Something was wrong with Shawn.
Gus was barely able to focus on his homework as he sat at the kitchen table. He was falling behind, which was really unlike him, but other things were more important. Like figuring out what was wrong with Shawn.
He'd stayed in slave-mode all last night, and was still stuck in it today. And he was even meeker than usual while doing his usual slave chores. Which was saying something since he'd been pretty much the ideal slave even before whatever happened happened.
It was obvious his mother had done something. The question was: what?
Shawn had only hesitated on the 'threatened' question, but what could she have threatened him with to leave him so scared? He was even scared when it was just the two of them. Maybe she'd told Shawn something about Gus that would have scared him?
But Shawn knew more about him than even his mother. It had to be something else, but it was eluding him. And he couldn't wait for it to hurry up and find him, Shawn needed help now.
His mother walked past him, and Gus looked up to see Shawn standing at attention after cleaning the oven. It was probably just Gus' imagination, but it seemed like Shawn was fighting the urge to kneel as his work was inspected.
"This looks good," his mother said with a brisk nod. "You can go on break."
"Thank you, ma'am." Shawn left the room without looking at Gus once. Something was very wrong.
Gus looked back down at his homework and counted to one hundred as he traced the words he'd already written. Shawn was scared enough; he didn't need to hear this conversation. Once the coast was clear, he put down his pencil and asked, "Mom, do you have a minute?"
"Of course." She brushed her hands off like she'd been the one to clean the oven. "What's on your mind?"
"I was wondering if something happened yesterday," Gus said carefully. Bullies never liked a tattletale; he had to make sure Shawn wasn't caught in the crossfire. "Shawn's been really quiet today. He hasn't said anything, but I know something's wrong. I thought you might have seen something yesterday that could explain it."
"Dear, slaves are supposed to be quiet," his mother said with a condescending smile. "Maybe he just got worn out trying to be something he wasn't."
"Really?" Gus asked, quieting his indignation on Shawn's behalf. He gave her one more chance to tell the truth. "Absolutely nothing happened?"
Her smile dimmed, but she kept it in place as she answered, "Nothing. It was a normal day. Honestly, it's probably best for everyone -including Shawn- that your little project finally failed. It'll be much easier for him to remember his place now."
The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees as time stood still. She was lying. And she was happy that Shawn was scared.
Fury settled over Gus like an icy shield; he was done being polite. "What did you do?"
"I told you; I didn't do anything."
His voice sounded like a stranger's in his ear. "You're lying."
"What," she huffed, finally giving up her smile. "You're taking a slave's word over your own mother's?"
"Slaves can't lie," Gus lied without an ounce of guilt. "Mothers can."
She glared at him and spat out, "What did he tell you?"
"He didn't have to tell me anything." Gus stood up slowly, meeting her glare with one of his own. "Unlike you, I've actually gotten to know him. The real-him. I don't have to be told when something's wrong."
"What's 'wrong' is that you've had him for over a month and you still think that he's-"
"Enough!" He was done with her poison; she was going to listen to him for a change. "Stop treating me like a kid, I know more than you think. Shawn is a person, just like us. He deserves to be treated that way."
His mother scoffed, clearly thinking she knew better. She was never going to change. Not unless he raised the stakes to something even she couldn't sweep under the rug. He pointed towards the front door while staring her down. "I am in charge of Shawn, and that means keeping him safe. Right now? He sure as hell doesn't seem safe in this house."
Her eyes narrowed. "Surely you're not saying what I think you're saying."
"I'm saying I'm willing to take Shawn and walk out of that door if it's what's best for him. I'm smart, I have savings, and I have a full ride scholarship." Vindication fed his fury as her expression shifted; she was listening now. "It would be tight, I'd have to get a job, but we could do it. And you'd have to tell everyone who asked that you'd thought it was more important to be able to yell at a slave than to have a son."
The room was deadly silent after he finished, the tension between them so frigid that he almost expected to see ice crystals on his next exhale.
His mother's voice matched the temperature drop as she broke the silence. "Do you want to know why I yelled at your slave? Your slave was distracted all day, and I didn't say a thing. His collar was beeping constantly, and I didn't say a thing. He let the sink overflow, and I didn't say a thing. And he took that kindness, and decided it wasn't good enough."
