started out as a cute crack-idea XDD but nao i wanna write it D8 shocking i know. hopefully it wont be too scarring.

warning: the pairing, mpreg i guess, OC's, shounen ai, crackness, spoilers maybe.
inspiration: the oc was inspired by "i wanna hold your hand" and my friends XD and that it seems funny. this is inspired by sakura biyori.
reasons: i wansta DX
rating: T at most?
pairing: jing/kir (isshot)
summary: it started with a drunken confession, and slowly turned into a mistake neither of the had expected. now with a mysterious (or not) egg to deal with, can the two bring themselves to admit the truth to each other? its love or bust! (crappy summary)
disclaimer: not mine, never will be. i only own fluff, tuff and puff.

sya, i know, its scarring. plz dont flame me, or complain about the oc's. criticism isnt a flame and flames arent criticism. lets be mature here (smilesmile) back away now if the following warnings are creepy, or else enjoy the story (thumbsup)



It was just another day for them. Normal and perfectly at peace, and for once Jing and Kir weren't being chased by girls or odd villains. It was a nice day to just kick back for a change, lounging and doing whatever they wanted. That was how the day started. How it was ending however...

The bar was shady and obviously hazardous to one's health if you weren't careful. Music played from somewhere within the bar, and happy and drunken laughter filled the room, the occasional brawl breaking out every now and then. Oddly enough, in this place of drunken idiocy (For the most part. There was probably a mob meeting in there, for all they knew) sat Jing, slumped at the bar, a dozen small glasses littering it's polished surface. Most, if not all, of those said glasses belonged to the smashed teen that sat before them, like a drunken king with a dozen mini glass peasants that worshiped him and all the ground he walked on. Or not. Whatever. He was a bit out of it, so he couldn't be sure.

He sat there, drinking shot after shot, a nice stream of gold coins allowing the bartender to "forget" his age. Why, might you ask, was the great Bandit King sitting in a shady bar getting drunk off his ass? Hell if he knew. It started with Kir ordering something, then leaving his glass to Jing so that he could go flirt with a group of women across the bar (who were probably the wives of said mob bosses), and after keeping an eye on his partner for a few minutes, he had turned away, sick of the scene. He wasn't sure exactly WHY he was disgusted by the scene, and he didn't wish to contemplate it. After a few minutes of just staring at the murky liquid in front of him, the bartender had brought him out of his daze, asking if he was going to drink it or make out with it. Jing made a face, and quickly downed the shot.

The effects were somewhat instant, and before he knew it, Jing had downed six or so shots before the alcohol had finally caught up to him. While drinking, he had slowly begun to mumble to the bartender, unknowing of what he was confessing or that he was even talking.

Not that he minded, it made watching Kir a bit less painful. The bartender listened half heartedly, busy with his job, and Jing didn't even notice when the man wasn't even there. This is where the story starts.

"I'know, I dunno why i bother...Imean he doesn't even notice or nothin, and its like talkin to an animal...well he isa bird an all buuut y'get teh idea..." he mumbled away, eyes half massed as he stared unseeingly at the back of the bar, uncaring of the few people who weren't drunk quite yet. They ignored him to for the most part.

"I's not even like mspectin 'im to like, confess love or nothin. I dunno why I even like the prick...nother glass pleaze..." Jing mumbled, scowling at his empty shot glass.

The bartender eyed him, setting another glass down in front of the teen. "So...whats the issue again?" he asked, actually beginning to get curious of what the hell a drunk kid (obviously loaded) was even talking about. A love issue it sounded like.

Jing picked up the glass teetering and downing it quickly, swaying and grunting in annoyance when the liquid was once again gone. "'Im." he said, gesturing vaguely to Kir, who was busy flirting with a large bosomed woman. Scowling, the teen turned back, wrinkling his nose in disgust. "Nother shot pleaze..." he muttered, taking the glass as it was being set down, downing it quickly.

"He flirs and flirs, an he nosises those girls, but he doesn't pay me any I dun exist, jus flirs...and then ges all mad an stuff when I 'nore im' later its sprising or sometin...notter shot puleze..." he mumbled, obviously starting to slip up.

"You've had enough kid." the bartender said firmly, beginning to collect and clean the glasses that Jing had finished recently.

He pouted, mumbling and slumping onto the bar with a heavy sigh, eyes sullen and glazed over. He was quiet for a long moment, and for a moment the man behind the counter thought he passed out. He jumped a bit when the kid looked up, eyes a bit damp and full of hurt.

"Whyz he do tat...? D'ya tink he jus doesn't like me?" he asked, voice almost desperate.

The man frowned, not sure what to say. Glancing at the bird behind Jing, he frowned. He didn't have the heart to tell the kid what he thought. "I dunno kid." he said simply.

Jing looked at the man, eyes slowly lighting up in realization. He may have been drunk, but he could still read people well. After a moment, he dropped his head silently, and the bartender watched his shoulders quiver for a few minutes sadly. After a minute or two, he set a shot glass down in front of Jing, who jumped, not looking up.

"Heres one on the house." the man said softly.

Jing slowly lifted his head, eying the glass before slowly taking it, the alcohol already effecting his stomach. He took a long sip, not drinking it all for once. His depression was also taking a toll on him, and he almost felt ill. Maybe he should stop...looking back at Kir, who paid him no mind, he thought better of this and downed the remaining alcohol in the glass, closing his eyes tightly as he tipped backwards on his stool.

Oh who cared if he had one last glass...or five.


PART 1 x.x forgive teh crackishness and oocness, i wrote mosta these chapters at like, 3 in the morning (not a great excuse though.)