instead of just ordering him?" A man was asking from the TV.

A cheerful voice answered, "Well, Tom, while you can order a slave to act, you can't make them give it heart. Our boy had talent, but he needed that extra incentive to really give it his all…"

"Ok, I got it," Gus said as he jogged back down the stairs. "Uh… Dumb question, but do you know how to tie shoelaces?"

Shawn fought to keep his smirk hidden as he answered, "Yes, sir."

Gus sighed and handed over a pair of tennis shoes and socks. "Here, put these on, then we can go."

Shawn took the shoes and sat down to pull them on. They were a bit tight, and they pushed his ankle cuffs up so they dug into his skin, but it was better than walking on the pavement barefoot.

The news changed, droning on about a dead woman who'd been killed with a strange symbol drawn on her forehead. Shawn wished he could see the screen; it sounded interesting.

"So, you're taking him for a walk?" Mr. Guster asked.

"We're going down to Blockbusters."

Gus seemed to be waiting for a fight, but his father just said, "That's a ways away; make sure you're back by dinner."

"We will."

Shawn stood back up, wiggling his toes experimentally as he lifted his chin to make his collar easier to access. Gus' eyebrows tightened as he clipped the leash on and turned back to the door. "Ok, let's try this again…"

They left the house without any trouble, and the first few minutes of the walk were quiet as Shawn tried to keep from tripping over his own feet. It wasn't his first time wearing shoes since becoming a slave, but it wasn't a very common occurrence.

The sun warmed his back as they continued to walk, and his blood seemed to sing in his veins at being surrounded by new sights and sounds. He looked up as often as he dared, taking everything in. The leash attached to his neck could almost be forgotten as he breathed in the warm air and studied the different yards.

The voice in the back of his mind clamored at him, insisting that he was free, that he should run and climb to bleed off the energy that always seemed to be surging just under his skin. He shoved the urge back down and kept himself in his spot behind his master. He was being allowed to walk outside; he had to stay good.

They went a few blocks further before Gus stopped walking and turned towards Shawn. "I need to apologize. I shouldn't have talked about you like that when Mom and I were arguing."

Shawn looked up in surprise. "Why?"

"Wh- because I talked about you like you were a thing!" Gus said, as though it was the most obvious reason in the world.

"I'm a slave," Shawn said slowly. Maybe this would be the moment Gus finally figured things out. "Most people think I'm a thing."

Gus snapped back, "Well, I don't want to be 'most people'."

Shawn flinched; that tone always meant pain. Gus groaned and said more softly, "See, that's what I'm talking about. I don't want you to have to be afraid of me like that, but then I go and act like everyone else the second I get pissed."

Shawn hesitated before saying anything. Technically he'd be disagreeing with his master, but at the same time it might make his master happier. A slave was supposed to make its master happy. "Most people wouldn't let me wear shoes. Or call me by my name. Or-" or throw away the gag set just so he could sleep easier. "Or let me eat the same food as them." Shawn shrugged and studied the cracks in the sidewalk between their feet.

Gus didn't sound much happier when he answered, "Yeah, well, I still want to do better. Come on, Dad was right; it is a bit of a walk. Let me know if you need a break."

Shawn studied Gus' back after he'd turned back around. Why was his master so strange? What was his game?

"Ok, so, here's another dumb question for you," Gus called back after several more blocks of silence.

Shawn jolted at having been caught staring at a yard gnome before he realized what Gus had actually said. "What?"

"Do you have to walk back there? Like, is that some sort of rule I don't know, or is it just what people expect and there's actually no reason for it."

"Most masters prefer their slaves to be out of the way," Shawn answered.

"So it's not an actual rule." Gus rubbed the back of his neck. "Would you… if you're comfortable with it, you could walk next to me instead. It'd be easier to talk to you."

It wasn't phrased like an order, but it was clear what his master wanted him to do. Which was a shame; it would be harder to sneak looks around now. Shawn lengthened his stride to move closer, but stayed half a step behind his master. He wasn't ready for Gus to stop being nice; he could prove he knew his place.

Gus shrugged and seemed to take the change as a win as he asked his next question. "I know why you were being more careful around my parents and still using 'sir', but are you going to have to do that when we're out in public too?"

"I'll do whatever you tell me…" Shawn just barely cut himself off before adding the 'sir'.

"Yeah, I know that," Gus said with an eye roll. "I meant… Like when you've been bullied in class, sometimes it's easier to just keep your head down instead of trying to fight back all of the time."

He spoke with a familiarity that had Shawn immediately adding 'nerd who'd been bullied' to his growing list of Gus-traits.

