A/N: Sorry for the later upload. I ended up laying in bed and posted this chapter to AO3 on my phone last week. You can't post from your phone on FFN, so I figured I'd wait until I was at a computer... And then I forgot. Thanks, ADHD! So I hope you guys enjoy a double post this week, sorry again!

Something had changed the night Gus had his nightmare. It wasn't a change that was tangible enough to point out, but something had shifted between him and Shawn. And it seemed like it had shifted in the right direction.

They both managed to get a couple more hours of sleep that night, and the comic shop trip was a success the next day. Both of them had new things to read now. But, more than that, Shawn had been able to choose which type of comic he was interested in and had answered Gus' questions as himself instead of with his slave mannerisms. They'd gotten a few curious glances in the shop, but Gus had known what to expect from his people. Unless it was someone arguing canon, geeks weren't likely to start a fight. They'd managed to get through the whole outing without anyone telling them to act more socially acceptable.

The experience made it easier to forgive his parents for putting Shawn through another stressful situation. He actually enjoyed dinner with them that night and church the next day was tolerable. He didn't even have to lie when he said he'd had a good weekend when they dropped him and Shawn off at the dorms the next day.

That week, Gus focused on his new goal: figuring out how to relax. Which was why he was now sitting in the library with his backpack at his feet and a new comic on the table. It was unfortunately not as easy to enjoy himself as he'd hoped. There was still homework looming over him, things he could look up for Shawn, pressures in his head that told him he couldn't succeed unless he was the smartest person in the room...

The comic seemed almost trite in comparison, as Spirit gave witty one-liners during a bar fight. Here Gus was, relaxing like he had nothing better to do, while Shawn was on his knees less than half a mile away, at the mercy of a jerk. He deserved better. He deserved to not have to wait on Gus to finish his homework in the evening, he deserved someone who'd take the time to research more about recovery, he deserved more. Was Gus' time really worth that much to be wasting it like this?

If nothing else, it gave him a better understanding of what had driven Shawn's freakout on the first day of classes… But Gus was doing this for Shawn, just as much for himself. So he focused on the brightly-colored pictures and the cheesy dialogue and tried to force himself to relax as his inner voice berated him.

The clock slowly ticked down the hour as Gus slowly turned the pages of the comics, the bag of homework staying stationary on the ground.

It was near the end of the week when Gus realized they were falling into a routine. Dropping Shawn off at the janitor's closet was becoming easier, Shawn was acting more comfortable during their downtimes, and the cheaper meals made it so Shawn ate at Gus' feet in the dining hall nearly every night. It wasn't a good routine, Gus still wanted to punch the wall whenever Shawn talked about being disciplined with the collar, but it was becoming normal.

After coming to that realization, he started putting plans into place to keep them from becoming comfortable in that normal. Even though they were surviving through the new routine, it couldn't ever be allowed to settle. Which was why he had a new rule for Shawn, starting that Friday.

"You know how it still takes you a bit to switch modes?" Gus asked after Shawn had been himself for an hour.

"Yeah…?" Shawn answered warily.

"Don't worry, you're not in trouble." The way the corners of Shawn's eyes relaxed told Gus the reassurance had been needed. "I just want to try to help with that. So here's a new rule, or boundary, or whatever you want to call it." Gus pointed at their door. "Whenever you walk through that door and you're in this room, you don't need to have any slave expectations. It doesn't matter if someone else knocks on the door, or can look in, or if I'm pissed, or any of that. When you're in here, you're Shawn. Full stop."

Shawn's hands stilled from where they'd been practicing shuffling cards. "You said it was ok if I had to do slave things."

Damnit, he should have thought his explanation through better. "Yeah, and you can still do that. I mean…" His mind went blank on how to explain his idea so Shawn would understand. Why did these things always have to be complicated? "Ok, you know that I've been researching how to help you be on your own, right?"

"Right..."

"Well, one of the suggestions I've read a few times is to have certain cues for when you need to be in certain modes. Like how people who work from home do better when they have a set place for work."

Shawn tilted his head to the side and thoughtfully fanned the cards out in his hands. "Like how it's easier for me to be good when you give me orders."

That really hadn't been the type of cues Gus had been thinking of, but at least it seemed to be helping. "Sort of. But I want things that can help you go the other way too. So, our room is a safe spot. Hard boundary, I don't care what anyone else says, it's not their space. If you choose to do slave things, that's fine. But I don't want that pressure to be from the outside."

