A/N: Flashback CW: cigarette burns.

FYI, flashbacks will never be 'required reading' for understanding the "Present Day" plot. It obviously adds a lot of context and/or juxtapositions, but if there's ever a CW you can't handle, you won't miss out on necessary info.

(5 years ago)

A bead of sweat ran down Shawn's trembling arms, and he tried to shift more weight onto his knees while keeping his back flat. Bright spots of pain burned between his bare shoulder blades, but he couldn't focus on that. He kept his breathing shallow and focused on the weight resting on his lower back.

He didn't need to worry about the stupid lesson, or how long he'd been on his hands and knees, or how thirsty he was… He just needed to worry about not dropping the book.

The man-who-thought-he-owned-Shawn let out a long breath, and Shawn crinkled his nose at the acrid smell of smoke. It was just another gross addition to the whole situation. Like the man was an uglier version of Cruella DeVille. Which would probably make him Lucky, and that was ironic in all of the worst ways.

The man's chair creaked, and Shawn tensed, forcing his mind back on track. It was fine. All he needed to do was make sure the book didn't fall, then it would be over.

Something warm moved close to his back, and pinpricks of pain scattered around it. Shawn's arms twitched as he fought against the instinct to move away. The collar wouldn't let him move; the man wouldn't let him move. He focused on the heat, on the ash, on the incoming pain… Except he shouldn't be focusing on that. He needed to focus on not dropping the book.

Why wasn't the cigarette burning yet?

"Your turn, slave. You've heard the lesson… One." A finger prodded one of the burning spots on his back, and white hot pain branded him where it touched. "Two." the next burn flared. Shawn fought against his flinch as the finger made its painful way across his shoulder. "Three. Four times. You gotta know it by now."

Shawn's breath hitched through his clenched teeth. He didn't want to say it. He wanted to tell the asshole that the only lesson here was how he was a sadistic bastard. That women never wanted to come around because his very presence reeked up the room. But he also just needed this to be over.

"Say it. What's the lesson?"

The real lesson came to him as he hung his head: "Shawn, someday you're going to get into a fight that you can't win. When that happens, the only thing you need to focus on is surviving."

The collar beeped, and Shawn chose survival. "A slave is whatever its master wants."

The heat next to his back still wasn't moving. Why wasn't it moving?

"And what're you?"

Shawn gritted his teeth, but still said it. "I'm a slave."

The heat made contact with his skin, a white-hot circle of burning and flaring pain. The cigarette twisted, burning even deeper, but Shawn remembered what to focus on. He kept his whimpers locked in his throat, kept his back locked in place, and kept his mind locked on the book.

After what felt like an eternity, the cigarette lifted, leaving another searing spot behind. And the book was still on his back. He'd done it; it was over.

"Good slave." A hand made contact with his head and he flinched, nearly dropping the book and ruining everything. The hand patted the back of his hair gently, and he hated the part of him that wanted to lean into the touch.

"You were a good book holder." The book was removed and Shawn sagged, waiting for the order that would let him move. A cool circle was suddenly placed over several of his burns, and he yelped with a flinch at the unexpected pain. The circle teetered on his back before settling back down.

"That was a close one. Masters don't gotta tell you what they want, you just gotta do it. But I'll be nice. Now, I want a water holder."

Shawn squeezed his eyes closed, refusing to let the tears fall as he focused on keeping his shoulders still. The glass was cool, soothing the burns that had flared up at its touch, and he focused on the comfort as he slowed his breathing. He just had to survive.

He just had to not spill the water.

(Present day)

The garage door closed behind Gus as he grabbed his book bag from the car. It had been a good day; he'd aced the psych exam, he'd worked ahead in stats and was already halfway through his homework, and the blonde who liked to sit two seats down from him had given him a bright smile when class was over. Maybe he'd actually say hello to her next week.

The house was quiet as he walked through the door, which seemed odd. He called out, "Hello? Anyone home?"

His good mood started to waver when no one answered. Did his mother take Shawn somewhere? Did something happen? Was Shawn ok?

