I know there's PWP, but is it possible to have 'FWP'? Fluff Without Plot? Lol, if there is such a thing, this would be it. The flavor is a one shot, first person p.o.v.- Adrian's. Brad stops by the house and finds...catastrophe! Feedback is always awesome and appreciated : D

Disclaimer: I am not responsible for any adverse reactions to the sugary sweetness that is this one-shot. All characters (except Felicity) belong to Y&R.

"The 'DWDD' "- Adrian's Initiation

I'm putting away the dishes when the temper tantrum starts.

Sighing, I put down the dish towel- I knew it was too good to be true. The house had been mercifully silent for the past 15 minutes, and that fact alone should have been a warning. Instead I took it as a reprieve. Felicity is an adoreable handful on the best of days- and this is not one of them. I drag my fingers through my hair- God, I can feel it turning grey already.

"Felicity, what's wrong?", I call out tiredly. Just as I begin to walk towards 'The Gallery', the doorbell rings, and I force myself to resist the urge to start wailing right along with the little girl. Shooting a glance at the door, then to the room the shrieking is coming from, I choose the less immediate emergency and move to hastily open the door.

"Funny, you don't look like 'Nanny 911' to me." I say sarcastically.

"Sorry to disappoint you Adrian. Mind if I come in?"

"Be my guest." I step aside, allowing Brad Carlton to enter the house. His eyes systematically sweep the room, taking in the disarray- crayons and markers strewn over the kitchen table, toys littering the living room. When he looks away, I discreetly pull a fork out of the wall and pocket it. Felicity must've been playing 'archery' again.

"Colleen called me", he says, finally turning back to look at me. "She was worried, it being the first time she's really been away from Felicity." He nods towards the origin of the temper tantrum. "From the sounds of things, she's not taking it well."

"Thank you, Captain Obvious, for that startling revelation", I retort acidly. Felicity isn't the only one sorely missing Colleen's prescence, and I mentally berate myself for the thousandth time today for being so flippant about her business trip. Already the house looks like a disaster site, my lecture slides have been used to play 'sailboats' in the toilet, and play-dough sculptures ground into the carpet. And it's only the first day. Until now, I've never realized just how much damage control my wife performs on a daily basis.

Brad shoots me a warning look, but doesn't deign to reply. It doesn't matter- I don't have any nerves left for him to get on. Instead, I walk towards the sobbing that miraculously seems to have increased in volume. Entering the room, with my father-in-law behind me, I look at the red-faced little girl, crying her lungs out for all the world. When she sees me, she abruptly stops, running towards me and throwing her tiny frame against my legs.

"Hey sweetie, what's all the waterworks about, huh?" I kneel down and brush a chocolate colored curl away from her tear-streaked face. She sniffles, and for a moment, I'm gripped by the paralyzing fear that she'll start crying again. I hurry on. "Come on, tell daddy what has his little princess so upset."

"I...I was getting ready for bed, sniff... like you tolded me to. But..sniff...I couldn't...sniff...find Van Gough."

Suddenly, it makes sense, and I nod with relief.

"Van Gough? Who's Van Gough?", Brad asks from behind me.

"It's one of her teddy bears. She has to have all of them before she'll go to sleep." I look around her room, or rather, 'The Gallery' as we call it, with all of the walls covered in Felicity's artwork. I finally find the missing bear under a ballet tutu, and she snatches it out of my hands, hugging the tattered bear until I'm sure the stuffing will burst from the seams. She finally notices Brad.

"Grandpa! Whatcha' doing here? Did you come to read me a bed-time story?" Brad scoops her up into a hug, and rains kisses on her cheek until she giggles.

"Sure, pumpkin. What would you like me to read to you? 'Sleeping Beauty', 'Little Red Riding Hood'?"

Felicity's face puckers in childlike disgust, and she vehemently shakes her head. "Those are fairy-tales. They encourage ster...stereo..." She looks at me questioningly.

"Stereotypes", I supply helpfully. Brad looks at me as if he's bit into somehting sour, but I amicably ignore him. Felicity squirms until he puts her down, and she runs to retrieve her favorite book.

" ' Art Through The Ages' "? He makes choking noises as he takes the book.

"Yep! We're up to the 14th century!", she chirps excitedly.

Brad gives me an exhausted look, but I've never had much sympathy for my father-in-law.

Instead, I tuck my daughter into bed, arranging her army of stuffed animals around her, and kiss her soundly on the forehead. Brad clears a stack of coloring books off an armchair and settles in to read aloud. When her eyes flutter closed and do not open for several minutes, I let out the breath it feels like I've been holding all day. We creep out of the room, and I shut off the light and close the door.

"Do you want something to drink?", I offer. It seems like the civil thing to do.

When he nods, I stride into the kitchen. I return with our 'drinks', and hand Brad a juice carton.

"Sorry, I haven't gone shopping yet. This is all we have."

He laughs, and it's not snide or derogatory...it's almost sympathetic. It's strange, but after today, it feels like we're two comrades, sharing a victory drink. But then I think about who his daughter is, who also happens to be Felicity's mother...and I realize the reason for his sympathy. Taking the carton, he looks at me, but says nothing. I fall back onto the couch, glad to finally be sitting, and contentedly sip my juice. Finally, Brad looks back at me, resolution on his face.

"Adrian", he says, tiredly clapping me on the shoulder, 'welcome to the "DWDD"".

The term is foreign to me, and I arch my brow in silent question.

"It's a club- "Dad's With Difficult Daughters". Not to be confused with the 'other' "DWDD"- "Daughters With Difficult Dads". You're officially initiated."

I grin. "Do we have uniforms?"

Brad shakes his head.

"Come on- at least a secret identity? What do you think of Ad Nauseum- the man with the ability to lecture internminably."

"I'm afraid not- we're just ordinary guys with extraordinary daughters."

Truer words were never spoken. We're both silent for a moment, then Brad looks at me. "You know, the lecture thing might prove useful- I have a strong suspicion she's inherited her mother's ability to steamroll everyone."

I laugh nervously, my imagination getting the best of me. I study my father-in-law for a moment. Maybe having a support group isn't such a bad idea after all.

"The 'DWDD', huh?", I say, as if considering. Then I tip my juice box in his direction.

"I'll drink to that."

Authors note: Gah! I sat down to write a series of drabbles about all the little "firsts" Adrian experiences as a father, and the second one inspired me to expand on the idea and write this. I was also entertaining the idea of J.T. babysitting, and having it in his p.o.v. as Felicity terrorizes him. But I posted this to a Cadrian message board, so...maybe next time?