"Shawn wouldn't-"
"No," his mother cut him off. "It's my turn. He stood up and looked me in the eye as he told me to lie to you. That was when I yelled. When he tried to drive a wedge in our family." Her eyes glistened as her composure cracked. "Apparently he didn't have to bother if you're willing to throw us away so easily."
Part of him wondered if the waterworks were fake, a much larger part didn't care. It was too busy looking for what was being left out. Shawn still hesitated before arguing even with Gus, and that was after practically being ordered to do it. He wouldn't have talked back to Gus' mother without a good reason. "What did he want you to lie about?"
"He didn't want you to know that he'd messed up." She swallowed thickly and continued with an edge to her voice. "He has you so wrapped around his little finger, he didn't want you to see that he's not the perfect person you think he is."
That still didn't make sense. Shawn had to know that Gus wouldn't care about a bit of spilled water. "What did you tell him?"
"I told him what any good mother would say. If it's a choice between keeping him and keeping my family together, then I'll choose my family every single time."
"Wait, you… you told him you'd sell him?" Gus asked, his icy shield breaking at the realization.
"I'm giving him a chance to learn his lesson," she defended herself. "Which is more than most people would do."
She couldn't do that… "He's my slave."
"He was bought with my bank account."
They glared at each other for a long second before Gus realized the impasse they were at. She probably could take Shawn away from him if she tried. But she had to know that he would leave and never look back if she did. It was a Mexican standoff, but instead of guns, it was Shawn stuck in the middle. Right where Gus hadn't wanted him.
His mother seemed to have the same realization as the angry lines on her face faded. Gus let out a long breath before asking, "So, where exactly does that leave us?"
"I suppose it means things stay the same," she answered quietly.
It didn't feel the same. There was more at stake now, and she had to be feeling the weight of it too. He hadn't wanted to ruin his relationship with her, but at this point, how much was there left to salvage?
And had he actually accomplished anything, or had the whole fight been for nothing?
He couldn't take it back, he wouldn't even if he could, but it still felt like something inside of him was breaking as he stepped away from his mother and towards his room. It was the right choice, but she wouldn't ever understand.
He hesitated before taking the next step; he didn't want to give up hope. He still had to try. Her face was a passive mask as a silent tear ran down her cheek, and he pushed back against the sympathetic tightening of his throat as he said quietly, "I just… wish you could see him like I do. You're the one who taught me to always look for the person sitting alone or the person who needed help. That's all I'm doing now."
He left the kitchen and went to check on his slave.
Shawn kept his eyes down as he walked out of the kitchen. Gus had been trying to catch his eye all morning, but he couldn't fall for that trap anymore. He had to stay good, and he had to remember his place. He'd barely survived his last master, he definitely wouldn't survive the next one if he let himself get used to being in 'Shawn-mode'.
It wasn't until he was in his master's room that he realized Gus hadn't followed him. And that was wrong, masters led and slaves followed. He shouldn't be expecting it to work the other way around.
But Gus almost always came upstairs when he was on his break…
But Gus was unhappy with him too; it wasn't just Mrs. Guster. Gus was probably glad that he didn't have to deal with his defective slave; it would explain why he'd been doing his homework downstairs. Maybe Shawn should ask for his breaks to be taken away. Then Gus wouldn't have to worry about him coming into his room throughout the day. He could have his space back.
Except slaves didn't ask for things, they did what their masters told them to do.
But where was Gus? He'd been trying to catch Shawn's eye, he clearly wanted to talk, he should be here by now… Unless he wanted to talk to someone else.
Fear rushed through Shawn, taking his breath away. Gus wanted to fight with his mother again. He usually tried to do that when Shawn wasn't in the room. And then Mrs. Guster would think that Shawn had told Gus everything, and then she'd have to sell him, and he'd never see Gus again, and he'd have a normal master who'd finally break him, and he'd fail his dad, all because he hadn't remembered his place…
He needed to know what they were saying; he needed to know how much longer he had.
Shawn crept out of the room towards the top of the stairs, feeling grateful to the architect for designing the house to have such a good eavesdropping spot. It was like the acoustics of the entire downstairs was designed to be heard in the spot he was now crouching in. He shook the distracting thoughts from his head and focused on the voices coming from the kitchen.
"...slave's word over your own mother's?"
"Slaves can't lie…"
That was a really bad start. They were clearly already arguing, and Mrs. Guster already thought he'd said something when he'd tried to do what she'd said. Second chances like this were rare. He should have worked harder to lie to Gus, he shouldn't have threatened Mrs. Guster, he shouldn't have let himself make a mess.