He walked into the living room and his stomach fell through the floor when he saw the remote to Shawn's collar sitting on the side table. Shawn was still in the house, and he wasn't responding. Why wouldn't he-

Gus' searching eyes found his answer in the motionless, kneeling form in the corner. "Shawn!"

The only sign Shawn heard his name was a small flinch.

Gus' feet took a step forward of their own accord before he stopped them. If Shawn wasn't feeling safe, then his master approaching him would probably only scare him more. Forcing answers from Shawn didn't feel right, but it was the only other tool Gus had besides just ordering him around. "Can you tell me what's going on?"

Shawn's eyes flicked up towards the remote before going back to the ground. The silence grew thicker at the lack of even a warning beep.

The collar wasn't making Shawn answer the question. Which meant he was already following an order. Which meant… Gus' hand clenched around the strap of his bag. His fucking mother. "I rescind all orders."

The words felt like ice leaving his lips, and Shawn flinched at the tone. Gus took a few calming breaths and imagined punching his mother's purse over and over again. He'd deal with her later, but right now he needed to play damage control. Again.

He made sure his voice was gentle as he said, "You're not in trouble. I'm mad at Mom, not at you."

Shawn still didn't move, even though his collar had blinked yellow when Gus had overridden the orders. His eyes stayed down, his hands were motionless in his lap, his face was completely blank. Gus took a slow step forward before realizing why things felt off.

Shawn's hands weren't moving.

Even if it was just small fidgets and looks, one thing Gus already knew about his slave was that he never stopped moving. Not unless he was scared. But he wasn't scared now -or at least, not that sort of scared- and he still wasn't moving. Something was wrong.

The last few times something had been wrong, Gus had been able to use orders to ease Shawn into a calmer headspace. But this time it had been orders that had caused the problem. He needed to do something different.

Treating Shawn like a slave wasn't going to work; Gus had to treat him like a person.

Gus walked slowly to Shawn's side as he kept talking. "You're ok. I'm just going to hang out with you and do some homework."

He sat on the floor and kept an eye on Shawn as he slid his backpack off of his shoulders. Shawn's mask had cracked with a confused tilt of his eyebrows, which Gus took as a good sign. He pulled out his stats homework and a pencil. "You can move whenever you're ready. Take as much time as you need."

"A slave spends its time serving its master."

The words were said quietly with the wrong cadence, and Gus fought to keep his eyes on his paper. What the fuck did his mother say to Shawn to send him that deep into slave-mode? It was like he'd regressed all the way back to how he'd been when he was bought.

Gus chose his words carefully. They felt nasty to think, much less say, but Shawn needed to hear things in his language. "Well, right now I don't need anything. You can serve me by taking a minute to breathe…. To take slow breaths."

Exactly how specific did he have to be when Shawn was like this? Could he actually make Shawn think he was only allowed to breathe once a minute? God, he wasn't qualified for this.

Gus took another breath of his own before focusing on his homework. The ball was in Shawn's court now; he just needed to wait.

He worked through the story problems as his mind worked on a different problem. Shawn wouldn't be in this position if he was free. It was the only real answer to everything, but after several hours of googling, Gus wasn't anywhere closer to a solution. Shawn didn't have any marketable skills to earn his freedom, his escape record kept him from applying for freedom, and there wasn't any safe way to remove the collar on his own.

Gus wasn't giving up, but he was running out of things to Google. And he was probably on a watch-list by now.

He'd finished another page of his homework before Shawn finally spoke up. "I'm sorry, sir."

"Why?" Gus asked carefully.

"You don't like when I act like a slave." Shawn barely moved as he shied away. "I'm not being what you want."

There was so much wrong with that statement, but Shawn definitely wasn't in the right headspace to hear most of it. Gus made sure to keep his voice gentle as he said, "I know that I'm asking you to be different than everyone else expects. But that doesn't mean you're in trouble if you can't act that way all of the time."

Shawn's face scrunched up further, and Gus tried to ease his confusion. "After school, I take the longer route home so I can drive by a nature preserve. It takes about five extra minutes, and I use that time to switch from school-mode to home-mode." He made a face; why was he talking about himself all of a sudden? "And that's… really not that same thing. Just… it's ok if it takes you a bit of time to switch modes."

