Hi fellow Miss Fisher fans, This is my first attempt to publish on this site, though I have been active in the fandom on tumblr and ao3 before. I decided to try it out here too! This is a rather light-hearted fic, I hope someone might enjoy it!

"Mr Butler," Phryne said with a mischievous smile on her lips, "may I ask you for a favour?"

They were in the parlour, Mr Butler just about to fetch the empty cups and tray from the early afternoon tea.

"Of course, Miss," Mr Butler answered.

Polite and composed as ever, Mr Butler was not only employed to grant her wishes, he also found a great pleasure in doing so. Ever since he came to Wardlow to work for Miss Fisher half a year ago he had come to like his Miss increasingly every day. She was a fine woman: brave and generous, clever and beautiful, and serious as well as amusing. Even if it was part of his work to be absolutely composed, his inner smiles and laughter while at her service were legion.

Now that same woman looked at him speculatively, and with a raised eyebrow.

"You see, Mr B, I am having a… friend over tonight. A fine gentleman whom I have looked forward to… get to know for a while now." He nodded at her implication. "But I'm afraid he might be scared off by a house full of staff."

Mr Butler nodded again. He was quite sure who the gentleman caller was, and he approved heartily of the connection. They had been dancing around each other for ages, and perhaps something had shifted between them in Queenscliff, by the beach or during their sleuthing at night? In any case, he was delighted it had. He really was one of Miss Fisher's better choices, as far as Mr Butler was concerned – although he wouldn't have passed judgement on his Miss's taste to anyone, not even under the threat of a gun.

"I can easily have my evening off tonight, Miss. It would not be a problem, quite the contrary."

Phryne beamed at him.

"Thank you, Mr Butler. You are a treasure," she said.

"I'll leave something for you in the oven. There is some roast I'm sure the Ins… your guest will appreciate."

Mr Butler almost blushed – the closest to blushing he'd been for years – by his almost indiscretion in naming the gentleman caller, and by Miss Fisher's quirked eyebrow that acknowledged it. That was not his place. Slightly discomfited by his own blunder, he added: "At what time would you prefer me to be gone?"

"Is six o'clock alright?" Phryne asked, and as he nodded she continued: "And please, there is no need for you to stay out longer than nine. I am sure we'll be on the upper level by then, with any luck."

"Very good Miss," Mr Butler said. They shared a soft smile and he withdrew to the kitchen. As he went to make the arrangements for supper, he even surprised himself by letting out a whistle.

At six o'clock sharp, Mr Butler wished his Miss a lovely evening, put on his hat and stepped out of the kitchen entrance at Wardlow. Phryne watched him through the window, and as he disappeared from sight she let out a call:

"The coast is clear!"

Immediately, there was a bustle. Dot came down from her room with Jane in tow, carrying a large box with baking things between them. Phryne went to the telephone to call in the two waiting red raggers, who came carrying champagne and decorations. The prepared dinner for two was set aside and the kitchen soon smelled of baking. The parlour was decorated with garlands and balloons. Cec came in with a pile of presents and a large banner with the letters "Happy Birthday Mr Buter!" on it. As he and Bert looked for a place to hang it, Jane came out to watch them.

"Oh no!" she squealed. "I was sure I did it right, but it's wrong!"

Phryne came to her side and watched the men hanging up the colourful artwork.

"It looks lovely to me," she said.

"But it's all wrong! I misspelled his name! And it's his birthday, and I've never celebrated his birthday before, and now I've called him Mr Buter!" Jane was on the brink of tears.

"We'll just have to add it in," Phryne said soothingly. "It's only an 'l'."

"I really don't think that's going to fit," Jane said disheartened.

"Of course it will. Just push."

"You can't push in a letter," Jane complained. "The spacing is already done."

"Of course you can, it's all a matter of will."

Jane sighed and added a slightly smaller and rather wobbly "l" between her bold, brave letters "t" and "e". Since the line on the "t" was elaborately made, it stretched also over the l, making the sign read "Happy Birthday, Mr Butter!"

Phryne, Cec and Bert exchanged glances that said that no one under any circumstance could mention that.

"It's perfect, Jane," Phryne said. "Now, go and see if Dot needs help in the kitchen."

At quarter to nine, all the preparations were done. The cake was baked, beautifully decorated, and set out on a table together with champagne and glasses. The parlour, its door closed, was only half lit. Gathered there was a small party of people – in addition to Jane, Dot, Bert and Cec there were also Hugh, Jane's friend Ruth and four of Mr Butler's closest friends – two of them butlers just like him, and all four having had to think up excuses for why they couldn't meet up with him on his unexpected evening off. Only Phryne was in the hall, watching the kitchen door and waiting for Mr Butler to arrive home.