"I… can try." Shawn pushed the cards back together into an uneven stack.

"That's all I'm asking. You don't have to do it perfectly." Gus watched as Shawn cut the deck and shuffled them back together again. "You've gotten better at that. Want to go a few rounds of poker?"

Shawn huffed a laugh, clearly recognizing the peace offering for what it was. Gus never won at poker. "Sure. Candy for the chips?"

Gus grabbed a box of taffy from his desk and tossed it between them. "You know that's right."

Riding the success from their last outing, Gus took Shawn to a historical museum the next day. It was small and tucked away from the tourist crowds. Perfect for easing them into busier events.

The entryway was dark when they stepped through the old wooden door. As Gus' eyes adjusted, he saw several rusted stanchions with faded velvet ropes that kept the non-existent crowds in line. He followed the zig-zagging corridor to an old man who was sitting behind a register.

"Hello," Gus said, bracing himself for the inevitable argument about Shawn. "Two tickets, please."

The man eyed up Shawn as he took Gus' card and rang up his purchase. "You know, we have-"

"Somewhere to keep him. I know, and I don't care." Gus rolled his eyes as he took the tickets. Why were people so obsessed with slaves being put away? …And where were slaves put away? The building seemed too crowded with stuff to have a dedicated room for that.

The man shrugged at Gus' response and waved them through the turnstile. "Whelp, I hope you both enjoy your visit." He gave Gus a grin that showed several missing teeth. "Afterall, there's plenty of his kind in this town's history too."

Gus glared before walking into the museum, not even dignifying the ridiculous statement with an answer.

An hour later, while watching a harried mother try to keep her toddler from climbing on the displays, Shawn quietly informed him, "Fun fact. The word 'slave' has only shown up five times so far. Most of them for slave trade. But the word 'labor' has been used one-hundred and twenty-two times."

Gus nodded with a sigh; he'd noticed the same thing.

The next week was strangely quiet on campus as everyone studied for their midterms. Students could be found in the floor's lounge at all times of day and night, blearily scanning notes, building models, or quizzing a friend. What little progress Gus had made on forcing himself to relax was lost as he deep dived into all of his notes, and Shawn of all people had to remind him when it was time to eat.

But even with all of the added stress, Gus made sure to always pick up Shawn from his work as early as possible. Rowan caught him in the hallway halfway through the week and joined him as they went downstairs. For the fifteen minutes they had to wait for the slaves to be done, they managed to have a whole conversation without Gus abruptly ending it. It had actually been nice to be able to complain about the coursework and some of the dining hall's less successful meals. They weren't the type of things he could say around Shawn without feeling like an asshole.

The slaves were handing over their tools when Rowan asked, "Are you taking English Lit this semester?"

"Yeah." Gus kept an eye on Shawn, automatically scanning him for any noticeable injuries.

"I swear, that paper is going to kill me… How can anyone write three thousand words analyzing a book? The lady died, the family was a dysfunctional mess, and her coffin was 'bevelled' which apparently just means there was an angle to it. Done."

Gus snorted at the summary. "Not a big reader, are you?"

"People always gave me books growing up and I just… found better things to do." Rowan shrugged as the janitor took his time digging out a tin of chewing tobacco before walking away. "Math is easy. Input, output, it's always the same. But literature is always false in some way, and we're supposed to find truth in it. At least nonfiction has things to learn, even if you have to cross check it and look for bias."

"Fiction can have things to learn too. You just have to look at it differently." Gus let the conversation drop as he led them over to the kneeling slaves.

Rowan didn't get the memo and kept the conversation going anyway. "Yeah? So which book are you writing about?"

Gus put up a finger. "Give me a minute. Shawn, stand up."

Rowan gave orders to Penny as Shawn stood up, and Gus moved the leash to the front of the collar. He nodded at Shawn's small glance of acknowledgement and said, "Follow me."

He led Shawn away, and Rowan quickly caught up with Penny trailing behind them. "Is my minute up yet?"

"I'm doing the Taming of the Shrew," Gus answered, glancing back to see Shawn and Penny walking side by side.

"Ugh. I hated that one. 'This is what a woman is. This is what a man is. Never ever ever ever try to be something that you're not.'" Rowan spat out the last word in a rare sign of anger. They sighed and added, "We might still be a bit screwed up now, but at least we've moved on from that."

Gus thought about the clear divide between people and slaves and privately disagreed. "Here I thought you liked absolutes."