Please let him still be able to switch modes…

Shawn didn't completely relax, but his look of confusion softened and his thumb began to slowly rub over his knuckles. His lips twitched, like he was trying to smile before realizing he couldn't yet. "Which preserve?"

"Carneros," Gus answered, putting his pencil down. He could do small talk if that's what Shawn needed. "My Dad tried to go fishing there once… the lake was so dried up we could walk to one of the islands."

"You fish?"

"I try my best not to…"

Shawn slowly relaxed, his smile returning as Gus ranted about how disgusting fish were and how he'd managed to lose his favorite pair of shoes that day to the lake. Gus didn't tell him that he hadn't taken the side-trip since he'd bought Shawn. After today, he didn't plan to ever take it again.

After a while, they moved to their bedroom and Gus dug out his chess set. He set up the pieces and explained how each one moved, hoping that the distraction would keep Shawn from having to worry about how to act. "Ultimately, your goal is to take out my king before I can take out yours."

Shawn's bright smile was back on his face, and it looked even stranger right after the blank slave mask. "So, I was right, the queen is the strongest. Are there any other girl pieces?"

It was an easier question to think about than what was going on in his slave's head. Gus stared at the board in thought. "Well, historically, knights have always been men, though I guess chevaleresses were a thing. Some women have been ordained as bishops, depending on denomination. But chess came about in the 6th century, and they would have all been men back then. Rooks are named after Indian chariots, which don't really have a gender, so I guess we could say they're girls…"

His face warmed up as he felt Shawn staring at him. He usually remembered to keep his useless trivia to himself; all it ever did was earn him swirlies in the bathroom and empty tables in the lunchroom.

"Everyone can be a pawn," Shawn pointed out after another few seconds of silence. "Equal opportunity cannon fodder?"

"Sounds good to me," Gus agreed in relief.

They had moved on to a practice game when they heard the garage door opening. Gus stood up and nodded towards the board. "I'm going to talk to them, but you should stay up here. You can practice playing yourself if you want."

"She was-" Shawn flinched and looked down. "Slaves can't be trusted on their own."

"We both know that's not true. Just because someone taught you that, it doesn't make it right." Now if only he could convince Shawn to take that lesson and apply it to everything the person with a different cadence had told him.

Gus turned to leave the room and said over his shoulder, "I'll be talking to them in the living room if you decide to hang out by the stairs again…"

He left the option open and went downstairs. His mother had a lot of explaining to do…

There were several options for the best place to make his stand, and Gus thought for a second before moving to the middle of the room and crossing his arms. He eyed up the small hallway leading to the garage and fought an internal debate. Maybe he'd look more intimidating if he stood over there instead… He shook his head at himself and stayed in place. It would be awkward to have the conversation in the hall, he was plenty intimidating here.

"... we set them by three, on a double! You should have seen her face," his mother cheerfully chattered as she walked through the door.

Gus stood up straighter and tightened his arms, waiting for her to notice him.

"It sounds like you'd better watch your back next week." Gus' father chuckled as he followed her into the house.

"Oh please, she's too busy trying to bid all fancy. There's a reason they always lose, you know… Oh hello, Burton! I wasn't sure if we'd beat you home or not. How was school?"

Did she seriously not see that he was being intimidating right now? Gus set his jaw and asked, "What did you do to Shawn?"

"What do you mean? I put him away right…" his mother looked at the corner with a worried look on her face. "That's strange. He wasn't there when you came home?"

"When I came home, I found him stuck there, not moving a muscle," Gus said, watching her face carefully. Maybe she didn't know that 'stay' was an order…

"Oh good, that's exactly what I told him to do." She dashed his faint hope with a smile. "I'm in a good mood tonight, what do you want for dinner?"

"Mom!" Gus snapped. If he shook her hard enough, would the dumb fall out? "You left him there. For hours. The house could have caught on fire and he wouldn't have been able to move."

Her smile dimmed. "I wasn't going to leave a slave alone in our house. He could have tried to run, or worse."

"Or worse? What, he might sit at your precious table?" His father was shaking his head with a deliberate look, which Gus deliberately ignored. "Or maybe, the horror, he might have gone to the bathroom when he needed it, or gotten a drink of water, or found something to do."

