A/N: Huge thank you to my best friend CarbineFox for always being a sounding board and test reader. They helped a lot with this chapter and the next.

(4 years ago)

Shawn kept an eye on his leash, making sure it didn't get caught up in the store displays as he followed his excitable owner. His collar dug into his skin as Missy let out an ear-splitting squeal and dragged him to a clothing rack that practically glowed with the amount of rhinestones hanging from it. She gave the leash an impatient jerk and he stumbled another step forward as his neck stung at the abuse.

"This is going to be perfect," Missy stated as she flipped through the hangers, her slave forgotten now he was where she wanted. "Gina is always trying to one-up me, but she's not going to win this time…"

Shawn tuned his owner out as he looked around the store, taking in all of the displays and people. The constant movement and noises of the mall were almost overwhelming, but he drank in as much as he could. Who knew when he'd be somewhere this interesting again?

A hand landed on the back of his head and shoved, forcing Shawn to look down. The hand stayed in place as a large presence crowded behind him, breathing in his ear, "Heel, boy."

Shawn clenched his jaw as his head was pushed further down before he was released. At least the collar didn't seem to recognize that order... The shopping trip would have been much less aggravating if Missy hadn't had to bring her wallet with. Also known as her father.

"Rover, which one do you want to wear?"

Shawn's eyes snapped up even as he kept his head bowed. Both shirts were equally garrish, equally luminescent, and would equally look ridiculous on him. But she was giving him a choice.

It was worth trying to be good; maybe she'd give him more choices. "I like the yellow one, Missy."

"Really?" She looked between the two shirts before hanging the yellow one back on the rack. "I like the pink better. Let's check out the pants!"

Dark disappointment pulled on Shawn as he was directed across the store with several tugs on his leash. He didn't like either shirt, it was ridiculous and stupid, it wasn't worth getting hurt over… "Why ask me if you weren't going to listen?"

A shock jolted through him, hard enough that he had to struggle to stay on his feet. Missy looked at him in disappointment. "You promised you could be a good boy if I took you on a trip."

Shawn glared back; he'd show her 'good boy'. "Gina's going to win because you have terrible fashion sense."

The second shock sent him to his knees, but it was worth it to see genuine hurt cross her face.

Several people looked up from their shopping, checking to see if the unfolding drama was interesting enough to eavesdrop on. He wouldn't be getting any help from them. The large hand returned to grab his shoulder with bruising force, pulling him back to standing. Shawn started to shake; it had been worth it, but it was going to cost him. He knew how much pain those hands could bring when he made Missy unhappy.

"Jessica, didn't I tell you this is why you should leave slaves at home?" Missy's father asked pointedly as his grip grew even tighter.

"But Daddy…" Missy pouted, "I need to make sure he looks perfect."

"Then why don't I take him to the back, that way you can pick out what you'll try on him without any more distractions."

"Fine." Missy dropped the leash and flounced off towards a pair of sequined, zebra-striped pants.

Shawn fought the urge to yell after her that her idea of 'perfect' made Richard Simmons look refined. He so badly wanted to make his collar go off again and shock the large man who was dragging him to the dressing rooms.

But his trainer's voice rose up in his mind, along with the memory of electricity that never seemed to end. "A master is always correct; a slave doesn't question what its master tells it. You deserve this."

He'd done what he'd had to; now it was time to pay the price. If he didn't make it worse, maybe he'd still be allowed to taste the soft pretzels Missy had been eyeing up.

"'Broken in slave' my ass," Missy's father growled as he shoved Shawn into the room. "Your mistress is buying you new clothes; you should be grateful. Put your hands behind your head, and don't make a sound. You've distracted people from their shopping enough as it is."

Shawn did as he was ordered and kept his eyes on the ground as he braced for the first hit.

(Present day)

Shawn woke up disoriented as he caught his breath and tried to see through the darkness. Was he kenneled again? Missy had been shopping for him; surely she didn't get bored that quickly. What had he done wrong?

Sheets rustled above him and he flinched, feeling an undercurrent of relief when a bell didn't ring around his collar. Missy didn't like being woken up, and he'd forgotten about the bell that she'd put on him that night.

But the bell wasn't on him now… Shawn frowned as pieces of memories overlapped and splintered. He remembered the shopping, he remembered Missy petting him the whole ride home, he remembered struggling to fall asleep with his bruised ribs… And he remembered waking up the next day, and his owner cheerfully giving him orders for his tea party with her friend's slave. It was in the past.