"No, I like predictability. There's a difference."

Gus stopped in front of Rowan's door. "Then maybe that's what you need to write your paper on."

"Huh." Rowan stared off in thought before admitting, "Maybe you're right. Damn, there's five hundred words of perfectly good bullshit down the drain… Good luck with your studying."

"You too." Gus continued down the hall, noticing Shawn looking back to watch the other slave go. He always seemed to be staring after Penny… Gus filed that thought away for later as he asked, "Did you get hurt?"

"He only used the collar three times," Shawn answered promptly, almost sounding proud. Their world was messed up.

"Could be worse. I rescind all orders." Gus led Shawn into their room and closed the door to anyone who might think there was an absolute way for a slave to act.

The weekend took forever to arrive, and Gus still needed to finish his paper before Monday. It was the last hurdle before the avalanche of tests and projects was done.

"What if Kate had been a slave…?" Shawn read over his shoulder on Saturday morning.

"Yep," Gus confirmed as he typed another line before promptly deleting it again. "The TA said to be creative…"

"You do remember this is like half of your grade, right?"

It was impressive that Shawn remembered that. "I know. I don't care."

"...You're not going to change anyone's mind with it."

Gus sighed and changed one of his words to a stronger verb. "I know that too. But I'm not going to just be quiet about it."

"Why not?"

Shawn sounded genuine, and it was worth taking time from writing to answer. Gus turned around as he tried to find the best way to explain. "I never thought about all of this before, you know? Not before I met you. And if I could change, because someone showed me better, then maybe there's hope for other people to change too."

Shawn looked at him thoughtfully before seeming to realize that Gus was having to look up at him to keep eye contact. He smoothly stepped back and sat on the corner of the bed as he asked, "And you're going to do that with a paper that only one person is going to read?"

"It's a start." It was good practice; he didn't trust himself to be able to speak up in a crowd just yet.

"Uh-huh…" Shawn said with a disbelieving look on his face. "Again, I'll point out, this is half of your grade."

"Yup." Gus spun in his chair and started typing again, adding another paragraph to his arguments. "I know it sucks that you're stuck here today, but I've got a plan for us tonight." He pulled out a sheet he'd printed in the library and held it out.

Shawn took it and his eyebrows immediately went up. "Hot air balloon fest?"

"You can tell me if you'd prefer something else." Gus grabbed his book to find a quote, using it as an excuse to look away and give Shawn some space. "It's just an idea. It'll be a decent amount of people and it'll be dark, which will be new."

"Just like Scare Fest," Shawn said knowingly.

He should have known that his motivations would be that transparent. "... Yeah. We won't go unless you say you want to."

Gus managed to get another hundred words written before Shawn said, "Ok."

Gus' fingers stilled over the keyboard; he'd honestly been expecting Shawn to take the out. "Really?"

Shawn looked between him and the computer before answering more confidently, "Yeah. I want to go."

"Ok. I guess I've got to get this done before dinner." Gus smiled at Shawn and was rewarded with a small smile back.

"I guess so." Shawn stood up and walked off, and Gus heard him settling back down on his sleeping bag.

Shawn had already spent most of his morning just sitting in the corner, but it wasn't anything that Gus could fight against. His attention needed to be on his paper and on letting Shawn do whatever he was comfortable doing. That was the hidden second boundary that he'd set a week ago. Shawn had full autonomy in their room, which meant Gus backing off on pushing him to do things differently. It was a hard tightrope to walk, letting Shawn have his choice while also not giving up on teaching him that he didn't have to act like a slave. For now, the boundary and offering choices with outs were the best he could do.

He was another two-hundred words closer to the end of the paper when he heard Shawn move again. His curiosity piquing, he couldn't help but glance back. His heart warmed when he saw that Shawn had grabbed the Criminology book and was flipping through the pages.

Shawn had his choice, and he'd chosen against his slave-conditioning.

Things weren't perfect, but they seemed to be getting better.

The hot air balloon festival was bigger than Gus had anticipated. He'd expected five or six balloons and a handful of food carts. What they got was a partially full parade ground and what looked like every balloon that called Southern California its home. The soft pink and purples of the fading sunset was broken up by rainbows and patterns and odd shapes that glowed as flames filled them from the inside.

Gus looked back nervously as they drew closer to the display and the crowds thickened. This hadn't been what they'd signed up for; it had to be too much, too fast. Except Shawn was still doing his typical fast glances up, and his thumb was just visibly rubbing over his knuckles as he clasped his hands in front of him. He seemed nervous, but not freaking out. Which was extremely promising.

