It's been a while, but at midnight last night I had a sudden burst of inspiration as I was trying to fall asleep. I obviously couldn't ignore, what with the writer's block I've been experiencing for the last week since I finished my last assignment for the semester, so I spent an hour getting the gist of the chapter written.

Chapter 58

My senses were filled by the most delicious aromas as I unlocked my apartment door and stepped inside, Lester on my heels. I wasn't sure what Bobby had decided to conjure up from the meagre supplies my kitchen had to offer, but boy was I looking forward to sampling it. If it tasted even half as good as it smelled, I'd be in heaven from the first mouthful. My stomach growled in anticipation which brought a chuckle from Lester.

"I could get used to this," he said, toeing off his sneakers – which would ordinarily look pretty bright – beside Bobby's utterly fluorescent once. "Bobby's the best cook at Rangeman besides Ella. You're so lucky."

I stiffened, unable to cover up my reaction to his statement as my mind immediately jumped to conclusions. Had he figured it out already? Bobby and I hadn't even been 'Bobby and I' for twelve hours yet! Was he so in tune with his surroundings that he'd sensed the shift the second I stepped into the gun range? It didn't seem possible, but I couldn't deny how accurate the guys' instincts had always been. And Lester could smell a single woman a mile away. Of course he would know.

As I was trying to think of some way to respond that wouldn't completely give us away, Tank's head appeared around the corner, the barest hint of a peculiar expression on his face. "Steph," he said, "Finally! I have something I want to talk to you about."

Great. He'd probably figured it out too.

Before I could respond – though I had no idea how I was going to do that – Tank had disappeared once more, leaving me staring at the place where head had been as a knot slowly formed in the pit of my stomach. It wasn't until Lester made a noise in the back of his throat as he brushed past me that I was able to unfreeze myself from the floor and clear my thoughts enough to take a deep breath and follow the men into my kitchen.

"Why so serious?" Lester asked Tank as he swiped a cherry tomato from the bowl of salad on the table.

"I have a proposition," Tank stated, gesturing for me to take the seat nearest to him. I did so with a great deal more ease than I had managed the ten steps from the entryway. A proposition didn't sound s bad. It certainly didn't sound like he knew about Bobby's and my new relationship status. At least not until he started speaking again: "Bobby and I were talking just now."

"Ah, shit," I uttered before I could stop myself. "We were planning on telling you, honestly, we just only decided it this morning and… I… don't think that's what you were talking about…" I trailed off as I caught sight of the confusion on all three men's faces. "Nevermind. Go on. What were you and Bobby talking about?"

Lester narrowed his eyes at me, glanced briefly to Bobby and then settled his gaze back on me. "I'm sure whatever it is pales in comparison to what you're obviously not telling us," he said, maintaining eye contact as he lowered himself into the seat opposite me. "I assume, from the way your defence flowed on from Tank's mention of discussion with Bobby, that he is the 'we' you're referring to," he deduced, cutting his eyes to his friend once more.

"But what did they decide this morning?" Tank questioned, his forehead showing the faint signs of suspicion I'd learned to recognsie years.

"N-nothing," I said, although it sounded a lot more like a question than the statement I'd intended it to be.

"It's okay, Steph," Bobby assured me, laying a hand on my shoulder. "We wouldn't be able to keep it a secret from them for very long anyway."

Tank and Lester exchanged a look across the table before spearing us both with suspicious looks. It was Lester who asked the obvious, though, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms like this was an interrogation and he needed to project an air of indifference. "Keep what from us?" he asked.

I looked to Bobby over my shoulder, unsure if he meant to reveal our secret right now after telling me just over an hour ago that I didn't have to tell them anything I wasn't comfortable with. Was it possible he had some other plot up his sleeve to save me?

I sighed. It was better than it came out now, anyway. Otherwise I'd spend the next however-long-it-took-them-to-figure-it-out-on-their-own stressing about it. That was no way to start a relationship. Drinking in Bobby's steading gaze for a moment longer, I returned my attention to the other two men and took another deep breath. "Bobby and I are… together," I informed them, cringing at how middle-school my wording sounded.

