#the theory sinks when Steve gets hurt in the Upside Down and there's no healing from their soulmate.

[twpsyn-who]

You guys know my deeply rotted hate for Harringroveson, BUT this won't leave my mind and I need to share before I. Lose. It.

Soulmates AU where you feel each other's pain/share the same wounds (the idea is "you get hurt and your soulmate takes care of your wounds, then they heal on your body too" or something along the lines). Steve got used to the pain coming from his soulmate, burning under his skin. It was daily, but got better when he got into middle school. Billy got comfort in knowing that his soulmate was going through the same pain as him, twisted as it was (but it stooped when he got in middle school, instead his soulmate trying to heal Billy's own pain and he didn't knew what to do with that besides hurting more and more and more). And Eddie has been suffering for most of his childhood, until he moved with his uncle and swore to himself to help his soulmate heal and never get hurt again/add more to the pain that was already there.

Now imagine the fighting scene between Steve and Billy only... Billy feels pain in the same place he punched Steve. With every punch and kick he feels the same pain as Steve must feel at the moment.

Is not that what stops him from hitting Steve, though. Is the fact that someone was taking care of their wounds while they were fighting.

[platypanthewriter]

Growth

Harringrove April prompt 27: Growth! Max really wants Steve to know Billy's changed.  Steve has doubts...at first, until he and Billy get a chance to talk.  Also, yay, touchstarved AU.

“Sooooo Billy’s been getting better, you say,” Dustin said loudly, as he climbed into the passenger seat, and Max climbed in behind Steve.

She groaned.  “Yes!” she said, like Dustin was deaf, leaning around to yell in Steve’s ear.  “He’s much better.”

“Why are you yelling,” Steve muttered, leaning to see through the back, so he could back out of the parking space.  

“Since he saved El,” Dustin practically shouted at Steve, and he eased off the gas to stare over.  “He saved her,” Dustin said again, like this was news.  “Billy did,” he added, like Steve was maybe brain-damaged, or Max had forgotten about her brother landing in the hospital.

“I know,” Steve told him, raising his eyebrows.  “I remember.”

“He saved El,” Max said, and Steve stared at her in the rearview mirror, until a thought occurred to him, and his eyes narrowed.

“...are you two high,” he asked, sniffing the air, and Max punched him in the shoulder.  

“No!” she shouted, kicking his seat.

“Hrm,” he said, pulling out of the parking lot, but keeping a wary eye on both of them, and then...Steve started to put the clues together.  “Holy shit, wait, are you from the future?  Trying to figure out the, y’know, the timeline.  Oh my god, can you go through time in the Upside-Down?!”

“Shut up, Steve,” Max sighed heavily, her face smushed into the back of his seat.  

“I mean, it’d be worth a try,” Dustin said, brightening, and Steve sighed with Max, disappointed.  

“We were talking about my brother,” she said, flatly, like Steve had tired her out.  

“Why?!” Steve asked bluntly, turning on the road towards the Wheeler’s.  “Because he hasn’t given anybody a concussion recently?”

“...three months since the last head injury incident,” Dustin whispered, snickering, and Max smacked his shoulder, growling like her brother.  

“He’s better,” she hissed, thumping back against her seat, and crossing her arms.

“Uh, yeah, yeah he is,” Dustin said, grimacing, and Steve stared over at him, and into the rearview at Max, and came very close to running a red light.

“What is going on with you two,” he breathed, staring between them, and starting to wonder about weirder theories, like doppelgangers, or possession.  “Shit, can the Mindflayer get two people now?”

“...I’m telling him it’s hopeless,” Max said, looking at Dustin, and he grimaced, and sighed.

Steve couldn’t stop wondering what the hell that was about, and the next time he had a few hours, he drove down to the pool, and watched Billy’s water aerobics class—which he knew he was in, because now that he thought about it, Max talked about Billy a lot.  He did look better, Steve thought grudgingly, for a given of ‘last time I saw this person, he had a hole in him the size of a basketball hoop.’  

It was hard to imagine him having changed enough to warrant Max’s unending praises, and Steve clenched his fists, remembering Billy’s fists hitting his face, and the way Max had flinched away from her brother’s hands.

He wandered back into the locker rooms, biting his lips.  

Since the water aerobics class was mostly grandmas, Billy wandered back in alone, and shuffled into the shower to lean against the post in the center.  His legs shook, a little, and Steve felt kinda shitty all of a sudden for just standing there watching.  The bench was hard as hell anyway—and what was he even gonna say, he asked himself, groaning.  

He stood up, brushing his pants off automatically, and then he heard Billy’s voice say “...Steve Harrington?”

“...no?” Steve tried, turning around with a grimace, and Billy snorted a laugh, shampooing his hair.  

“The hell are you doing in here?  Dressed?”