She was contemplating her ruse to get Mr Butler out of Wardlow, feeling slightly bad for having led him to believe that Jack was coming over, and that they were becoming lovers. The truth was far from it – Jack was an impossible nut to crack, not hard to flirt with but always retreating. Even that night a couple of weeks ago, when they had walked home completely drenched after escaping the pier in Queenscliff, bantering in the most delightful way, he had gone to his room as soon as they'd made it to the house. There was no resolution for their case, and Phryne would have to set her butler straight later.

Just as the clock was coming close to nine, there was a knock on the front door. Confused, Phryne opened it, just to see a familiar fedora, and underneath it a rather familiar man.

"Jack!" she exclaimed, surprised.

"Miss Fisher," he answered with a small smile. "Apologies for intruding."

As Phryne just stood there, stunned, not seeming inclined to let him in, he flicked his eyes to the closed parlour door. She thought she could see his cheeks turn a bit pink.

"Is this a bad time? Do you already have company?" he asked.

"No. Yes! Well…" Phryne answered, and at just that moment, she heard footsteps approaching the kitchen door.

She felt panic rise in her chest. Everything had been perfectly planned, the stage was set, and now at the last possible moment things went wrong. What was she to do? She grabbed Jack's arm and dragged him into the hall, closing the door behind him and ignoring his surprised "what?". As she heard the kitchen door unlock, she looked around her wildly, and as the door started to open, she made a quick decision. She took hold of Jack's head and dragged him towards her, muffling his surprised "Miss Fi…" with a big, wild, wet kiss right on his mouth.

It was meant as a cover up, but when she finally had her lips on that man it was difficult to stop – she lingered and deepened the kiss, and it took all her will power to finally disengage from the surprised Inspector, ascertain Mr Butler's position, see that Mr Butler had seen them, push Jack a few steps up the stairs, ask him with a stern look and a whispered "I'm sorry Jack" to stay where he was, turn to Mr Butler and almost completely unflustered say:

"Mr Butler! I hope you had a pleasant evening. The supper was delicious. Please, would you mind fetching the dishes from the parlour?"

"Of course, Miss," Mr Butler answered, not in the least offended by the immediate order. He had seen the searing kiss Miss Fisher was obviously trying to cover up, and he wouldn't mind playing his part.

Without a glance towards the stairs and its disconcerted inhabitant, Mr Butler passed Miss Fisher and opened the doors to the parlour. Just as he did, there was a flash of light and a sudden sound as ten people shouted "Surprise!" on the top of their lungs.

Mr Butler looked stunned, and as soon as Phryne was sure he was only surprised and not having a heart attack, she ushered him inside the room, casting an apologetic glance towards the stairs before closing the door behind her.

"Happy Birthday, dear Mr Butler. You didn't think I'd simply throw you out of the house on your birthday, did you?"

"Happy Birthday, Mr Butler," shouted Jane and Ruth, rushing to him to give him hugs.

One of his butler friends opened a bottle of champagne and started to fill up the glasses. Cec and Bert took a glass each and made elaborate salutes: "Happy birthday, old chap". Dot took a knife to cut up the cake and started to distribute it. Mr Butler positively beamed at his collected friends as he was given a piece of cake and a glass of the best champagne the house could offer.

As soon as everything about the festivities seemed to be in order, Phryne silently retreated out of the parlour and into the hall. She found Jack exactly where she'd left him, standing a few steps up in her stairs. He had obviously realised there was a birthday party, but seemed still rather befuddled about his own role in it.

"Jack!" she said, pretending she hadn't just molested the poor, unsuspecting inspector. "Would you perhaps care for some cake?"

"I…" Jack answered.

"Of course you do," Phryne answered for him. "Dot's made it; it's delicious."

"I…" Jack said again.

Phryne grabbed his hand and pulled him down from the stairs.

"Come along," she said, and as he seemed to meekly follow her lead, she halted to look at him properly.

"I am sorry Jack. I had to find a way to surprise Mr Butler on his birthday, and you can imagine how difficult that is. Really, it was the only thing I could think of!"

"Kissing me to surprise your butler?" he asked, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Well. It's not the first time that seems to be the solution to a desperate situation, is it?" she answered, flicking her eyes to his lips. "Just a moment." She reached up to wipe lipstick from his mouth. "Now you're good to go."

There were several looks of confusion as she unexpectedly dragged Inspector Robinson by his hand into the parlour, but she simply ignored them. There was a birthday, a cake, champagne, a lively party, and a surprised policeman she had just kissed breathless.

The complications she would have to think about another day.