"I just wanted to know if it's easier -less stressful- if I acted like a regular slave owner when we were out, or if it's ok to keep treating you… better, I guess."

It seemed to be important to Gus. But why? "Most people don't care how you treat your stuff, as long as it doesn't affect them." It wasn't what his master had asked, but Shawn found himself adding, "They might assume you can't control your stuff if I act too differently, though."

Gus nodded as he processed the information, and Shawn waited for the next question. It was strange having a conversation like this, where it felt like what he said mattered. It was like being able to eat a food he'd been craving for years. It was dangerous; he couldn't get used to it. But it was nice.

"So, people don't care if I carry a bookbag around on one or both shoulders, but they'd care if the bookbag started talking back?" Gus asked.

Shawn couldn't help but smirk at the analogy. "Yeah, something like that."

"I'd like… it's not an order, but I prefer it when you don't call me 'sir'." Gus' voice sounded strange and Shawn glanced up to see an uncomfortable, frustrated look on his face. "I know you're going to do it when you think you have to be more… slave-like, I just wanted to let you know that it's good when you don't. I won't ever get mad about that."

Shawn nodded hesitantly, not sure if he was expected to say something. He'd had masters who wanted to be called something different than the standard addresses, but he'd never had one who didn't want anything. It wasn't a bad order to follow, though.

Gus didn't seem to expect an answer as he kept talking. "I guess it'd probably be good to let you know what to expect over the summer. Tuesdays and Thursdays are busy days for me, I have school during the day and tap class at night." He paused like he was waiting for a reaction before continuing. "I was thinking about taking you with me, but… well, you heard Mom. I don't like leaving you alone with them," he let out a long-suffering sigh, "but I hate to admit they have a point. They'd have their own slave if it wasn't for me buying you."

"They're my owners," Shawn said, hoping to make his master happier. "I'll do what they tell me."

"That's not the point," Gus snapped out. He took a breath before speaking more calmly. "I'm not worried about you doing what they say, I'm worried about how they treat you. I don't want to come home and find out they never let you eat." He stopped and moved to stand right in front of Shawn. "I'm trying to not give you many orders so you don't have to worry about your collar. But this one is important. Tell me if they hurt you."

Shawn chanced looking up and meeting Gus' eyes. Most masters would beat him for the insubordination, but Gus seemed to like it. "I will."

Gus studied him for a second before nodding decisively. He turned to keep walking. "Anyway, Dad works Tuesdays through Saturdays, Mom stays at home unless she's doing errands or social stuff, so you'll be dealing with her the most if I'm not around."

If it had been important to earn Mrs. Guster's approval before, it was doubly important now.

"I'm taking three summer classes, so there's a lot of homework and stuff involved in that. You won't have to worry about my parents once we get to college this fall. We just have to get through the next few months…"

Shawn nearly tripped over his shoes in surprise, and he tried to recover quickly so his master wouldn't notice. He'd never been a slave outside of a house before. He hadn't given it much thought, but it did make sense that he'd go with his master.

"Sorry, I know those probably don't fit you right," Gus said while looking down at Shawn's feet. "You need more clothes, sooner rather than later. I'll see if I can talk Mom into letting us use her car on Wednesday to go shopping."

"I don't need anything," Shawn said quickly, remembering how he'd paid for the last thing a master had bought him. "I can do better about not getting my clothes dirty, and I'm used to working barefoot."

"I told you I was going to take care of you," Gus said stubbornly. "That means giving you more than two pairs of clothes. Ugh, we need to figure out bathroom stuff too." Shawn tried to keep his growing panic from being visible. Slaves didn't get new things. Not unless it was for their master's benefit. What did his master want?

Gus eyed him up. "Sorry, I guess if it's overwhelming for me, then it's definitely overwhelming for you. We can worry about that stuff later."

Memories pressed in on Shawn, keeping him from answering. A strap fell over his eyes as a voice whispered in his ear, the last thing he would hear for days. "Maybe this will teach you to be grateful."

"Uh, hey. Are you ok?"

"Yes, master," Shawn answered the question automatically. He could talk, he could see, he wasn't there anymore.

"Yeah, you're not ok," his master sighed out. "It's alright, we'll just walk for a bit."

He was being taken for a walk, he was being given food, he was being allowed to see. He needed to keep his master happy, so he didn't turn mean like his last master. Shawn couldn't survive that again; he just had to be good.

Being good would be a lot easier if he actually knew what his master wanted.

Surprisingly, Gus kept his word and stayed quiet for the rest of the walk to the video store. The silence helped calm Shawn's panic, and he focused on the world around him to keep himself in the present.