"What did he tell you?"
"He didn't have to tell me anything."
That was a little more hopeful. But would Mrs. Guster believe him?
"...I've actually gotten to know him. The real-him…"
The now-familiar warm feeling was back in Shawn's chest, but it wasn't supposed to be there. He was trying to remember his place, and the warmth always showed up when Gus was treating him wrong. It was a nice feeling, but so was letting his small voice out. Nice things always came back to hurt him.
The voices in the kitchen grew louder and angrier. Shawn cringed away from them, even as the warm feeling stayed stubbornly in place. Gus always had to make things harder; he couldn't just let things be. Which wasn't a good thing to think, because Gus was nice, and he deserved a slave who was grateful. And all he had was Shawn. And Shawn was totally feeling bad for a master now, which was just so wrong.
Why couldn't anything about being Gus' slave be simple…
"... right now, he sure as hell doesn't seem safe in this house."
Gus' words caught Shawn's attention, and he sat up straighter as his heart pounded. What did Gus mean? He wasn't safe anywhere… What was Gus about to do?
"I'm saying I'm willing to take Shawn and walk out of that door if it's what's best for him…"
Shawn's pounding heart stopped in his chest as he gasped for breath. Gus couldn't leave; his family was here. Family shouldn't leave. Why would he do that? Mrs. Guster was going to be so mad, why did Gus care, he was going to be sold, what did Gus want for this, why would Gus do that?
More words were being said, and he needed to listen, but it was too much. He'd made Gus unhappy, and now Gus was willing to leave his family for him. It didn't make sense, and it was wrong. Out of all the things Gus had done, from the almost-normal to the entirely insane, this blew all of them out of the water and into outer space. And vaporized them with laser beams from aliens who lived on a world where gravity pulled sideways.
What did Shawn do to deserve Gus protecting him?
"...and I didn't say a thing."
Mrs. Guster's voice was rising and Shawn forced himself to listen in again, hoping against hope that something would be said that would anchor him back to a world that made sense.
"His collar was beeping constantly, and I didn't say a thing."
He'd been distracted yesterday and had needed more reminders than usual to stay on task. He should have been better.
"He let the sink overflow, and I didn't say a thing."
Shawn's thoughts froze at the lie. She'd said something, she'd had to. He hadn't been good even before he'd made a mess, and it had interrupted her work, and she'd been frustrated, and she had to have said something… Had she said something? He squeezed his eyes shut and looked back in his memories, pressing his fingers to his temples to help him concentrate. He needed exact words…
"For Christsake, of course it had to be on a busy day…"
His shaking grew harder to control as he heard her move around and open a drawer. A towel was suddenly held out in front of him, and he stared at it blankly.
"Clean up your mess, then get back to work."
The air hardened around his ears like leather cups, blocking the sounds from the downstairs as his collar cut off his air. Shawn wheezed for breath as he checked the memory again; she really hadn't said anything.
But she would have had Gus punish him, she would have said something when he came home, she just didn't tell Shawn. Even though masters usually loved to hold punishments over his head… But she had to have been planning to tell Gus; she understood how slaves worked. She knew how slaves needed to be kept in their place. He'd had to threaten her, to protect Gus… Hadn't he?
Was this all his fault?
It was always his fault, but this felt different. He'd made a choice this time.
It had been the wrong one.
The voices of his owners were too quiet to hear anymore, but he'd heard enough. He'd heard more than enough. He'd tried to protect Gus, but that wasn't his place. He wasn't supposed to know better than the free people; he was supposed to just do as he was told. And now his master was fighting his family, and probably hurting, and it was all Shawn's fault.
Gus wouldn't be wrong to sell him. He'd been nice and had gotten nothing but trouble for it. He deserved better.
But Shawn didn't want to be sold, he needed to survive. Maybe he could run now… He was faster and stronger. But Gus still carried his remote whenever he was in the house. He was a smart master. Shawn couldn't run, but maybe he could fix things. He'd made a mistake; he could show that he knew better now. Maybe he could earn one last chance.
His decision made, Shawn went back into the bedroom to wait for his master.
Gus walked up the stairs, each step seeming to stretch for a mile as gravity pulled heavily on him. He'd made his choice, the right choice, but how much was it going to cost? He'd always thought he had a good relationship with his mother, but if all it took was one thing to break it all down, had it ever been good? Would it ever be good again?