“Hrm,” said Steve, wondering about that himself.  Billy did look so much better, Steve could see Max’s fascinated relief.  He could stand and take a shower, the water running over his muscles, even if he needed to lean one hand on the showerhead post while he washed his hair.  His scars were thick and ropey, but healed—and as Steve thought it, he realized Billy was working his jaw, a little, glancing at Steve’s face.  

With a sinking feeling of guilt, Steve grimaced, trying to imagine how he’d feel if he made it through something like that, and then people stared at him in the shower.  

“My scars gonna give you nightmares, Harrington?” Billy asked, laughing a little breathlessly, and gripping the showerhead post.  

“What?! No!” Steve said, making a face, realizing that was worse, feeling his face heat at the teasing tone of Billy’s voice, and deciding on a distraction.  He dropped his eyes about a foot and a half.  “Just pitying you, man, I never noticed your tiny-ass dick before.”  He grinned, proud of himself, as Billy stared over.

“What,” he said flatly.

"I guess you're a grower," Steve said, eyeing Billy's dick. "I guess? Or is it just that size?  Too bad, man," he finished the killing blow, only to have Billy start laughing so hard he staggered, and Steve ran in to grab his arm, steadying him down to the ground.

“Oh my god,” he wheezed.  “What the fuck, Harrington.  Brutal.” 

“Sorry,” Steve said, grimacing, and starting to snicker along.  “Sorry, I just—I wasn’t thinking anything shitty about your scars, I just...figured that was better?”

“Is it, though?” Billy cackled, leaning on one arm and panting, his eyes shut tightly against his dripping shampoo.  “Is it really?”

Steve laughed harder, grimacing again as he watched Billy try to stay upright, the arm he was leaning on shaking.  “Scoot to your left,” he told him, “—get back in the shower spray, I’ll help you with your hair.  I’ll be right back.”

“...how long am I supposed to wait,” Billy muttered, wincing as he tried to scoot himself along the sandpapery anti-slip floor.

“Just a sec,” Steve said, backing out of the showers, with an eye on Billy Hargrove, in case he drowned.

The floor at the pool was familiarly pebbled and rough as Steve pulled off his shoes and socks.  He yanked his shirt off for good measure, tossing it on the bench, and then walked back in.  “Okay, I’m gonna spray you in the face,” he said, and Billy sputtered a “What,” as Steve stuck his hand under the showerhead, and directed it onto Billy’s hairline, to rinse the shampoo off his face.  

“...oh shit, thanks,” he muttered, scrubbing at his face, and Steve held the water there while he rinsed and wiped his eyes.  

“You want me to help you get back under the shower?” Steve asked, once Billy’d blinked and squinted around a little, and Billy shot him a glare.  

“I think you better,” he huffed.  “Come in here and insult my dick.  Makes us ev—” he winced, and stopped, sighing.  “...sorry about all the shit I did last fall.  Showing up at the Byers, and...everything.  Max said you were okay,” he said slowly, glancing up.  He looked tired.

“Oh,” said Steve, startled.  “Uh.  Sorry I insulted your dick.”

Billy snorted a laugh, shaking his head, and Steve turned the shower off, stepping in to yank Billy up and help him stagger back under where he could finish washing his hair.  The shampoo was starting to drip into his face again, and Steve crouched to wipe it off with his thumbs, feeling Billy laugh against his hands.  He was bracing himself with both arms, and Steve was feeling doubtful.  

“You got this, man?”

“Just need to sit for a while,” Billy muttered.  “...long night.  You can go—”

“I’m not leaving you lying on the floor,” Steve told him, indignant.  “Come on, man, I’ll wash your hair.”

“What,” Billy said, but Steve ignored him, turning the water back on, and squirting more shampoo into his hand, because he’d seen Billy only get half his head while Steve made him laugh so hard he sat down.  

The shower soaked into his slacks, and he grimaced, but there were scars all up Billy’s hunched shoulders, too, and he was trembling with the effort of staying upright, so Steve tried to focus on working the suds through his hair.  Billy’s curls clung to his fingers, and Billy flinched, sometimes, when Steve lifted a hand away to wash a new part of his head, so Steve started narrating.  “Gonna rinse around your ear,” he said, and Billy tilted his head obediently, clenching his hands against the floor.  

“That’s good.  Now around your face,” Steve said, like he was helping with Holly Wheeler’s bath, but bathing a person of any size seemed about the same, really—Billy was heavier to help in, but at least Steve didn’t have to keep distracting him with squeaky hedgehog toys.  He tipped Billy’s chin up, shielding his eyes, and Billy sighed, shivering, his head heavy in Steve’s hands.  