Gus still found the first quiet nook he could to take Shawn out of the crowd and double check, "Are you doing ok? All you have to say is 'too much' and we'll leave."

"I'm ok," Shawn answered, barely loud enough to hear over the ambient sound of the surrounding people. "Thirty-six hats and counting. More if you count beanies." He gave Gus a shaky smile and added, "I like the animal balloons."

Gus grinned back in relief. "Did you see the dragon one? It has wings."

He hadn't been to a balloon fest in years; a few wildfire scares had effectively shut them down until recently. In that time, it seemed that hot air balloon technology had grown. There were still plenty of traditional striped and colored balloons, but there were even more with strange patterns and shapes, an eclectic mix of art, fantasy, and pop culture.

"It's pretty dope," Shawn agreed.

"Is it too much, or are you good to keep going?"

One of the closer balloons let out a loud whoosh as the burner activated, and Shawn jumped at the sound. He stared nervously at it before glancing back at Gus, the orange fire flickering in his eyes. "Y-Yeah. I'm good to keep going."

"Ok." He had to trust Shawn's word, even if it seemed like it'd be better to just turn around now. "But tell me if that changes. Or, if you can't say it, just let the leash go tight. I won't drag you around."

Shawn visibly relaxed as he smirked and answered, "Yes, sir."

Gus made a face but didn't take back the order as he led them back to the crowds again. The collar had blinked red, and Shawn had told him orders sometimes helped. It seemed like he needed that help right now.

The balloons were even more impressive up close, towering above them in a kaleidoscope of color. They passed a polar bear holding a glass bottle, a large cat face, and an image of a man on a rearing horse silhouetted against a sunset. A rocket was neighbors with saturn, rings and all, and one of the owners seemed to have a sense of humor considering they brought a balloon shaped like a fire extinguisher. Heat washed across Gus' face as another burner went off and a logo glowed through the darkening sky. He scowled at the blocky letters of the company that made the slave collars and quickly walked past it. Tonight was for relaxing, not rage.

The only other slaves he saw as they walked were the ones trailing behind their owners on leashes, often with a kid perched on their hip or shoulders. The litter-free ground spoke of city slaves being hidden somewhere nearby, but the crowds were heavy enough that they must have been considered a nuisance. Gus sighed when he remembered seeing a panel van parked behind one of the food stalls. It would figure that the slaves wouldn't even be allowed to enjoy the view while they waited for the people to disperse.

At least Shawn was able to enjoy the view. Anytime Gus checked on him, he'd either be looking at the balloons in fascination or shying away from people who were too close. Over the time it took them to walk the length of the parade grounds, he'd also shortened the distance between them. Instead of trailing two steps behind, he walked right behind Gus' shoulder, close enough that they sometimes bumped together when he flinched.

Gus found an area to stop and said over the sound of another burner going off, "We've seen them all; we can go now."

"It's st-still not dark yet," Shawn answered as he edged closer.

Several people stopped nearby to admire the view. Gus stayed quiet to keep their conversation private. "You don't have to prove anything to me, you know."

"Kimble proved himself, even though he didn't have to."

"Yes he did…" Gus gave Shawn a Look. He knew the Fugitive better than that. "He literally had to prove he was innocent before the FBI could catch him."

"I've heard it both ways," Shawn shot off quickly.

"You have not." It was promising that Shawn was having a fake-argument out in the open, but it still didn't make sense. "What's actually wrong?"

Shawn sighed loudly before saying, "I… want to go to ScareFest."

A group of children raced by with glowing necklaces wrapped around their arms as Gus tried to understand the answer. "Ok… What does that– Oh."

If Gus thought Shawn couldn't handle a regular crowded event, then it would stand to reason that they wouldn't go to the even bigger event. Except Shawn had just stated his opinion, without stuttering, in a crowd, in a new place. He reallywanted to go to ScareFest. "Then we'll go. You don't have to prove anything now for that to happen."

"I'm ok," Shawn answered stubbornly.

"Ok." Gus let the conversation drop, politely not pointing out how he could feel Shawn's body heat, they were standing so close. Like Shawn thought Gus was the only thing keeping the bad things away. The realization made Gus feel powerful, but in a way that a slight breeze could collapse the whole house of cards.

He looked around for an escape from the emotions and found it in a sign that said, 'Tethered balloon rides, $15.'