The woman walking her dog across the street was single and worked nights. The car that sped by them had been in three different accidents and had expired plates. The building they were passing was trying to keep graffiti artists at bay, which was clearly just encouraging even more vandalism. One of the city slaves scrubbing at the paint met Shawn's eyes before they both looked away; slaves were only allowed to interact if their masters allowed it.

They continued walking, and Shawn breathed harder as sweat dripped down his side. He wasn't out of shape, but he didn't go for long walks often and it was starting to show. He tried to keep the signs of his exertion to himself. At best a master would ignore it; at worst a master would use it against him.

On the positive side, his restless energy was the quietest it had been in almost a year.

"Ok, we're here," Gus announced after they crossed a busy street. "That was… farther away than I remembered. Sorry."

Gus opened the door and stood to the side, and Shawn stared, trying to comprehend what he was seeing. His master was holding the door open. For him.

A strange look passed over Gus' face as he seemed to realize the same thing before he set his jaw and widened his stance, making it clear that he wasn't planning on moving until Shawn had gone through first. Shawn stared at him for another second before doing as his master wanted and walking into the store.

His master wasn't just strange; his master made no sense.

Gus thankfully took the lead again once they were inside, and Shawn fell back to his usual spot two steps behind him. He tried to distract himself from the world tilting on its axis by looking around, quickly taking in the shelves of cases and the large posters for the latest movies.

"Welcome to Blockbusters, let me know if you need help finding anything," a bored voice called out from the check-out.

Gus waved in acknowledgement before going to the back wall to look for the newer DVDs. A large 'Coming Soon' poster over the shelves displayed a giant spaceship over the words 'Independence Day'. Another poster next to it showed a shadowy Tom Cruise with the title 'Mission Impossible'. Shawn found himself studying the second poster, trying to see if there was any indication on the advertisement that the main star of the movie was a slave.

He knew the story, everyone did. A master knew his slave had some acting experience and had decided to try to make some money off of him. He hadn't expected his slave to do so well that an agency would buy him before offering a work-for-freedom contract to the newly-dubbed Cruise. According to the news snippets, the new movie was doing even better than expected and Cruise was probably going to earn his freedom any day.

The lucky bastard.

"Ah, there it is," Gus muttered to himself as he pulled a DVD from the shelf. He looked at the Batman logo with a contemplative look before asking Shawn, "What other Kilmer movies do you like?"

His master had a weird way of asking things, but at least it was easy to come up with good movie recommendations. "Top Gun is a classic, and The Man who Broke 1,000 Chains is amazing." Which probably wasn't something a slave should say. Shawn quickly added, "And you can't go wrong with Real Genius."

Gus nodded in agreement and went down an aisle of older movies, scanning the titles before pulling out Top Gun. He grabbed a couple of other classics before bringing the stack of boxes to the check-out line. Shawn followed along behind him, silently applauding the movie choices. Though, he did have to wonder why Gus wasn't making his slave carry them.

Gus stopped right before the counter and contemplated the snacks on display before asking, "Funyons or Combos?"

Shawn's mind went blank as he tried to understand the question; did Gus want him to guess which he liked? The collar beeped and Shawn took the 50/50 shot. "Funyons, sir."

He saw Gus frown out of the corner of his vision and he cringed back; he must have picked wrong. But Gus didn't correct him or shock him, he just grabbed the bag of Funyons and added it to the pile before dropping it in front of the cashier.

The cashier checked out the movies with a bored look, clearly not paid enough to care about how a master was interacting with his slave. "Thank you for shopping with us, we hope to see you again."

"Thanks," Gus replied as he took the offered bag. Shawn waited for it to be handed back to him, but Gus just hung it off of his wrist as he walked to the door.

Shawn took a gamble once they were outside and closed the distance between him and his master so he was almost walking next to him. It was subtle, but Gus' relaxed shoulders told him he'd made the right call. Gaining courage by his success, Shawn spoke up without any prompting. "I can carry that for you."

He'd made a mistake in the store; he needed to show he could still be good.

Gus' face was interesting to watch as it flicked through several expressions before he hesitantly held out the bag. "I'd appreciate that. Thanks."

"You're welcome." Being thanked was strange, too. But it wasn't bad. Shawn took the bag, feeling oddly comforted by having something to do.

A voice from the past sneered through his memory, "The only way slaves can be happy is by making their masters happy."

Shawn shook it away quickly and focused on keeping pace with Gus without straying too far from his spot. His master was being nice, that was all he needed to worry about. Happiness was for people, not slaves.