"Slaves don't need things to do, which you would know if you'd done any research on the matter-"

Gus' father stepped between them, his hands held out like he was about to break up a physical brawl. "Ok, both of you, cut it out. Clearly this was just a case of miscommunication…"

"She thinks this is right-"

"He's being unreasonable-"

"A case of miscommunication!" his father repeated loudly over their arguments. "Burton, you never said how Shawn was supposed to be put away when no one was home. Winnie, you knew you were heading out days ago, you could have asked. Now, why don't we-"

Gus' mother argued over him, "I don't care what rule he wants to set, I am not having an unsupervised slave wandering free in our house."

"Then leave him in my room," Gus tried to bargain.

"Unacceptable. He could easily let himself out into the rest of the house."

His father tried one more time. "Can this at least wait until after dinner?"

"She made Shawn wait hours; I think you can survive a few more minutes," Gus snapped out. He was so tired of not being listened to.

"That's enough of your attitude, young man." His father pointed warningly at him. "I've been trying to keep the peace, but your mother's right on this one. A slave can't be trusted in the house alone. Now, once we've all settled down, I'm sure we can come to some sort of arrangement…"

Gus stared at his back-stabbing, cowardly father. He'd agreed that Gus was the one who decided how Shawn was treated, not anyone else.

"There is no 'arrangement'," his mother said, her smile a thing of the past. "The slave is put away in a corner, or he's put away in a kennel. Those are your options." She turned and stalked to the kitchen.

"Don't give me that look," Gus' father told him with a glare. "Even Shawn will tell you it's normal. Go cool down, we'll let you know when it's dinner time."

Gus growled and turned his back on his dumb parents. Two more months. They only had to survive two more months, then he was never stepping foot in this house again.

Gus walked into his room and immediately groaned at the sight in front of him. Shawn was sitting in the same spot he'd been before, but his shoulders were tight, his hands were still, and there was a frantic edge to his eyes.

It wasn't fair; he was trying to do the right thing. At least one person in this house should recognize that. Gus sat in his chair with a huff. Maybe his parents were right and he was the wrong one. What was the saying about smelling shit everywhere…? Shawn shied away, his smile gone, and Gus tried to shove his frustrated thoughts to the side to make room for gentle thoughts.

He needed to keep Shawn from going into slave-mode again.

"I'm going to assume you heard everything," he started, proud of the fact that his voice was even. "I'm sorry that I lost my temper, but they were wrong."

"It… is normal," Shawn said quietly. He hesitated before reaching out to pick up his bishop, running his thumb over the pointed top.

"And like I said, that doesn't make it right." Gus rubbed the back of his neck as he replayed the conversation from his slave's point of view. "I wasn't trying to make her angry. I'll make sure she doesn't take it out on you."

How he was going to do that, he didn't know. But he'd figure something out.

Shawn started spinning the piece in his hand. "Fire fighters can order slaves around, you know. All first responders can. You don't have to worry."

"Someone has to worry about you," Gus said with an eye roll. Trust Shawn to try to reassure him. "It might as well be me."

The bishop spun faster as Shawn's jaw worked, looking like he was fighting himself on what to say. The movement abruptly stopped as his hand clenched around the piece, and he looked up, meeting Gus' eyes. His wariness was easy to read as he said, "It's… I'd… I'd pr-prefer kneeling over a kennel." His eyes dropped back to the carpet. "Sir."

Gus swallowed back the groan that wanted to be released on the world. Shawn finally said the damn word, and it was for that. It was fucked up, it was wrong, there had to be a better way.

But until he found one, he had to show Shawn that his preferences would be respected. Gus' voice came out sounding as hollow as he felt when he said, "Thank you for letting me know."

Shawn relaxed and looked back up tentatively. "You're… welcome." He kept his eyes on Gus as he put the bishop piece back on the board without looking. "Do you want to keep playing?"

Gus let out another sigh before moving to sit on the other side of the game; they could probably both use the distraction. He looked everything over and noticed the bishop was even in the right spot, which was impressive.