He immediately dismissed the idea –his feet belonged firmly on the ground, thank you very much– but his eyes kept gravitating towards the sign. There was only one other person in line right now, and it was affordable, and who knew when or if Shawn had ever been in a balloon before… But that basket really didn't look sturdy and the tether was still plenty long enough to be dangerous, and what if the whole balloon caught on fire?

It would let Shawn look around without worrying about the crowds.

He didn't have any right to let his fear dictate what they did when Shawn was fighting through his fears too. Especially since Shawn's fears were much more legit. Gus nodded towards the sign and forced his mouth to say, "Want to try that?"

Shawn's jaw dropped. "Really?"

"Yeah. I mean, there's going to be rides at ScareFest too." Rides that were put together by slaves overnight, and barely tested by the inspectors, and had a kid nearly fall out of one just last year… "We could get the full experience."

"You don't–" A loud man walked by, talking to his family and gesticulating broadly with his hands, nearly hitting Shawn in the process. Shawn shied away and spoke quietly, right behind Gus' ear. "You don't have to prove anything either."

Yes, he did. "I know I don't. So what do you want to do?"

Shawn's hesitation was obvious before he answered, "Ok… Let's go flying."

Cold sweat broke out on Gus' hands. "Yeah, let's go flying…"

Darkness loomed over them by the time it was their turn for the balloon ride. Gus trembled as he held out his money, and the basket seemed to sway under his feet when he stepped in. Why had he thought this was a good idea?

The basket shifted again as Shawn followed and the operator asked, "He's comin' with?"

"Yeah, he's coming with." The operator was an idiot if he thought Gus would do this on his own.

"You sure? The basket's gonna move a bit and the burner's loud and hot. It's enough to spook any of 'em."

It was enough to spook him. But Shawn wanted to go, and that was all that mattered. "He'll be fine." Gus set his jaw and glared at the operator. "Are we going to have a problem?"

The operator shrugged with an unimpressed look. "I don't care; same money either way. Just makin' sure he won't panic. Hold on…"

Heat washed along the back of Gus' neck with a loud roar as the basket creaked and lifted from the ground. And oh god, this did not feel safe. Everything around them was flammable, exactly how structurally sound was the basket? How often did they check the rope, what if termites got in? What if there was a leak in the balloon, what if he leaned over too far, what if the aliens came by and they were the closest humans to their ship?

The burner activated again, pulling Gus from his spiral, and he remembered he wasn't alone in the flying deathtrap.

Shawn seemed to be doing better than him, but he flinched every time the flame went off behind them. Gus' feet were anchored in place and his hands were glued to the edge of the basket, but another loud rush of heat convinced him that he had to move. Shawn needed help.

He couldn't move too much though.

Gus slid his feet over and carefully kept his eyes on Shawn and nowhere near the ground that was now hundreds of miles below them. His hand was harder to move, but he remembered how Shawn had stayed close to him for safety and forced his palm away from the solid wicker.

Shawn nodded quickly when he saw the movement and his flinch was barely noticeable when Gus clasped his shoulder. The burner went off again, and Shawn winced. "S-Sorry. Fire's not bad bad, but it's… not good."

Damnit, he should have thought of that. "You're fine. You're doing good."

The muscles under his hand relaxed at his words, and Shawn nodded below as the operator actively ignored them. "You might wanna look."

Gus whined quietly in the back of his throat, but he couldn't say no to Shawn. He reluctantly looked down and saw every balloon lit up at the same time. The light and colors bled into the surrounding darkness, making the fairgrounds look like a fantasy world. It also lit up the ground and made it obvious just how high up they were.

Oh god, they were going to die.

He forced his gaze up to somewhere safer and saw Shawn leaning over the edge to get a better view. Gus tightened his hand on his shoulder; he couldn't let him fall. Shawn glanced over, the warm light from the burner casting shadows across his small smirk. Gus gave him a shaky smile back and kept his weight firmly in the basket. Shawn wasn't afraid, so it was ok.

Mostly.

The burner grew quiet behind them, taking the heat and light with it. Gus focused on the warmth under his hand and on the bubble of peace surrounding them as they floated above the world. It was fleeting, but for just a moment they were away from the stressors that told them how to act and who to be. They were free.

"Hey, Gus?" Shawn asked quietly, never looking away from the sights below them.

"Yeah?"

"I'm glad we're friends."

The fear finally quieted as Gus answered, "I'm glad we're friends too."