Shawn breathed through the familiar dizziness of his memories falling away as he came back to the present. He looked around again. It wasn't completely dark like he'd originally thought; some light filtered in through the window shades, and numbers glowed at him from the clock next to the bed. The clock that was turned so he could see it, because Gus didn't want him to be surprised when the alarm went off.

He had two hours before he was expected to be downstairs and ready to work; two hours to just wait and not wake his master. Shawn watched the numbers, trying to predict when they would change.

Yesterday had gone surprisingly well with Gus out of the house all day. Shawn had expected Mrs. Guster to immediately take out her frustrations on him, but she'd only ordered him through his cleaning tasks like a master normally would. She'd even given him his promised breaks. He'd been so nervous that he'd lose track of time, he'd spent both breaks just watching the clock until it was time to go to work again. But it had been nice to sit for those fifteen minutes while watching the clock.

The minute number went back to zero and the hour ticked up. Things had been almost normal yesterday, though a normal with good food and minimal pain. He'd even been full after dinner. But today was the promised shopping trip, and a whole day alone with his master who didn't make sense. This had to be the day the nice facade broke, and then maybe things would make sense again.

"Maybe I don't want you to be good."

Shawn groaned internally, even as he stayed quiet and still. The nice facade theory didn't make sense, not really. Not with the rules that Gus gave his parents, not with the gag being thrown away, not with Shawn not being punished. But Gus actually being this nice didn't make sense either.

Slaves weren't people, so why did he insist that Shawn should be treated like one?

Maybe his master was insane. A nice insane. It would explain a lot.

The minute number changed again. One hour and forty-five minutes to go.

Shawn finished wiping down the counters as the smell of baking pies filled the kitchen. He looked around quickly, making sure there wasn't anything else he needed to do before falling back to attention. In some ways he didn't want the chores to end, no matter how mind numbingly boring they were. There was safety in knowing exactly what was expected of him.

But slaves didn't get to choose what they did, and the kitchen was clean. Which meant any second now…

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

"The mall doesn't open for another half an hour," Mrs. Guster complained.

"Yeah, but I have a stop I want to make beforehand."

Which wasn't ominous at all. Shawn kept his hands clasped behind his back as he waited for his owners to decide what he needed to do next.

"Fine," she sighed. She walked over to the table and picked up her purse to pull out some cash. She kept it in her hand as she glared at Gus. "This is only for a nice shirt and pants. I expect a receipt and change."

"Do I need to make sure he matches the curtains?" Gus shot back.

"Don't be ridiculous." She handed over the money. "He'd look terrible in floral. Shawn, you can go."

"Thank you, Ma'am," Shawn said as he ducked his head in a small bow.

While Gus was hard to understand, his mother was easy. She smiled at the formal address before looking over her clean kitchen with satisfaction. He had to be careful, but it should be fairly easy to keep easing his way into her good graces. Especially if Gus kept his word and stopped arguing with her all of the time.

Gus led him towards the door, but stopped at the staircase. "Stay here, I'll be right back."

Shawn froze in place, glad that his hands hadn't been in any awkward positions. Gus seemed smart, but there were things he clearly had no clue on. Hopefully he'd figure it out soon.

Gus came back down the stairs and held out a pair of shoes and socks. "These are for you, we'll get you ones that fit better later today."

Of course his insane master wouldn't just order him to take them and override the 'stay' order. There wasn't any reason to be embarrassed; he was a slave following his orders. If he should be feeling anything, it was fear at another master making him choose between a collar order and doing what his master wanted. But it was shame that warmed Shawn's cheeks as he said quietly, "I can't move, sir."

Gus frowned at him. "Why not?"

"You told me to stay, sir."

Gus' eyes unfocused as he thought before he slumped his shoulders with a muttered, "Shit. I did…"

"Language!" Mrs. Guster hollered from the other room.

"Fucking ears of a bat," Gus whispered even quieter. His voice rose to a normal volume as he said, "You can move. I'm sorry about that."

Shawn still had no idea how to handle a master who apologized to him. He kept his eyes down as he took the shoes. "Thank you, sir."

"Couldn't even get out of the house…" Gus said under his breath in clear annoyance. Shawn tried to hide his flinch; it was just his luck to find the one master who'd be angry at him for actually following the rules.

Gus remembered the leash this time, and they made it all the way to the car before their next hurdle.