He reached the second floor and tried to shove his worries to the side even as his heart pounded. He wasn't scared, he wasn't even angry anymore, but his body hadn't gotten the memo yet. He rested his hand over the invisible pressure in his chest and let himself take several long breaths; Shawn was good at reading him. He didn't need to worry about his master being freaked out.
His heart still hadn't slowed down after a minute of breathing, but he'd run out of time; Shawn had to know he was just standing in the hallway. It would have to be good enough. Gus opened his door, walked through, and had to fight the urge to immediately walk back out again.
Shawn was kneeling in front of the bed, his face completely blank, his head bowed, and his hands behind his back. Gus kept his feet where they were and closed the door to cut off any thoughts of retreat. Of course Shawn had listened in. And there were probably several things they'd said that would have freaked him out.
"I'm sorry sir, it was my fault." Shawn's words sounded rehearsed as he kept his head down. "I spoke out of turn, I forgot my place, I'm the reason you fought. Please punish me so I can learn from my mistakes."
"Shit," Gus couldn't stop himself from whispering. Shawn hadn't been this deep in slave-mode since their first night. A door opened and closed downstairs, and Gus listened to the drone of the garage door opening as he tried to figure out what to say. It would be so much easier to think if his head wasn't aching and his heart wasn't still trying to run away in his chest.
He needed more information. He couldn't find the right thing to say if he didn't have all of the information. "What actually happened with Mom? I know she was leaving things out."
Shawn's eyebrows scrunched together, but he answered promptly. "I made a mess, she told me to clean it up, I spoke out of turn and forgot my place. It was my fault, sir."
"Ok, but why did you speak out of turn?" Gus asked, rubbing his temples to try to push the headache back.
"I… I messed up. And she didn't punish me, and I thought…" Shawn winced and ducked his head further. "I thought she was waiting for you to come home."
"Waiting for me to come home…? Why would that… Oh." His mother had been following the rules he'd set. "You were trying to keep me from having to punish you."
"I'm sorry, sir, it wasn't my place." Shawn was talking faster now, his shoulders tensing for a hit. "A slave doesn't think, it just follows orders. Please punish me-"
"So you can learn from your mistake. Yeah, I heard you the first time." Gus groaned. "You do realize that makes no sense, right?"
"I… Don't know, sir." Shawn flinched, still tense like he was expecting pain at any second. Which hurt more than anything else had that day.
A disgusting thought occurred to Gus as he tried to think through the sharp pain in his heart: If he used the collar, Shawn would probably feel better, and they could move on from all of this.
He immediately rejected the thought, nausea adding to his headache at the fact that he'd thought it at all. Shawn had been hurt enough; he wasn't adding to that. Gus leaned into the door and slid down until he was sitting on the floor. "I'm not going to punish you."
Shawn almost seemed to stop breathing before he asked in a small voice, "Are you going to sell me?"
"What? No!" Gus stared, trying to understand what was going on in his slave's head. "Why would you think I wanted to sell you?"
"You haven't been happy, and I messed up, and I've been making your life harder, and you fought with your mother, and I haven't been what you wanted, and you've spent lots of money, and I haven't been good, and-"
"Woah, hey," Gus interrupted the word vomit so Shawn could breathe. "None of those things matter, I'm not going to sell you."
"Why not?" Shawn asked in a shaky voice, his eyes staying locked on the floor. "Y-you don't want anything, you don't even want a slave, a-and I haven't been able to be good. You haven't been happy. W-why would you keep me?"
The part of Gus that wanted to just get the conversation over with wanted to answer, 'To spite my mother.' But that wasn't what Shawn needed to hear, and it wasn't really what Gus needed to hear either. He let out a long breath and answered, "I don't want to sell you, because you'll be hurt. I don't want that. I've told you what I want, remember what it was?"
"You want me to be me," Shawn answered, so quietly Gus could barely hear it.
"That's right, and I can't exactly see you being you if I sell you, now can I?" Gus asked gently.
Shawn cringed, his shoulders coming up defensively. "I can't-" His voice broke and he squeezed his eyes closed with a grimace. "I can't," he continued even softer. "Being me is dangerous."
Gus knew his slave was dangerous, he'd stabbed people after all. But that really didn't seem to be what Shawn was talking about. It probably made him a terrible person that he didn't look for a non-question way to prompt, "Why is it dangerous?"