He pointed at his rook and traced an imaginary route. "Something you have to think about in chess is whether a sacrifice is worth it. I could take your knight, but it leaves my rook open for your bishop to take him. I'd prefer to keep him in play for longer, so I'm going to move this piece instead." He moved a pawn up. "Now, you have to see which pieces are vulnerable, and which ones you're willing to give up."

Shawn nodded and moved his piece away from the threatening pawn, leaving Gus open to move further in on his next turn.

Gus wasn't willing to give up on this fight yet. He just needed time to think through all of his options.

He still didn't know the winning move when he sat at the table for dinner, but he'd at least figured out a temporary stalemate. Now he just needed to swallow his pride and make nice to his mother so he could implement it.

Which was hard when he was eating fresh takeout and Shawn was kneeling in the corner with leftover casserole. Shawn didn't seem to mind though, and had even smiled when Gus had added a roll to the plate.

Gus took a deep breath, using the earthy smell of the sauce to strengthen his resolve as he broke the silence. "I'm sorry for how I acted. You were right, I didn't-"

The words stuck in his throat, refusing to be said. He'd practiced it in his head, but he couldn't agree with them. Not like that. As his parents watched him expectantly, he changed what he was going to say to something more truthful. "I asked Shawn, and you were right; he said what you did was normal."

Shawn tilted his head in interest, but his attention stayed locked on the food in front of him.

"Thank you for apologizing," Gus' mother said as she put her silverware down. "We understand you have different views of your slave than we do, and we've been trying to respect them. But there are times where we can't risk trusting him to act like you want."

Times when her reputation and pride were at stake… Gus kept his thoughts to himself and put his father's salesman lessons to good use. "I'd like Shawn to have a chance to prove he doesn't need controlled when he's by himself."

Gus already knew he didn't, but he couldn't risk his mother finding out that Shawn was free every night while they slept. He just needed to give her an offer she wouldn't agree with.

"That is unacceptable," she replied, just like he'd known she would. "I told you your options; there isn't any other compromise."

His father watched him carefully, but didn't say anything as a small smile played around his lips.

"Ok, what about a compromise within those options?" Gus asked, setting his plan into motion. Always shoot for higher than you'll think you'll get. "You said you wanted to respect how I see Shawn. I think he should at least have something to do if he's not allowed to move. Make sure he doesn't need a drink or bathroom before you order him to sit still, and leave the TV on for him when you go. Real TV, not infomercials."

It was small, it was so small, but maybe it would be enough to remind Shawn he was still a person when he was 'put away'. There had to be a better way, but it was the best Gus had for now.

His mother thought as she looked at him with squinted eyes. She wasn't outright saying no, which had to be a good sign. Gus pointed out the last argument he had before she could make up her mind. "You can even tell yourself you're keeping the house safe from burglars. I mean, it's not like you have a thirty grand purchase kneeling in your living room or anything…"

His father snorted a quiet laugh and his mother turned her glare to him before rolling her eyes. "Alright, your compromise is acceptable. I'll leave the TV on next time I go out."

"Thank you." Gus waited a few seconds before glancing over at the corner of the room. Shawn seemed to sense the look and his eyes flicked up to meet Gus' as he gave a small smile. Gus nodded in acknowledgement and looked away, just in time to see his father giving him an odd look.

His father didn't mention it, though, instead taking another bite of food before saying, "I've been thinking. The Fourth of July is coming up, and they're planning to shoot the fireworks off of the beach. It'd be fun to take the boat out to watch them."

"That sounds like a fabulous idea," his mother answered with a genuine smile. "It would be much better than the crowds, and we could pack snacks…"

Gus listened to the plans as he quietly ate, trying to push down the guilt that had flared up at Shawn's smile. He should have done more; there had to be a better way.

Shawn deserved better.

Gus borrowed his mother's car the next day, going for a quick supply run on his own. That night, he unpacked the bag in front of Shawn, showing him the cooling pillow that could wrap around his neck and the extension cord that would hopefully let him charge his collar while sitting on the bed. He ducked his head in embarrassment as he brought out the last item. "Ok, I know it looks ridiculous, but it'd let you drink without needing help…"

Shawn actually laughed when Gus brought out the beer hat. It was a short and quiet laugh, but it kept Gus' spirits up as they played chess through the hour of charging that night, with him asking Shawn what to play and moving the pieces where he said.

