Work Text:
They were slouching in the alley behind Edgar's work when Jimmy found them. He wasn't sure what he was more pissed over, Johnny haunting Edgar all hours of the day or Edgar letting him.
Their friendship made him sick.
Nny was sitting cross-legged on a stack of wood crates by the diner's back door. Edgar was leaning against the wall, apron slightly askew on his hips. They'd been talking when he'd first rounded the corner but went quiet as he came up to them. They'd probably been talking shit. Fuckers.
He couldn't have him, Jimmy'd found him first.
Edgar smiled placidly at him and Johnny nodded absently. It was noon so the alley was especially muggy. Johnny looked like he'd been out during the worst of it, temples damp, hair drooping slightly at the ends. Jimmy lit a cigarette to distract himself.
"What, I'm not good enough to join the conversation?"
Edgar huffed, head tilting back to stare up at the sky.
"Backwards is right." Johnny muttered, rolling his eyes as he yanked the collar of his shirt up to mop the sweat from his face.
"Sorry, Jimmy, but you're not evil enough to join our super-villain club." Edgar's smile turned sweet.
Jimmy scowled at the both of them. He ignored the bob of Edgar's throat by turning towards the dumpster . . . where he noticed the carcass of a dead kitten. 'Huh, that explains the smell.' He thought to himself.
"Clubs have initiations. Maybe we should have a ritual. If he survives, he's in."
Edgar laughed, pushing away from the wall and a step closer to his best friend. A thought occurred to Jimmy while he unwillingly calculated the number of stumbling steps there were between the wall and the stack of crates. He toed the decomposing animal with his boot.
"Well, I hope you fuckers are happy cause now I'm gonna have to eat this dead cat to prove I'm super villain material."
"Meow"
"Holy SHIT!" Jimmy did not fall on his ass. He skillfully tumbled away from the, not dead but certainly fucked up looking, kitten. Johnny, curious, uncurled himself from his precariously tilting seat and crept over. He knelt and picked up the little thing, cradling in in one palm while carefully maneuvering it's tiny limbs with long, bony fingers. Edgar peered over Jimmy's shoulder and watched with a critical expression.
"Might be dying, who knows," Johnny put his free hand on Jimmy's arm and pushed himself up. "Let me use that." He artfully dodged by Jimmy and unwound Edgar's apron from his waist, slipping away before either of them could stop him.
Edgar sighed, irritated. "Could you keep an eye on him with that thing?" He turned to regard Jimmy, face serious as the grave. "I'd rather not find out he buried my apron with the it if it dies. I'd have to pay the diner for it." He smiled at Jimmy like they had an understanding beyond the boundaries of their mutual friendship with Johnny, his hand gently squeezing the tips of Jimmy's fingers before he slipped back into the diner.
Jimmy sneered and headed for Edgar's apartment. Of course, neither of them gave a rat's ass about Jimmy's allergies.