So The Blue House Project didn’t die. Richards must have been right about Cressida being persuasive, because within a week, things were up and running again. The prefab was even blessed with new furniture and two office desks. Eddie was happy to see it blossom. The Blue House was hardly ever closed and since it was located just off the centre of campus, near the library, it was never empty except at night. At any one time someone was in there, eating, working or talking.

Eddie was, in spite of himself, busy. He was of course sailing through his computer science courses, and barely had to spend any time on them, but the demands of the Blue House were ever present. Both Richards and Cressida seemed to know when he had some free time and would add another task to his list. Eddie would have railed against it, but the problem was that it felt so incredibly addictive for him to find a place where his endless energies and brain power could be put to good, efficient use. The system was perfect. Richards and Cress were the faces, the spokespeople and the ones who faced down the stuffed shirts of the governing body. The team scurried around like ants, each at their individual tasks. And Eddie was the Queen Bee, who surveyed and directed them all.

Without intending it, Eddie became the nexus of the project, and all the strings started with him. The grownups told him their needs, Eddie found someone to fill them. He was the one everyone reported to with results, problems, ideas, or questions, and Eddie redirected everything in a controlled kind of chaos. It helped that he was a jack of all trades, knowing more than a little about a lot. If a computer broke, he could fix it. If they needed a car, Eddie knew a guy. And Eddie revelled in it. For the first time in his life, he was fully occupied. He felt like an octopus who had only been using two of his arms before now.

By October, the project was rewarded with a second prefab. It was placed at right angles to their blue house so they made an L shape. It was, unfortunately, in the same decrepit state as the previous one had been, possibly worse.

He and Brendan observed it wryly.

“Don’t suppose Helen owes you another favour?” Brendan said, eyeing the peeling metal framework and sand coloured exterior.

Eddie sighed loudly. “I’m afraid not. And she’s currently in New York with an exhibition. No, I’m afraid we will have to do this ourselves.”

Brendan glanced at him. “You can paint? Why I am not surprised.”

“You should know by now I can do anything and everything. However, I will not claim to have Helen’s talent, but we can just paint it blue for now. I can source the right tint.” Eddie said.

“When? I have classes today. And what about the repair work?”

“Weekend will have to do. And we will just have to pull ourselves up by our testosterone and be manly men. You can be the policeman and I’ll be the fireman.” Eddie teased, winking at him.

Bren grinned. “I am very manly. I sport.” He said and Eddie laughed. “Still, I don’t know much about DIY things. I never took shop.”

Eddie tapped his fingers against his chin. “Hmm, I know some. Can any of your soccer buddies help?”

Bren thought for a moment. “It’s not something that really comes up but I’ll ask.”

“Lovely. And then we can possibly get this all done in one weekend.”

“Ugh. I used to have free time.” Bren said, but it was light hearted.

“Don’t complain, you’ll start to sound like your sister.”

When Saturday morning arrived, Eddie was already there with the things he anticipated they would need, wearing torn jeans and an old muscle tee. He had texted Brendan the night before, telling him that if he was expected to be up at ass-crack, then Brendan had better be too. He hadn’t gone over the previous night, instead had been in a meeting with Richards and Cress, which had been more interesting than expected and thus it had ended late, and Eddie had thought perhaps turning in would be better than going out to find someone to play with.

He was not disappointed when Brendan came into view at 9AM. But he was surprised when he saw who he had brought with him. And so for the second time in as many months, he watched Blue Streaks walk towards him, looking less than enthusiastic.

Bren smiled in greeting. “Eddie, you remember Em?”

Eddie turned to face them, hands on hips and head cocked, and spoke as if he was struggling to recall. “I do vaguely recall the blue streaks.”

He watched Em very closely for any kind of reaction, but his face didn’t flicker. Bren interceded.

“Well, I asked the guys if anyone could help with the repairs and he volunteered.”

The altruistic Em stayed silent, not looking at them; he was surveying the damaged prefab.

“Well, I am grateful that he took time out of his day to aid us in our little venture.” Eddie said. Em continued to ignore them, and walked up to the prefab to examine it in closer detail, walking around it and taking in the various problems.

Eddie spread his hands and looked at Bren significantly. Bren could only shrug.