Gus didn't say anything as he walked to the driver's side door, and Shawn thought fast, trying to figure out where he was supposed to go. He remembered Gus' protests about him riding in the trunk, but that still left several options to guess what was expected of him.

His master seemed to notice his hesitance and waved to the passenger side door. "It's ok, you can sit in the front." He paused and looked conflicted before saying more slowly, "If you're more comfortable somewhere else, that's ok too. You don't- I don't want you to do something just because it's what I want. If it's more comfortable in the back or, uh, the trunk, I won't be mad."

In some ways the trunk would be easier. Shawn was used to it, there weren't any risks of mouthing off or falling into a trap, it made sense… It was also dark, and small, and he never felt like there was enough air to breathe. The small voice that constantly told him to kick out the taillight didn't help anything, either.

Shawn swallowed and his collar seemed heavier than usual as he walked to the car and sat in the front seat for the first time since he'd become a slave. If Gus was going to show his true colors today, then Shawn was going to make the nice moments count as much as possible.

Surprisingly, Gus didn't seem glad that his slave had chosen what he wanted. He gave Shawn a small smile, but there was a worry line between his eyebrows that wasn't there before, and he wasn't immediately trying to start a conversation.

Gus put on his seatbelt and waited for Shawn to fumble with his until it clicked. They both stayed quiet as he backed the car out of the garage and started the drive.

Shawn watched the surrounding area as they drove past houses, small shops, and gas stations. He tried to keep his eyes lowered when Gus looked over, but he knew he wasn't being entirely successful. It was so much to take in; he wanted to see as much as he could.

It was several minutes before Gus finally broke the silence. "So, um, the first place we're going is a drug store." Shawn tensed and Gus quickly added, "No, not for drugs. I want to restock the med kit, and it's a good place to get bathroom stuff. But I was wondering… do you want to shave, or do you want to grow out your beard?"

Shawn huffed a surprised laugh; that was definitely not a question he'd been expecting. Most masters would smack him -at least- for laughing at them, but Gus just quirked his lips up in a small smirk and waited for his answer.

Shawn barely had to think before saying, "My masters have all kept it smooth, it's easier to keep clean."

"That's not the question I asked," Gus pointed out.

Which was true, Shawn had answered the question most masters meant when they asked for his opinion. But he didn't have an answer for the actual question. Slaves never said what they wanted; they weren't allowed to want anything. Shawn rubbed his thumb along his fingers as he tried to think his way through the puzzle. "I… Beards are itchy. And they are hard to clean."

He bit back his final fact that he'd look like he was from the mirror universe if he had a beard. Gus said he didn't want him to be good, but it was too early in the day to actually test that. He had to control the small voice while he still could.

"Ok, we'll add a shaver to the list, then," Gus said easily.

Shawn tried to hide the shudder that ran through him. Just like that he had another thing his master would demand payback for. Nothing was ever free. Especially for a slave.

"We're going to get you shower stuff, underwear, a hairbrush, deodorant, and a toothbrush too. If you think of anything else you need, let me know." Gus glanced over with a wince. "The collar blinked red. FYI."

There were so many things his master was buying. Not to mention the first-aid supplies that Shawn had used up. And it was just the first stop.

Gus' next question was a relief as it distracted Shawn from his thoughts. "So… do slaves really have to ride in the trunk?"

"Masters sit, slaves kneel," Shawn said automatically before shifting in his seat, suddenly uncomfortable with how exposed he was. "My masters usually liked me out of the way. So, trunk. One of them liked me kneeling in the back." He channeled his trainer to add, " A slave doesn't question what its master says."

"That sucks."

Shawn blinked in surprise at the care in his master's voice. He was speaking again before he realized it. "It wasn't too bad. A slave can't get smacked around in the trunk, or be given orders. And you don't have to worry about how to make people happy when you're out of the way."

He winced as he realized he should have stopped after the first two explanations.

"So, I messed up when I told you to sit in the car after I bought you," Gus sighed out as he pulled into the parking lot.

"You told me what to do." It had been weird sitting in the car, and he'd been terrified he'd leave blood on the seat cushion, but it hadn't been too bad.

Gus just sighed again as he parked. "Yeah, and I messed up. Sorry. Is there anything obvious that I don't know about going shopping with a slave?"

"Besides the fact that you don't have to apologize to your slave?" Shawn asked before biting his lip with a wince.

