A/N: …If you clicked on this, you are as warped in the mind as we are. No offense. We think it's a good thing.

Welcome to the Mpreg Drabbles! Or ficlets. Or whatever. There will be a series of pairings that we've already written, but we'll also be accepting requests. …Enjoy?

Disclaimer: We don't own PoT. We do own any mentioned children. Katie specifically owns Rohji. Oh! We don't own Moritaka or Akito, they're Bakuman characters. Sort of. Their names are taken from Bakuman chapters, anyway.

Drabble the first: Momo/Ryoma

Ryoma felt like a stay-at-home mom sometimes.

Momo was at work, which meant Ryoma was at home with the kids. All five of them--soon to be six--and how he'd gotten himself into this situation he really didn't know.

There had been a tennis tournament going on last week--goddamn Wimbledon, for Christ's sake--and he'd had to miss it. Because of Momo. Because Momo just couldn't be satisfied with five, no, he had to have an even number, the stupid monkey.

And this, he thought as he surveyed the completely trashed penthouse, had started before he'd even got up this morning.

Rohji, the oldest at ten, had decided to corral the twins into playing hot lava tag in the living room and the dining room and a few of their bedrooms. He still wasn't sure exactly how far the cushions spread into their home.

Six-year-olds Moritaka and Akito, the aforementioned twins, had completely destroyed a bathroom in their search for "pirate treasure," which seemed to include sending toy boats into the toilet so they could retrieve the "treasure" from the Kraken at the bottom of the "whirlpool."

He had thought five-year-old Mei was being good and painting in her room until her three-year-old little sister, Emi, came and told him Nee-chan was redecorating and that he should come see the pretty unicorn she drew above Emi's bed to protect her.

And to top it all off, the one currently inside of him would not stop moving. If he had to rush to the bathroom one more time within the next hour he would scream. He dry washed his face, looking at the clock on the cable box through his fingers. He should probably cook something; Momo would be home in about an hour, and maybe the heathens his husband saw fit to call children would settle down if they were putting food in their mouths. He wandered into the kitchen, only to see black smoke beginning to trickle out of the stove.

"Shit!" He grabbed the dusty fire extinguisher off the top of the refrigerator and threw open the oven. When the smoke cleared he glared at the charred remains of…something plastic from the way it was dripping over the oven racks, though he couldn't tell exactly what. He turned around, setting the fire extinguisher on the counter with a resigned thud, and saw the five children looking warily at him from the kitchen doorway. "I don't want to know which one of you put what in there, but go open the windows. Maybe we can get the smell out before your father gets home." The kids scrambled to follow their dad's orders.

Ryoma leaned against the counter, head in his hands, trying not to get dizzy from the fumes in the kitchen and attempting to contain his stress-tears. He felt a pair of little arms wrap around his knees and looked up, quickly wiping at his eyes. More arms encased his legs and waist, and he looked up properly.

Rohji spoke for all of them. "We're sorry, Dad…"

Ryoma sighed, kneeling down in the center of the children. "It's okay."

He was hugged by multiple pairs of apologetic arms again.

"Ryoma? What's burning?" Ryoma thumped his head against the counter behind him.

--

A/N From Katie: So there's the first drabble. Reviews are wonderful. Even if you hated the pairing, don't worry, because there are tons of other pairings.

A/N From Scarlet: I was reading this...the British Open is a golf tournament, not a tennis tournament. Katie wrote that part. I don't know how one of us didn't catch it. It's a little bit worse for me; I work at a golf course. I think she meant Wimbledon, which is what I'm going to change it to.