“...you need conditioner?” Steve asked, frowning around, and Billy swallowed—unhelpfully—but then Steve found the bottle, rolled against the shower post, and began working it through the length of Billy’s curls.  Billy’s hands twitched and shook, and Steve wondered how the hell he was getting home, even if Steve got him out of the shower and dressed.  

His breathing was going weird, gaspy and uneven, and Steve started to worry he was hurting him, somehow.  He slowed down, a little, gentling his touches, and Billy pulled his knees up, hugging them to his chest.  

“Shit,” he mumbled, panting.  His skin was red even for in the shower, and finally, Steve got it.

“...shit, dude, you been lonely, huh,” he said, laughing.

“Shut the fuck up,” Billy laughed, groaning into his knees.  

“Shutting up, just keeping on with my sexy, sexy shampoo job,” Steve told him, letting his fingers linger as he cupped water up the back of Billy’s head to rinse the conditioner out, and Billy made a strangled noise into his hands.  

“Fuck you,” he moaned.  “Why are you even here,” and Steve laughed, putting his hand over Billy’s eyes to tip his face into the spray again.  

“Max said you’d...changed, I dunno,” Steve told him, feeling the odd sensation of someone else’s stubble under his hands as he held Billy’s chin, rinsing the sides of his head.  “She kept saying it like I was supposed to care, you know.  Thought I’d see what was going on.”

“...and?” Billy asked, softly, as Steve splashed some water on his hunched-up collarbones, trying to rinse the conditioner all the way off.

“Shit, I dunno,” Steve told him, laughing.  “Talked to you for like ten minutes, and I don’t think you, y’know, uh, I don’t think you grew exactly the way she meant.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Billy groaned into his hands, curling up tighter, and Steve snickered.  

“Guess it’s a little...frustrating, recovery from something like that,” he whispered, and Billy elbowed him, laughing.

“Go to hell!”

“That’s the Billy Hargrove I remember,” Steve said, handing him the soap.  “Here, finish up whatever, I’m gonna find your locker and get your clothes out.  You need a ride?”

Billy stared at him, head cocked away from the water.  “...that’s it?” he whispered.

“What?” Steve asked, feeling like he was being pretty nice, all things considered.  “You want something else?”

“...no,” Billy said, looking down at the soap.

Steve wandered off, trying not to listen as Billy took care of his little problem.  Not that little, he thought, remembering his assessment of Billy’s dick, and snickering guiltily as he opened lockers, trying to Sherlock Holmes it based on water trails, but the whole floor was wet, and he didn’t see any wet handprints glinting helpfully in the lights.  

By the time he wandered back, Billy had his legs sprawled, his cock properly limp and unobtrusive between them, and Steve turned the shower off and half-carried him to a bench.  He sat down while Billy dried his hair and toes and struggled with socks, and then couldn’t watch anymore.  He crouched down and put Billy’s shoes on, tying them for him, and helped him with his shirt.  Billy was swaying a little by that point, his eyes drifting shut, and Steve thought maybe it hadn’t been a good idea to encourage him to jack off in the shower, even if he’d probably sleep like a log.  

“C’mere, Billy,” he said, scooping him up, and Billy sighed against his ear.  

“...sorry,” he mumbled.  “S’ry ‘bout my dick.”

“Your dick is your problem, buddy,” Steve told him, hefting him up again as he walked.  “And whoever you’re dating, I guess.”

“...fuck you,” Billy whispered.  “Fuck you, ‘s…’s’okay.”

“Yeah, it’s an okay dick,” Steve reassured him, unable to believe he was having this conversation.  A woman stared at them as he tried to unlock his car, and he beamed back at her, half-tempted to do something outrageous, like start barking dick measurements, but she harrumphed and wandered off.

“Still got my mouth,” Billy mumbled sleepily, as Steve loaded him into the car.  “An’ my asshole.  ‘F’you don’t like my dick.”

“Your dick’s fine,” Steve told him, sliding the seatbelt around him, and starting to blush as hard as Billy’d been, because what the fuck.

“S’a grower,” Billy said.

“Yeah, yeah, you grow, I get it,” Steve agreed.  “Super impressed, man.”

That seemed to wake Billy up again, a little, and he watched Steve get in the car.  “...is that what Max said?  That’s why you’re being so nice.  No,” he laughed, grimacing.  “Max said you’ve always been nice.  Shit.”

“...I haven’t,” Steve said, starting up the car.  “I mean, I had to grow up some.  Too.”  

Billy nodded, slowly, biting his lips together.  

It wouldn’t be so bad, Steve thought, to swing by and see Billy again.  Have another dude around who knew what Hawkins was like, and who seemed...kind of cool, now, now that he wasn’t being such a prick.  “I’m glad you’re okay, man,” Steve told him, honestly, and Billy’s smile was quick and bright.

“Yeah, back at you,” he said, sighing.  

He slept for the rest of the ride.

Here are my other Harringrove April prompts!