"Yeah, well, I want to apologize to you. So, what are you gonna do about that?" Gus shot back before looking shocked at himself.

"Absolutely nothing, sir. I'm just your slave."

How on earth was he not being punished yet?

Gus studied him, as if looking to see how sincere he was being, before huffing in amusement and climbing out of the car.

Shawn waited to see if his master was going to have him come with in the store as he processed what had just happened. He'd been mouthy, and his master had liked it. And it followed the same pattern from the last few days.

Gus was definitely insane.

His insane master opened the door and waited for him to climb out before putting on his leash. "Alright, let's go."

Gus picked up a basket once they were in the store, but he paused instead of walking on. He seemed to debate himself before saying, "I don't want you to think you have to do things to make me happy. But would… If it would help, you can carry this."

Gus had even avoided a question that time, like he didn't want to force an answer. Shawn waited an extra second to reply, just to see if anything would happen. "It would look pretty weird if you carried your books while you were wearing a bookbag."

Gus smirked, but there was a sadness to it as he handed the basket over. "Yeah, that's fair. Hair stuff first."

Shawn fell back to his usual spot as he tried to comprehend the riddle that was his current master. Every piece of evidence he had pointed to Gus being genuine, but that didn't make sense. He'd bought Shawn; a person didn't just buy a TV and then never turn it on. There wasn't a point to that.

What was his game?

They stopped in an aisle that was filled to the brim with bottles, and Shawn's mind continued to whirl as he waited for Gus to put his choices in the basket. Instead, his master waved towards the display as he asked, "Got any preferences for shampoo?"

Shawn's eyes snapped up at the question, and his thoughts froze as the fully stocked shelf stretched to infinity. How could he know which one his master wanted him to pick? He'd been asked a question, he needed to answer, but there were too many choices, too many potential failures, too many unknowns. The collar beeped and his mouth moved, trying to form words that were beyond his grasp.

"Right. Bad question. Don't answer that."

Shawn slumped in relief at the order and he dropped his eyes down so he wouldn't have to look at the terrifying hair products. His hand clenched around the basket's handles, trying to ground himself in one of the few things that made sense.

His master took several deep breaths before moving slowly and grabbing two bottles from the shelf. "Let's make it easier. You can smell like coconut or sandalwood."

He was being given another chance to be good. He could do this. His master smelled like cocoa butter, so he didn't want them to match. There weren't many other clues for what he'd want his slave to smell like.

Shawn's small voice pointed out a useless fact: his dad sometimes smelled like wood when he was in the middle of a project. Shawn took a deep breath and shakily answered, "Coconut smells good, s-"

He cut off the reflexive 'sir' with a grimace. The one thing he knew his master wanted, and he struggled with even that.

"Coconut it is." Gus placed the bottle in the basket, and Shawn felt an odd sadness when the other bottle was put back on the shelf. At least he'd picked right.

Gus took a step towards the next aisle and looked back, keeping the leash lax as he waited for Shawn to move with him. They made their way through the rest of the store, with Gus having him choose between two things, and Shawn growing more and more confused when all of the choices he made were put into the basket.

As they stood in the checkout line, a simple fact rose up in his mind. Shawn's luck wasn't good enough for him to have guessed right on everything.

The thought fled his mind when the cashier finished scanning the last item and read off the dollar amount. It was too much. Gus had been giving him decisions and he hadn't even been looking at the prices. His heart pounded in his chest; how was he going to be able to pay back that much?

Gus didn't even hesitate as he reached back to grab his wallet. He glanced over as he pulled out a card. "It's ok, I've been saving money for years. I've got plenty."

The cashier raised a judgmental eyebrow at Gus reassuring his slave, but didn't say anything as she handed over the receipt and card. Shawn took a step forward and focused as hard as he could on not letting his hand shake as he held it out for the bags.

Masters always had money. They still found ways for him to pay.

Once the bags were loaded in the trunk and Shawn was loaded in the front seat, Gus slid in behind the steering wheel and sighed. "Well… at least we didn't die."

The comment was so unexpected, Shawn couldn't stop his barked laugh, though he tried to cover it as a cough. Judging by Gus' small smile, he hadn't been completely successful.

Why was he so weird? Why couldn't he make sense?

"The mall should be open now, and it's early so there won't be too many people to worry about."

Shawn's nerves eased as he translated: Less people for him to distract if he messed up.