“He’s not chatty.” He offered quietly.

“He looks like he drowns kittens.” Eddie said equally quiet.

Another shrug. Eddie turned to see Em come around the other side of the box. Eddie wasn’t completely sure, since the details were a touch blurry, but he thought Em might have been wearing the same clothes as the night they had met. The blue streaks were much more pronounced now that he saw them in daylight, standing out nicely against his dark brown hair. The only difference was that his nose ring was silver now, instead of black. Maybe it had always been?

“Well, you’ve done your rounds. What is your verdict?” Eddie asked him directly. Eddie had a basic understanding of what they had to do, but was curious anyway.

Em settled into a comfortable stance, weight evenly distributed on both feet, hands in pockets and gazing at the prefab. Then he spoke in that deep, rasping voice;

“You’re going to need to strip the metal panelling completely, but it’s easily replaced.” He looked around at the equipment Eddie had brought which lay on the ground in front of them. “The rest is just sanding and replacing some nails and screws. Shouldn’t take long.”

“How long is not long?” Eddie asked, fascinated by the man’s voice.

Em shrugged. “Two weekends tops.”

Eddie turned slowly to Bren. “I suppose it will have to do.” he said with a raised eyebrow to indicate he wasn’t just talking about the time frame.

Bren ignored him and said: “Do we need anything else? I can run to the hardware store before it closes.”

Em glanced briefly at the equipment. “Metal sheeting. I’ll text you the specs.”

Bren nodded, and stopped next to Eddie before he walked off. “Eddie, uh…don’t…try to behave, Ok?” Bren said in a low voice.

“Don’t try to behave? Very well, Bren bear if you insist.” Eddie said, winking.

“Seriously…” he started again but Eddie waved him away. “Shoo, bear. Keep the receipts for Cress.”

Brendan looked hesitant, like he was regretting bringing Em along after all but pushed a hand through his hair and walked off. Leaving Eddie to his devices was usually the easiest course of action.

When Eddie turned back he saw Em had already picked up a pair of heavy duty work gloves and a hammer, and was pulling the buckled sheeting from the walls. The muscles in his arms strained and rolled as he worked, allowing Eddie to admire them briefly.

Eddie wanted to launch into witty repartee, but found that his mouth was empty of words. Which was distinctly odd. He considered Em more carefully, since he now had the chance to do it in the light of day without hurrying. Shorter than himself, but only by about a hand. Familiar wide shoulders and chest, tapering down to a narrow waist. He didn’t have to imagine what lay underneath the clothes since he had been there not too long ago, but his skin was lighter than he had originally thought. Like the streaks.

He wondered if the reason for Em’s taciturn behaviour was because he was afraid Eddie was going to out him. Closet gays could be that way. In for a fuck, but heaven forbid anyone found out. That was why Eddie usually avoided them. He couldn’t deal with the angst and drama. The worst kind were the ones who were still convinced they were straight; they could get violent. But Eddie would never tell someone else’s secret for them. He didn’t need more problems.

He sauntered casually up to grab and pull on a pair of his own work gloves,

“Thank you ever so much for helping us, Em.”

No response. Eddie decided to be a bit cheekier.

“Interesting name. Up until that night at the stadium I was thinking of you as ‘blue streaks.’”

No break in the other man’s pulling and wrenching.

“You inspired my own hair statement. Like the pink?”

Eventually, Em stopped what he was doing and stood back as if surveying his work.

“We don’t have to talk.” Em said, voice like gravel.

“Oh but I do. I love to talk.”

Em shook his head and went back at the wall. “Then don’t expect me to answer you.”

“But it would be so much more pleasant, passing the time with conversation.”

The ensuing silence was broken by the screeching sound of nails parting with the heavy board they were buried in, and crunch of metal. Eddie rolled his eyes and sighed in defeat. Fine, he was clearly going to be no fun at all.

“You don’t have to worry, dear Em. Your secret is safe with me.” Eddie said, picking up a broom, and moving towards the door, so he could start cleaning it out.

Em said nothing, and it remained that way until Bren got back. He glanced between the two and looked at Eddie with an intense look. Eddie returned it with a shrug, wordlessly professing his innocence. How would Bren even be able to tell if Em was upset? He always looked angry anyway.