It turned out, he'd been right. Shawn was definitely smart, and he was picking up on the game fast. He never needed to be reminded of how the pieces moved and he was starting to take advantage of some of Gus' intentional blunders. They were still playing with beginner's strategy, but considering that he didn't even know the pieces' names a day ago, it was a very fast learning curve.

Gus spent the next morning helping his mother in the kitchen as Shawn did his chores. Thankfully, his mother seemed to have moved on past their argument last night and wasn't treating Shawn any different than before. Surprisingly, she didn't treat Gus differently either, and while they had a few small arguments about the pies they were making, it was turning out to be an enjoyable morning.

She checked on Shawn's progress every now and then, and Gus was in the middle of cutting excess crust from a pie when she informed him that she'd sent Shawn up for his break. Gus finished his job before asking, "May I be excused?"

She waved at him from where she was checking the fillings bubbling on the stove. "Come back down when he does."

Gus made a face at being so transparent, but took the opportunity given to him. He went straight to his room and started talking the second he walked through the doorway, "Hey, Shawn. How are you doing?"

Shawn jumped at his entrance, his head whipping around from where he'd been staring at the back wall. Fear and surprise colored his face before he quickly covered it with a too-bright smile. He took a deep breath before answering, "Hi, Gus. I was waiting for you."

The words were right, but the tone was a bit off. Too even. And the pause before it was strange too… Gus looked at the back wall, tracing where Shawn would have been looking, and his eyes fell on his clock. He looked back at Shawn sitting on the bed and the clock again. Had he really just been watching the time tick by? And why was he lying about it?

"So, uh, I thought we could maybe play some more chess," Shawn kept talking, sounding less certain. "I would have set up the board, but…" his smile fell and his eyes darted around, as if looking for a distraction.

"Yeah, we can play." Something nagged at Gus as he pulled out the board and started to set it up. Why did it feel like he was missing something?

"So, how do you guys usually celebrate the Fourth?" Shawn asked, his smile back in place now that Gus was moving.

"My parents sort of hop around between different people's cookouts and community stuff." Gus winced as he realized most of the community events happened in the holiday market on the pier. He moved on quickly, "The last few years I've hung out with a friend, but he's out of town."

"Maybe we could hang out."

"Yeah, that sounds good." At least his parents would be gone, and the crowds wouldn't be too bad if they stayed away from the popular spots.

"Keeping with tradition and hanging out with a friend," Shawn said brightly.

Gus' mind stalled to a halt and he stared. Did he just say…

His thoughts whirred back to full speed and beyond, like a movie on fast forward. A slave spent its time serving its master, the too-bright smile, the strange questions, Shawn apologizing for not acting like Gus wanted, him always agreeing with everything, the shifts from slave-mode to Shawn-mode…

"Oh my god." Gus stared at the person he knew absolutely nothing about. "You've been pretending to be my friend."

Shawn's smile dimmed as his eyebrows went down in confusion. "Yes?"

"Wh- No! Not yes! No!" How did he get things so wrong that Shawn thought he wanted that? Didn't he tell him they couldn't be friends? He distinctly remembered saying something like that.

"I'm sorry, sir." Shawn's smile disappeared instantly. "Did- did I do it wrong?"

"Did you… I don't want you to be my friend!"

Shawn flinched, his eyes widening, looking like the world had just fallen out from under him. "Then what do you want from me?"

"I don't know!" Gus collapsed into his chair as the overall insanity of their situation overwhelmed him. "I don't know if you've noticed or not, but I have no idea what I'm doing… I know you deserve better, and I know you won't get any better with anyone else. That's literally all I have to work with. I don't want anything from you!"

Shawn looked him over frantically, his mouth moving wordlessly for several seconds. He finally answered with the wrong cadence. "A slave is whatever its master wants."

"Fine." Gus leaned forward as a flash of an idea came to him. If nothing else, maybe it would stop Shawn from being so scared around him. "You want to know what I want?"

"Yes, sir," Shawn said desperately.