As they walked, Gus opened his mouth several times, as though wanting to say something before stopping himself. He finally sighed, sounding defeated as he waved to the sky and said, "Nice weather we're having, huh."

Shawn felt his lips twitch up at his master trying to make small talk with him. "Yeah, it is. That's Santa Barbara for you."

"Have you-" Gus winced before pressing on, "Have you always lived here?"

"Yes." Shawn chewed his lip and glanced over. Gus seemed to like when he talked and kept conversations going. It was weird, but it was what he wanted. "What about you?"

Gus perked up and seemed to relax further. "We've lived here my whole life. I'm pretty sure Mom and Dad expect me and Joy to buy the houses next to them once we graduate. Assuming Mr. Fuller ever dies…" At Shawn's questioning glance, Gus explained, "Our neighbor. He's mean, he's old as sin, and he's apparently immortal. Dad can't stand him."

Shawn made a mental note that he'd probably forget, reminding himself to avoid whichever neighbor looked old and mean. Gus seemed happier, so Shawn kept up his momentum. "Do you think you'll actually stay?"

He didn't really care, but a happy master was nicer. That was all it was, keeping his master happy.

"I don't know. I guess it depends on where I find a job." Gus' voice turned grumpier. "I'm sure as hell not staying at home, though."

There weren't any safe conversation points to go from there. Shawn kept himself quiet as a stitch started to grow in his side.

Gus continued to find small conversation topics, and Shawn tried to keep up with them without letting his words run away. The further they walked, the harder it was to keep his exhaustion from showing. Gus finally noticed something was wrong when Shawn had to take a breath in the middle of a sentence.

Gus immediately stopped and Shawn barely managed to keep himself from stepping past him. "Crap, I thought I told you to let me know if you needed a break!"

Shawn flinched at the reprimand; he was right, he had given that order. But slaves couldn't tell their masters what to do; it was an order that didn't make sense.

It had been a trap, and now his master was going to stop being nice, and it was going to be just like last time, and…

Gus' voice rose in both pitch and volume. "Oh, come on, I'm not going to…"

His master trailed off and Shawn braced himself for the hit he knew was coming. A tense silence fell before Gus let out a loud groan and suddenly dropped down.

Shawn looked over in surprise, finding himself in the disorienting position of standing over his master. His master who had decided to sit down in a random person's yard. Gus met his look and jerked his head to the side, indicating the ground next to him. Shawn glanced at the grass, looking for the trap, before giving into his basic instincts telling him to stop thinking and follow the unspoken order.

Why wasn't he being hurt yet?

He sat gingerly on the grass as yet another disconcerting thought occurred to him; Gus had yet to direct him with his leash. The only owner who had taken him out for walks used to love tugging on the leash in one direction or the next. Other times he'd had a leash on, he'd practically been dragged around by it. But Gus kept leaving slack for him to move and was directing him with looks and words instead.

"We'll sit for a few minutes so you can catch your breath," his master said, his voice swirling in the vortex of Shawn's confusion. It didn't make sense. It needed to make sense or Shawn didn't know what to do.

Shawn closed his eyes and focused on his breathing; his master wanted him to catch his breath. He could do that. He took in the smells around him: dirt, flowers, exhaust, and salt. They were different from the smells of being indoors, of being trapped. He took in their uniqueness and let it ground him.

He'd broken an order. He should be hurting, so why wasn't he? Why was Gus still pretending to be nice? What was his game, what did he want?

Shawn glanced over and did a double-take when he saw Gus with his own eyes closed as he took deep, even breaths. Like he was trying to calm himself down from freaking out.

What had set him off this time?

Gus let out a long breath before asking, "Think you can get home alright? I'll make sure my parents don't make you get back to work right away."

He wasn't being punished…

"Yes…" Shawn answered. At least he knew some of the rules. He wasn't supposed to call Gus 'sir', except sometimes it was ok to call him 'sir'. He was supposed to talk, but he couldn't talk too much or his mouth would get ahead of him. He wasn't supposed to be treated like a regular slave, except when he was.

The rules didn't make any more sense than his master did.

Shawn stayed lost in his thoughts as he walked behind Gus, the plastic bag still clutched in his hand. The last fifteen minutes of their journey passed in silence.

By the time they'd reached Gus' house, Shawn's feet were sore, his welts stung from the sweat running down his back, and his mind ached as he tried to make sense of his new world. His thoughts froze as they were met by a terrifying sight when they entered the house.

Gus' parents were both sitting on the couch, their faces a united front as they stared Gus down. Mr. Guster spoke up first. "Burton, we need to talk."