"We'll get the nice clothes Mom wants, shoes, and a few changes of clothes for you," Gus said as he pulled out of the parking lot. "Is there anything a slave's not allowed to wear?"

"Privately, no." It was weird being asked these questions, but at least they were easy to answer. "Publically, slaves can't be naked, and they can't wear anything that covers their collar."

"Ok, so if I get you some open collar shirts, it'll be fine."

"Wouldn't it be cheaper to just buy a pack of T-shirts?" Shawn asked before he could stop himself.

"Sure, but T-shirts are hard for you to get around your collar," Gus said with a shrug. "I figured polos would be easier."

His master was worried about how the collar affected him, not just how it could control him. It didn't make sense.

Shawn spoke faintly as he kept his eyes down. "I guess I'll be all ready for the golf course."

There was a small chuckle next to him. "I guess so."

Shawn didn't look up nearly as often for the rest of the ride to the mall, too preoccupied with keeping himself calm to be able to take in anything else.

All of his conflicting thoughts bounced loudly in his mind as he followed Gus into the mall. He tried to shove them all back. He hadn't been in a mall for years; he needed to take in as much of it as he could. He could figure out his insane master the next time he was just watching the time tick by.

Of course, that would work better if Gus wasn't right there in front of him in all of his confusing glory.

"You've been quiet for a bit, are you going to be ok?"

Completely insane.

"Yes."

Gus sighed. "Well, at least you didn't say you'd be ok if I ordered you to be…"

Shawn bit his lip; he couldn't get used to the niceness. But he had thought about saying that.

Gus stopped at a display window and stared at the mannequins as he complained, "What do slaves even wear when they're dressed up?"

It was such the perfect opening, it had to be a trap. Shawn still had to say it. "Slaves wear whatever their masters tell them, sir."

Gus groaned in annoyance and walked into the store. The small spike of pride Shawn felt at the reaction fled when he saw all of the clothes hanging on the racks.

He hated being dressed up.

"Any material you don't like?" Gus asked as he looked through a rack of button up shirts.

Shawn remembered smooth, cool cloth shifting across his shoulders as leather was tightened around his face. He tried to say that he'd wear anything, but his mouth betrayed him. "Not silk."

Shawn snapped his mouth closed and tensed. Now he was guaranteed to only be given silk things to wear. This was why he couldn't let himself grow compliant.

"That's easy enough," his master said before holding up two shirts. "Which one would you rather wear?"

Shawn barely glanced up before doing a double take. They weren't silk. They didn't look terrible either, just simple, dark dress shirts. It didn't matter what he said, but he'd been asked a question. "The green looks nice."

"Really?" Gus looked at the dark purple shirt in his other hand, and Shawn pressed back the memory that was trying to take hold. The last thing his master needed was a slave dealing with flashbacks in the middle of a store. Gus shrugged and handed the green shirt over. "Here, you look like you need to hold something."

Shawn took the shirt mindlessly as he stared at the purple shirt being hung back on the rack. The shirt's loose collar was soft under his thumb as he was led further into the store. Gus' closet was full of purple and blue hues, but not much green. It hadn't been intentional, but Shawn had been certain that he'd chosen wrong. Why didn't his master make sense?

And why did the green shirt in his hands make his chest feel warm?

"I'm working under the assumption that we're almost the same size," Gus chatted at him, apparently not noticing the man a rack over who was giving him a side eye. Shawn kept his head down and stayed as far from the other customer as possible. He had to stay good. Gus' voice sounded distant as he continued, "But I know you're skinnier than me, so we might have to try a few times to get something that really fits." He handed two pairs of the same black pants to Shawn. "Though, let's be honest, it's obvious you haven't been fed enough. Hopefully you won't be as skinny once you're used to regular meals."

It was dizzying to think about three meals a day being a regular thing. It had been a long time since he hadn't been at least slightly hungry. A glint from one of the clothing racks was replaced by the silver glint of a tray with half-eaten food on it.

His stomach knotting in hunger as he turned away, cruel eyes watching from the shadows, a satisfied smirk as he passed the hidden test. A dry treat in his mouth, a hand patting his head.