-8-

Work on Blue House Mach 2 ended up taking three weekends. “How did Helen do this in one weekend?” Brendan huffed beside Eddie as they measured and cut replacement board.

“She has peons. Many more than I do apparently.” Eddie replied. He didn’t mind the labour really, but he minded things taking too long. And Em’s silently angry presence was getting on his nerves. “Time to call in the lazy troops.”

So they forced Christian, Jordan and Laurel to come help on the last weekend, so that it would get done. Many hands made light work.

Eddie ended up regretful, because watching Christian and Brendan work together was painful. Brendan turned into the softest, cuddliest of stuffed animals around Christian, and Christian was just there, his world full of Brendan, staring up at him like he was the sun and Christian was the flower. Even Laurel found them nauseating, but the ache in Eddie’s gut was for a different reason. Eventually, Christian mentioned it was thirsty work, and Eddie took the opportunity to leave, saying he would get refreshments. He went to find a bench to sit on and recover before his broken heart started bleeding out of his ears.

He was alone for barely ten minutes, sitting with his longs legs crossed and staring out at nothing before he heard footsteps from behind him. He turned to look and saw Em approaching, a lit cigarette trailing smoke behind him. He came to stand beside the bench acting like he just happened to be there, not acknowledging Eddie at all.

Then he held out his pack to Eddie.

Eddie stared at like it was a moonrock, they hadn’t spoken since that first day. “I don’t smoke.”

Em shrugged. “Funny, you look like a guy who could use a smoke.”

Eddie's eyes narrowed at him, but the man just kept staring at the sky, blowing clouds of smoke into the air. Eventually, completely against his better judgment, he withdrew a cigarette and the lighter tucked into the box with it. Eddie had smoked before, socially, though he had never developed a habit. His Mamma would be direly disappointed, and he had enough of that already. After lighting up, he passed the lighter back, which Em took wordlessly

“Thank you.” Eddie said quietly, unnerved by the fact that Em had noticed enough to see Eddie wasn’t quite himself.

Eddie inhaled carefully, tasting the smoke before he breathed too deeply in case he didn’t like it. But it was light, the flavour one he preferred, and he felt a slight relaxation in the mere act of holding a cigarette to his lips. He tried blowing a circle, which he had never practiced enough to get right.

Eventually Em spoke.

“I’m not worried you’ll out me.” He said through a rasping throat. Honestly, did the man have permanent laryngitis?

Eddie looked at him sidelong. “So why?”

Em looked down for a second and fidgeted with his cig. “I don’t do one night stands. I thought you would tell people about that.”

Eddie snorted. “Honey, I don’t kiss and tell.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“Well, you can lay your worries to rest. I don’t spill other people’s secrets. It gives me no pleasure and just causes drama.”

Em didn’t reply to that, having said what he wanted to say.

“So you weren’t afraid of me outing you? I had you pegged for a closet-lover.”

Em contrived to look even angrier, and flicked Eddie an irritated look. “You shouldn’t assume things.”

“Are you dating someone?”

“No.”

“So you’re out?”

“Why does it matter?”

“Because you act like it doesn’t.”

Em dragged on the cigarette looking like he regretted starting this conversation.

“I don’t see why my sexual preferences are anyone’s business. I can be gay without broadcasting it.”

Realisation dawned on Eddie, and he laid a hand across his chest. “Oh, you mean like me.” He said slightly caustically.

Em, looked significantly at Eddie’s shirt, which said “So gay I can’t even think straight.’ Eddie looked down at it and shrugged.

“I’m proud. I don’t see why I should hide it.”

Em shook his head. “No kidding.”

Eddie felt nettled. “If you’re so openly gay, why doesn’t Brendan know? Does anyone know?”

Em was clearly done with the conversation. He dropped the butt on the ground and stood on it. “The important people know. Do I have to wear pink if I’m gay? Or blue if I’m straight?” he said, his tone irritated. He turned and walked back the way he’d come.

“Lovely talk.” Eddie yelled to him, and took a last pull on his cigarette, which had become mostly ash anyway. He did however, think on Em’s words for a time before heading back, and passing by the local kiosk to buy everyone a coke first.