Lester's eyebrows shot up in surprise, accompanied by a shit-eating grin. "Like, together-together?" he asked, leaning his elbows on the table, the indifferent act washed away completely. "Like, banging-each-other-together?"

Tank snorted, drawing my eyes to him. "Please," he said with what might have been an eye roll if he was an ordinary man. "It's Bobby. He doesn't just 'bang' anyone. If they're together it's obviously a serious relationship founded in friendship and trust. And Steph just said they only decided this morning. While I'm sure you'd have moved to the bedroom in that time, Bobby has always had a very different approach."

"True," Lester agreed easily with a nod. "I can't believe I didn't predict this though, with all the extra time they've been spending together."

"You know," Tank replied in a contemplative tone as he sat back in his chair. "If you think about it, we set them up. Lester lifted a brow in question, and Tank explained his reasoning. "We told her to run with Bobby. If we'd modified our running routines to accommodate Steph they might never have gotten together."

I opened my mouth to point out that the idea of a relationship with Bobby had existed long before they 'pushed' us together for our morning runs, but Bobby's grip tightened on my shoulder briefly. I met his gaze once more and the expression I found there told me it was easier for both of us to let them think they were responsible for us getting together in some small way.

"You didn't have to tell them," he said quietly as Lester and Tank continued to discuss their matchmaker abilities.

"Yes, I did," I assured him, reaching up to entwine my fingers with his. "If I didn't, I would have spent every second of the evening stressing about them figuring out and then being hurt that we hadn't told them in the first place. This way is easier. Like ripping off a bandaid." I shook my head, unhappy with the simile, but unable to think of a better way to phrase it. "Besides," I added. "What else could we have told them after that outburst?"

Bobby shrugged. "I was going to tell them I'm moving out of Haywood."

"You're what!?" Lester demanded, banging his hands on the table and almost knocking over the salad bowl. "You can't move out! We-we… what about the infirmary?!"

Clearly, I had been worrying about their reaction to the wrong revelation. Tank and Lester seemed completely fine with bobby and me being an item, but if the expression on Lester's face was anything to go by, he wasn't ready for Bobby to move out. Curious. I looked to Tank to see his reaction, but his expression and posture was unchanged from the previous topic of discussion. As Bobby retrieved a tray from the oven and started transferring chicken from it to a serving platter I wasn't aware I owned, I took a moment to examine the men's faces a little more closely and determined that Tank's lack of expression change as not due to his need to mask an emotion, but simply because he wasn't concerned by the news. Lester on the other hand, looked like he'd just found out his dog had died.

"It's not like I'm quitting," Bobby pointed out, bringing the chicken to the table along with a bowl of oven-roasted potatoes and taking the final seat beside me. "I'll still be taking care of the infirmary. I just won't be sleeping in the same building as I work anymore." He moved a couple of pieces of chicken to his plate and passed the platter to me, wordlessly starting the meal as he continued to explain, "I've been thinking about moving out for a while now, but this weekend cemented the decision . I need the physical separation of work and home in order to be able to fully relax and recharge."

Lester stared at him a moment longer, blinked, nodded and finally accepted the platter Tank was passing to him. "Right," he agreed. "That makes sense. Sorry."

"No worries man," Bobby assured him, passing me the salad. "There's been a lot of changes and stress lately, and we've lived in the same building for ten years. It's perfectly normal to want things to stay the same in at least one part of your life."

"Moving out your own seems so grown up," Lester said, shaking his head slowly. "When did we get so old?"

"I've been living on my own for seven years now," I pointed out indignantly. "And Tank not only lives on his own, but is a homeowner."

Lester made a noise in the back of his throat and waved my comments off. "Yeah, but you guys are both old already."

"Excuse you?" Tank intoned, spearing Lester with a dagger-filled glare.

"You are the oldest in the group," Bobby pointed out helpfully. "Forty is much closer for you than it is for Lester, the baby."

