Author's note: A collection of 100 micro-fics, first posted on Tumblr a long, long time ago.

Father & Son

"We're going out for breakfast," Patrick said the morning before the wedding.

Tim frowned. "Why?"

"I thought we could have a day together before Shelagh moves in. Just us two."

Shelagh would have deemed the full English they gorged on too greasy. She would have rolled her eyes at the hour spent at the barbers discussing cricket. And she definitely wouldn't have enjoyed the violent Western at the cinema.

"I won't tell if you won't," his dad said over fish and chips later. Shelagh's cooking was better, but some things were tradition, just between father and son.

Tim grinned. "Deal."

Cake

"I don't think I've ever been this nervous over a cake," Mrs. B said.

Patsy wiped her hands on her apron. "Trixie would choose something complicated." She was "helping" with the chocolate chiffon cake, though that mostly involved not moving too quickly and lots of prayer.

The older woman tapped a floury finger on her chin. "Mrs. Noakes had coconut. Mrs. Turner, an almond sponge. Each time you pray it doesn't fall."

"Trixie said something similar about walking down the aisle."

"You laugh, but you may be next."

Patsy chuckled a little louder than was necessary. "I think I'm safe.

Lucky Day

Tim found the newspaper clipping while they were cleaning Dad's study. The photograph was grainy, but the people were unmistakable. There was Dad, standing outside a van beside two nuns, one large and rotund, and the other small and bespectacled.

"We're lucky," Dad had said that day, as though he'd brought the circus to Poplar rather than TB screenings. "Countless lives will be saved by this, Tim."

One life, in particular, Tim was especially grateful for.

"Mum looks so different," Angie said. "Did she know she was ill?"

Tim wiped dust from his eye. "No. It was a lucky day."

Jane

The other nurses at the boarding house teased Jane about the letters, until they found out what was in them.

"You play chess by post?" Nancy wrinkled her button nose. "With a curate?"

"He's…" Jane glanced down at the letter in her hands, unable to think of just one word to describe the Reverend Appleby-Thornton – James, now.

"Kind," she settled on. Few people were kind like he was.

Nancy rolled her eyes and didn't bother her after that, but Jane didn't mind. She liked having a good secret for once, rather than something she had to hide.

Mistletoe

"Happy Christmas, love." Patrick picked the fragrant greenery off the counter and twirled it over his wife's head, leaning in for a kiss. She laughed and moved away.

"Nice try, but that's rosemary for the potatoes, not mistletoe."

He sniffed the plant's piney scent. "What's the difference?"

"I should hope you know," Shelagh scoffed. "Mistletoe's poisonous."

"Well, I'll make sure not to eat mistletoe," He twirled the herb above her head again. "Does that mean I can't kiss you under the rosemary?"

Shelagh's face pinked and she stretched up on her toes. "I suppose we could start a new tradition."

Jenny

She hadn't thought of Alec in years. But when she entered the music shop and heard Debbie Reynolds and Gene Kelly trilling "Good Morning," she placed a hand over her heart and was lost.

Blame memories or the pregnancy hormones, but she had to buy the record.

"Is this new?" Phillip asked as they listened that evening, her feet in his lap.

There would always be "what ifs." Without them, she wouldn't have the man she smiled at now, or the child they were waiting to meet. She sighed as his hands reached a sensitive spot. "An old favorite."

Birds & Bees

"I do believe I was just given the birds and bees chat by a nun," Chummy whispered as the nurses left the kitchen and headed down the damp corridor toward their rooms.

Jenny giggled. "Be glad it was Sister Bernadette, not Sister Evangelina."

"Outside the realms of 'gentlemanly behavior.' Gosh, what do you suppose she meant by that?"

"You're a midwife, Chummy," Trixie said. "I'm sure you'll figure it out."

Chummy flushed to her hairline. "Trixie! From Sister Bernadette?"

"I'm not saying she has personal experience," Trixie arched an eyebrow. "But she wasn't born a nun."

Kiss

"Daddy, why do you always kiss Mummy's hand?"

Shelagh blushed and Patrick chuckled nervously. Angela had been asking embarrassing questions lately. Tim normally found it hilarious, but now he groaned.

"Because grown-ups like to be mushy."

"Because –" Patrick looked at Tim sternly " – I love your mum, and I want her to know."

"Why don't you just say I love you?"

"Well, I do, but sometimes you can't say it, so…" He looked to Shelagh for help.

Tim rescued him. "Because we're around, Ange. Don't encourage them."

Patrick grinned and lifted Shelagh's hand to his lips.

Tim sighed. "Parents."