A jingling sound split through his memories, and Shawn flinched back when he saw the belt in his master's hands. He'd been too distracted, he must have missed something, he'd known it was too good to be true. His master had just been waiting for a public place so he could show Shawn that he wasn't safe anywhere. And now he was going to be put back into his place, and Gus wouldn't be nice anymore, and he should have tried to be good for longer…

"Shit, sorry. I didn't-" the belt jingled again, along with the sound of something being put on a rack. His master spoke quietly in front of him. "Hey, it's ok. You're not going to be hurt. I just thought we could get pants that you could grow into, and I'd get you a belt so they'd fit now."

"Excuse me," another man's voice chimed in. "Did I just hear you apologize to your slave?"

Shawn cringed back as he fought to take a full breath. He wasn't just bothering his master, but the other people too. He wasn't being good.

"Excuse me," his master snapped back. "Did you hear me asking for your opinion? No. No, you did not."

His master moved closer, and Shawn tightened his shaking hands around what he was holding. He couldn't drop them, he couldn't make the punishment worse. Maybe if he was good enough he wouldn't lose his food privilege.

"It's ok. We're going to go to the back. Can you follow me?"

Shawn had to answer, even if his lungs weren't working right. His voice was faint as he managed to say, "Yes, master."

Even when he was angry, his master wasn't making sense. If Shawn was supposed to be punished in public, then why were they going to the back? The other customer sounded like he'd be ok watching a beating.

His master led the way, taking extra time around the racks to make sure Shawn stayed behind him. As if Shawn would run; he knew better.

They reached a small room with several changing stalls, and his master quietly took the clothes out of Shawn's hands. Shawn didn't dare move as he waited for his orders; had Gus' aversion to blood been part of the act too? Or did he want privacy for a worse reason?

His master stood in front of him, his gaze heavy enough for Shawn to feel as his body shook. The tension grew as Shawn braced for the first hit. And then his master sat down.

Of course. Of course his punishments wouldn't make sense either.

"Ok. I have a feeling I'm going to have to say this a lot." His master was speaking with the same forced-calm he used with his mother when he was angry. "I do not want to hurt you. If I ever do need to… to discipline you, then you will know upfront what's going to happen and why."

But that didn't make sense, because he didn't know what was going to happen or why. Just that he'd been bad and now he was going to be punished.

"You aren't being disciplined right now, because you haven't done anything wrong."

Shawn tried to hide his reaction, but he knew the confusion had to be easy to read on his face. What did he mean that he wasn't being punished?

His master sighed. "Ok, let's try this instead. This is an order. Breathe in slowly."

This had to be the weirdest punishment ever. Shawn breathed in slowly.

"Hold your breath."

Shawn held his breath. Could the collar tell how he was breathing?

"Slowly breathe out."

Shawn breathed out. This didn't seem like a punishment.

"Breathe in… Hold… Breathe out."

The belt in Gus' hands had been from the rack next to him. It wouldn't make sense to beat Shawn with something he hadn't bought yet. Did he really just think his slave needed a belt?

"In… Hold… Out."

Gus wasn't punishing him. This was just to calm him down. Even though Shawn had freaked out and probably embarrassed him in front of the other people.

"You can breathe on your own."

Shawn tried to keep the slow breaths going. He probably deserved being disciplined after a display like that. At least he'd still followed his master's orders, but he was usually better at staying in control of himself. It didn't make sense.

Nothing made sense.

Shawn looked up slightly, not brave enough to focus above Gus' knee. He could see his master's expression in his peripheral vision, and what he saw just added to his confusion. His master wasn't frustrated or angry. If anything, he looked concerned.

What sort of master was concerned about a panicking slave?

"Hey, you're doing great. You're…" Gus huffed and seemed to brace himself. "You're being good. You're making me happy by calming down."

The words were like a soothing balm, and it became easier to breathe and think. He really wasn't being punished.

Gus watched him for a few seconds before bracing his elbows on his knees and dropping his face into his hands. He stayed in that position for almost a full minute, just taking deep breaths that Shawn found himself mirroring.

"Well," Gus said into his hands, "at least I have experience with panic attacks…" He dropped his hands and stood up with a groan. "I'm going to say this again since I'm not sure how much of it you heard earlier. I don't want to hurt you. If I ever do discipline you, it won't be a surprise." He looked at the two pairs of pants and picked one of them up before grabbing the green shirt. "Screw it, we'll have the receipt, you can try them on at home when you're calmer. Let's go get some food."

Shawn followed his master to the register, still reeling at what hadn't happened. It had been the perfect opportunity to put him in his place, and Gus had stayed nice. Gus really wasn't faking it.

Why was that thought so terrifying?