#-WRITE 960 WORDS IN 3 HRS. WHERE WAS THIS ENERGY FOR THE WHUMP PROMPTS“

[sidesteppostinghours]

1 for the fhr prompts? :3

prompts from here!

HI I STARTED WRITING THIS THE MINUTE I SAW THE PROMPT LIST SO. EXCELLENT TIMING HONESTLY. this was a fun little what-if scenario very much inspired by @firststrikerr nefferious incident fic, you all should go read it, it has incredibly fun argent and chen dynamics. BUT ANYWAY. herald and argent.. go!!!

(oh also, pspsps @dogueteeth-fhr since you requested it as well)

1. "Oh, the PR department isn't going to like this."

"Oh," Argent says, a slow grin creeping onto her face, teeth as sharp as her smile as she inspects the picture on the fridge. "Oh, the PR department is going to hate this."

Daniel wasn't listening to her, too busy being miserable with his face buried in his hands. He'd been stuck like this for ten minutes now, wordlessly coming to terms with the fact he was getting fired. By this point, he was beginning to make peace with the idea of retiring. He had a good career. Maybe he could come back as a vigilante some time in the future with a proper masked identity this time. It was a miracle he wasn't fired the minute he stepped foot inside Steel's office; then again, maybe it would've been a mercy. That was easily the single most awkward conversation of his life. There's not exactly a tactful way to tell your teammate to not kiss the villain that broke his leg.

"Where did he even find this? I haven't seen anything on the papers yet." Argent tugs it off the fridge, thank god, grabbing a donut before plopping herself on the table next to him.

"I don't know," he groans, the first words he's said since he found it hung up. "They were there when I got here. I haven't seen Ricardo at all today."

"I'm surprised he hasn't tore you a new one yet." She takes a bite of her snack, looking at the pictures like she was reading the morning newspaper. "Cyrus to Puppeteer is one hell of a rebound."

Daniel grimaces, which was an appropriate reaction, but not for the reasons she thinks. Right. He broke up with Cyrus. That was bad enough for Ortega, but now he's made out with Puppeteer. Who is also Cyrus. Except Ortega doesn't know that, because Daniel kept it a secret. For Cyrus. And Puppeteer.

Ricardo was going to kill him.

"How long do you think it'll take till the press gets a hold of this?"

"Maybe... maybe PR will catch it in time?" He pulls his head up, looking at her with impossible hope.

She pauses her eating, looking over the picture to him with a single raised eyebrow. He groans again, dropping his head on the table with a thunk. He can hear her resuming her chewing.

"If it makes you feel any better, I think this is the first time Puppeteer's ever run away from you."

"Please." His suffering is still audible despite his voice being muffled by the table. "Be quiet."

It wasn't fair– what was Daniel supposed to do? They were in an abandoned building, nowhere near to any place the press should've been. He drags a hand over his face. The answer was obviously fight, but Puppeteer was taunting him. Getting riled up would've played right into his hands. He had shambled towards Herald with a stutter in his step that's so easy to connect now that he knows who's behind the mask. He thought the suit was designed to move like that, to play up the inhumanity (a terrible word choice, and it makes Daniel's mouth taste bitter).

"What would it take," he'd hummed, the vocal distorters turning it into a dissonant tune, "to finally make you face the truth?" He took a step forward, and Herald had stared him down, feet steady on the ground. "It was so easy getting what I needed out of you," he whispered. "You were so willing to be fooled." They were close enough to touch, but Puppeteer still had his hands neatly behind his back, and Herald hadn't budged. He had wondered what Cyrus could see on his face, read in his mind.

"You're nothing, Herald– to me, and to the rest of the idiots calling you heroes. Do yourself a favour, and quit before you end up embarrassing yourself again."

He was provoking him. It was clear to anybody who had any idea of the way Puppeteer operates. Part of Herald was tempted to give in– to take the first punch, and finally air out the grief he's been hiding for weeks. Was that his own sense of betrayal, or mental manipulation to goad him into acting? There was no way to be sure. The rest of him had wanted to prove him wrong.

So he did.

He finally closed the gap, quickly enough that Puppeteer didn't have a chance to register what was happening, wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling him into a kiss. It wasn't good, his mask isn't exactly one inviting affection, but it wasn't for long. He'd pulled away, and he could imagine the emotions going through Cyrus' face even with the mask on, hands caught halfway between any sort of movement. It was the same look he had when Daniel said he liked hanging out with him the first time they had coffee together. The same look when he admitted he was attracted to him. The same one when Daniel said he loved him.

He hadn't realized his hand had migrated from over his face to settle onto his mouth, and when he finally looks up again, Argent is staring at him, brows furrowed together. Shit.

"Listen, I don't know what's going on between you two, but-"

"You don't need to say it." There's a slight squeak to his voice as he cuts her off. "Please. Whatever you need to say, Steel already told me. I promise."

She smiles again, amused, finishing the last of her snack.

"Whatever you say," she shrugs, swinging her legs off the table to stand back up. "Have fun with Ortega," she sing-songs, turning around before she could see his face.

She throws the picture in the trash as she leaves, leaving Daniel to wallow in peace.