"I want you to be you. Not the slave-who-used-to-be-called-Shawn, and not the fake-friend you've been pretending to be, but the real-Shawn."

Shawn's eyes dropped to the floor as he curled in on himself.

"Being you is what got you so many of those scars, isn't it?" Gus realized.

"Yes, sir," Shawn answered faintly.

"You won't get more of them here. Not if I can help it," Gus promised. "And I'll prove it to you. Being yourself means pissing off your masters, right? Do it. Piss me off."

Shawn's face turned blank as he retreated further. "A slave respects its betters."

Gus shook his head; he was done being nice. "A master leads, a slave follows. I'm telling you what I want, you're supposed to do it. I'm ordering you to be yourself and piss me off. And I'm also promising you, you won't be punished for it."

Shawn's internal struggle was obvious in how fast his eyes were moving, how still his hands were, and how tight he was holding himself. His voice shook as he answered quietly, "You're a weird master."

"Yes, I am. But that's a compliment for me," Gus pointed out. "Try harder."

"You're… a dumb master." Shawn shied away as he continued, "Only a dumb master would think their slave was a person."

That one stung a bit, but probably not for the reasons Shawn thought. "Closer, but I'm still not mad."

Shawn looked over again, clearly surprised that he wasn't being hurt. He took a deep breath and set his jaw as he met Gus' eyes. His voice was surprisingly steady as words shot out of his mouth in a rapid stream. "You're not dumb, you're plenty smart and you know it. But that's the only thing you are. No friends, no drama, there's nothing interesting in your life and there never will be. Even your parents are more interested in the perfect kid they think they have than who you actually are."

Gus stared, his jaw dropping at the sudden onslaught. But Shawn wasn't done.

"You want to be cool, learning all sorts of hobbies, but you just keep picking the wrong ones; the ones that get you even more made fun of. The one cool thing you've managed to find, you're too scared to tell anyone about or it'll get back to your parents. They certainly won't like their perfect boy learning how to pick locks. The only thing you have is your brain, but when you go to college even that won't be unique anymore. You'll always be a boring little salesman, in a boring little world, where no one ever cares about you."

Shawn didn't flinch or look away as Gus blinked at him mutely. The words hit much closer to home than he'd expected, and his hands had clenched into fists all on their own. But the hurt reaction was muted compared to a louder thought echoing through his mind; how did Shawn know all of that?

Hundreds of questions clambered to be asked, but only one of them made it out of his mouth. "Did you tell my parents about the lockpicks?"

Shawn's jaw dropped and he stared back in shock. The collar beeped in the silence and he flinched before answering, "No, sir."

"Good. Thanks." Gus took a deep breath; it was fine. College changed people, he could find friends, he had time to find his place. Shawn didn't see the future, he just saw what would hurt. "See? All of that, and nothing bad happened."

"Jury's still out on that one," Shawn answered. He looked surprised at himself, but didn't take it back.

Gus shrugged and forced his hands open. "I asked for it. If that was the real-you… I'd like to see more."

Shawn studied him carefully. "Why?"

"Because that was very impressive. And I'd love to know how you did it."

"Slaves see more than people think."

Which was fair; Gus wouldn't want to give up any of his secrets to the person who controlled his life either.

It was time to see if Shawn actually understood the lesson. Gus deliberately relaxed back into his chair and asked, "So, what do you actually think, would you eat the cereal sandwich in the Breakfast Club?"

Shawn hesitated and his eyebrows furrowed, but he looked up slowly as he answered, "I'd eat anything."

Gus sighed and mentally kicked himself. Of course a slave would answer that. "Fine, rephrase, do you think it would be better with or without the pixie sticks?"

For a second, it looked like Shawn was going to play it safe and agree with what Gus had said a few days ago. But he stopped himself at the last minute and thought before opening his mouth again. "The pixie sticks add flavor as well as sweet. Like candy ketchup. It'd make the sandwich better."

"You did not just diss pixie sticks like that," Gus argued. He waited out Shawn's flinch and raised his eyebrows expectantly.

Shawn met the look and answered with more confidence. "You heard me. Though, honestly, I think it's dissing ketchup more than anything."

Gus grinned. That was more like it.