"Yeah," Lester agreed, apparently fine with being labelled a baby. "Two more years." He shuddered.

"Two and a half," Tank countered sourly. Not that he's counting or anything.

"Not to mention you're in a committed relationship with your cats," Lester continued, ignoring his friend's comment.

I was just breathing a sigh of relief at finally having confirmation that I was not, in fact, the oldest person in the apartment when Tank decided he'd had enough of Lester's opinions on age and relationships and shifted his attention to me instead.

"Speaking of birthdays," he said. "Yours is coming up."

I gulped. I didn't need the reminder. I was all too aware that I was only a matter of weeks away from transitioning from my mid-thirties to the terrifying 'late thirties' territory. It wasn't as scary as being two years away from the dreaded four-oh, but something that played on my mind none-the-less, especially as I worked to get my life together so that I could live it purposefully for a change. "Yes, it is," I agreed.

"Bobby and I were talking before you got home," he explained, returning to the statement that had started the evening off with anxiety. If anything, the knowledge that he'd been referring to my birthday the entire time filled me with more unease than when I'd thought he'd figured out Bobby and I were dating. What plans were they hatching? "And he mentioned your need for a car," Tank continued.

I cut my eyes to Bobby, who simply shrugged. "Did he also mention that I told him I won't be accepting cars as gifts going forward?" I asked pointedly.

"He did," Tank confirmed easily with a slight incline of his head. "I understand why, and I understand that you're determined to be independent, but hear me out-"

Immediately, I wanted nothing more than to tune out, or perhaps kick him out of my apartment, but I knew that wasn't what friends did. I had to believe that he would respect my decisions and whatever he had to say would be coming from a place of good intentions. That's what my therapist was trying to get me to realise, so I had to start practicing it in my real life. I nodded for him to go on.

"Find a car that you like and can afford," he suggested slowly, making sure he had my full attention. "And then allow us to chip in to upgrade the safety features."

Now it was my turn to narrow my eyes at them. This offer was not at all what I'd expected. If we're being honest, I kind of expected them to try to convince me to let them give me a car. The fact that they were trying so hard to work within the boundaries I'd set warmed my heart. I couldn't have hoped for a better group of friends if I'd designed them myself. But the question still remained if I was willing to let them spend the kind of money they appeared to want to spend on me. I know they worried about me, and having the upgraded safety features would be on less thing to play on their minds while they got on with the very important work of saving the world, but…

"That's a great idea," Lester enthused, reminding me that he hadn't been privy to the conversation because he'd been teaching me how to shoot people in the knee. "Totally beats my idea of a Victoria Secrets gift card… although maybe Bobby would appreciate that…"

"I'd appreciate knowing that my girlfriend isn't going to die from a car fault," Bobby countered quickly, a pink tinge gracing his cheeks. He was definitely not like the other men I'd dated.

"How much are you suggesting you'd spend on these upgrades?" I questioned Tank, partly because I was curious and partly because I needed to give Bobby a chance to recover from the attack of Lester's suggestive comments.

Tank considered me for a moment, his knife and fork pausing in the act of cutting up a potato. "It would depend on the car you chose as to how much work was needed to get it up to an acceptable standard, but I was thinking somewhere around a couple hundred each, possibly up to a collective couple thousand for the whole deal."

"Couple thousand?!" I squeaked. "That's too much!"

"Not if you pick a dud," Lester said.

I shook my head. "I hope my next car will be better than the shitboxes I'm used to," I said. "I have more funds to work with than I've had since I got laid off from E.E. Martins."

"So you'll let us help you pick a good car and make sure it's safe?" Bobby pressed.

I shrugged. It wasn't like letting them help me would hurt me in the long run, in fact they were trying to make sure I didn't get hurt. "Okay," I agreed. "But if I think you're trying to spend too much money on me, I will let you know and I will expect you to back down."

"Noted," all three said in unison.

Hopefully I'll be able to get another chapter or two written before classes start up again. We'll see.