"Masters always-" Shawn's eyes flicked up for a microsecond before returning to his knees. "-almost always punish me when I'm me."
"I told you I'd never punish you for that," Gus pointed out, trying to see what the problem was.
"The next one will." Shawn winced as he added, "Sir."
Gus leaned his head back into the door in realization. It had to seem like an inevitability to Shawn that he'd be sold again, especially with being sold six times in five years. They were only words, but they were all Gus could offer. "I don't want to sell you. Not now, not ever."
Shawn huffed and his eyes moved to look at Gus' feet. "You've only had me for a month, sir. And you're already getting tired of me."
Wait, what? "Why would you say that?"
"You haven't been happy. I tried to be what you wanted, on the Fourth, a-and then you weren't happy."
Gus squeezed his eyes closed and called himself every insult he knew, then he made a few extras up for good measure. He was an idiot. Of course Shawn had been able to tell something had been wrong in the last few days. "That wasn't you. You did everything right." It was too much, and the added guilt tipped the scales in Gus' emotional control. His throat tightened and heat rushed into his cheeks. "I messed up, I'm sorry. You shouldn't have noticed that."
"Wh-" Shawn started to ask before stopping himself and snapping his eyes back to the ground.
'Because I care about you,' was what Gus wanted to answer as he quickly wiped his nose. He couldn't get all sniffly, who the hell knew what a slave was used to when a master started crying. "Because I'm trying to keep my problems from adding onto yours. It's a me-thing."
Shawn's eyebrows scrunched together and he looked up slowly, stopping at Gus' chest. "Y-You really aren't selling me?"
"Nope." Gus swallowed down the lump in his throat. This was just a puzzle to solve; he could do this. "You've said I'm a weird master, right? Other masters wanted to sell you; I don't."
"What happens when I can't be fixed any more?" Shawn asked, his whole body trembling. "When you can't help any more and I'm still not what you want?"
"You really think I'd sell you for that?" Gus asked exhaustedly. He'd thought they were getting to know each other better than that.
"It wouldn't be the first time."
Gus studied Shawn, trying to understand the words. As he watched, Shawn's eyes rose up to meet his, the fear in them easy to read. And Gus understood. He wasn't the only master who'd tried to 'fix' Shawn.
And Shawn saw things so skewed, he probably didn't know how, or if, they were different. Gus let out a breath and realized there was an important question he'd never actually asked Shawn, one that Shawn probably wouldn't have been able to answer at first. He might be able to answer it now.
"I've been pushing you to be different… Do you like what we've been doing?"
"Slaves don't-"
"I'm not asking about slaves," Gus corrected him. "I'm asking about you."
Shawn hesitated, his eyes never leaving Gus' even as they unfocused in thought. Gus stayed quiet and waited. It would have been nice if Shawn had been able to answer the question immediately, but at least he was willing to think about it even while he was still on his knees.
Shawn's eyes refocused and he let out a shaky breath. "Y-yes. I… it's good."
"Ok, then," Gus said as relief crashed through him; it probably would have killed him if Shawn had said no. He stood up slowly and blinked back the tears that were filling his eyes. "We'll keep doing what we've been doing, then. And I promise, no matter what, I won't sell you."
Shawn nodded in a small, jerky motion, and Gus walked over to him, slowly holding out his hand. Shawn studied him for a second before reaching out to take it, and Gus pulled him to his feet.
He looked Shawn in the eye as he said, "I want you to be you, no matter who that is. Don't worry about who you think I want you to be."
Shawn squinted his eyes at him before tentatively asking, "So… You want me to be me, not the me you want me to be?"
Gus stared at him for a long moment before admitting, "It made more sense in my head."
Shawn huffed a quiet laugh, and Gus smiled back. It was small, but it felt like a promise that things would get better. "Mom's gone, so you don't have to worry about her for a bit. Want a movie?"
"A movie sounds good," Shawn said, his relief clear in his voice.
"I restocked snacks." Gus nodded towards the closet as he turned to his desk. "Go ahead and pick out what you want."
"Yes, sir."
Gus looked up quickly to rescind the order, only to see Shawn give him a small smile before ducking his head and walking to the closet. Gus shook his head with a small smile of his own and loaded the disk for The Princess Bride into his computer.
It had been a long day, there were still so many uncertainties to deal with, and it wasn't even lunch time yet. But at least some things were still the same. Gus sat on the bed at the same time as Shawn, and they shared a large bag of funyons as they watched a movie together.