Windows 2006

It's a truth universally acknowledged that a former pop star with time on his hands must be in want of attention.

For Chris, this was especially true. And since time on his hands also meant grave and deep boredom, his friends had long since learned to cringe and run far, far away when Chris got bored. It had led to things like broken furniture, broken cars, even broken wrists. It just plain never ended well.

That's why Joey ("I have to rehearse for Dancing with the Stars, see you in six months"), Justin ("Cam needs some attention, if you know what I mean") and JC ("Aw, man, I'm glad you called, really, but I have this guy here, you know, and we have to work on this song, and man, you're gonna cry when you hear this song, because, dude, it's just that good. Oh, man, here, let me play it for you, okay? Chris? Hello?") were well-practiced at getting away as quick as they could. Lance had the skills, too. Lance, in fact, was the first to figure out that escape plans were needed and instructed the others on signs to look for. But sometimes, despite that, and he was never sure how, Lance was the one to get caught up in Chris's messes.

One of these days, he was going to figure out how that happened.

"C'mon, Bass," Chris wheedled. "I'm bored! The band is on hiatus and my family is in Pennsylvania."

"The band has been on hiatus for years, Chris, haven't you noticed?" Lance asked.

"Not our band, the new one," Chris said. "Too many hiatuses. Hiatusi. Hia-breaks. Too many breaks. Get your ass out here, Bass, you need the sunshine."

"Shockingly, there's sunshine here in California, too," Lance said.

"Not the good kind!" Chris protested. "You need the good kind. Get some color on those pale cheeks of yours."

Lance rolled his eyes. "Sure, Chris. I'll get right on that."

"See that you do," Chris said. "By coming - oh, holy mother of God."

"Oh, what did you do now?" Lance said, with a sigh. There was silence. "Chris? I'm going to hang up, Chris." He waited.

"I'm here," Chris said, but he sounded uncertain. "I'm - I've got to go. Bye."

"Chris?" Lance said, but there was only dial tone. "Oh, damn it." He disconnected and dialed his travel agent. "Lucy, I need a flight to Orlando."

Fucking Kirkpatrick. It worked every time.

**

"Chris? Where are you?" Lance called, setting his bags down in Chris's foyer the next afternoon. "Chris?"

"Lance? What the hell are you doing here?" Chris appeared at the top of the stairs, rubbing at his eyes.

"You called me, remember?" Lance said. "Told me to get some sunshine? Then hung up on me."

"Which you should have recognized as a sign that you didn't need to come," Chris said.

"No, I recognized it as a cry for help," Lance said. "What's going on?"

"Nothing, nothing," Chris said.

"Right," Lance said, skeptically. "Have it your way. I'm getting coffee." He headed off towards the kitchen. As he passed the window looking out over Chris's backyard, he caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of his eye. He paused and turned his head, but saw only green grass. He shook his head. Clearly he was in greater need of coffee than he thought.

"Why'd you stop?" Chris asked from behind him.

Lance jumped. "Damn, when did you get so quiet?" he grumbled. "I don't know. I thought I saw something."

"Something like what?" Chris asked, bouncing.

"I don't know, that's why I looked," Lance said. "Geez, how much coffee have you had? You're practically vibrating."

Chris shrugged. "Enough." He followed Lance into the kitchen.

Lance opened the cabinet next to the sink, where he knew Chris kept the good beans and pulled out his favorite. He closed it, turned towards the sink and only the knowledge of what Chris would do to him if he dropped the precious bag allowed him to keep his grip. He set them down, gently, on the counter and turned to Chris. "Why is there a pterodactyl in your backyard?"

"It's a pterodon, actually," Chris said. "I looked it up online yesterday. I call her Myfanwy."

"Mih-van-wee?" Lance said, stumbling over the unfamiliar word. "Why?"

"It's Welsh," Chris said. "I think it's in Wales. Or some version of Wales. It fit."

"Right," Lance said. "And the fact that it's dark out that window?"

"Time difference?" Chris suggested.

Lance pressed his fingers to his forehead. "How are you making this sound logical?"

"Sleep deprivation," Chris said. "And a lot of coffee."

"And why am I accepting it?" Lance asked.

"Probably because you saw a pterodon in what used to be my backyard," Chris said.

Lance looked out the window again. The dinosaur was still there.

"It gets better," Chris said.

"I don't want to know," Lance said.

Chris pointed to the kitchen door, leading to the patio. "Go look."

"Oh, God," Lance said, but inched towards the door and peeked through the glass. "Wait. There's nothing there."

"Exactly," Chris said.

"But it's the same view as the window. Where's Myfanwy? And the nighttime?" Lance craned his neck to look out the other window. "It's still...damn it, it's an illusion. I thought I was losing my mind." He punched Chris in the shoulder. "Jack ass. How much did you pay for a stunt like that?"

Chris sighed. "I wish." He opened the window over sink and Lance jumped as the pterodon swooped down close, causing the blinds to rustle and Lance to get a whiff of dino-breath.

"Is that barbecue sauce?" Lance asked, wrinkling his nose.

"I think so," Chris said. "She's real, anyway. She showed up yesterday, but she's not the first. I've been seeing things for a month now, just weird things out of the corner of my eye."

"And you didn't say anything?" Lance said. "You always say something!"

"What was I going to say? That I'm seeing things? You'd think I was crazy," Chris said.

"Yes, I know I would have! But you don't usually care about that," Lance pointed out.

Chris shrugged. "I don't know, this was different, all right? I can't explain it. And now I have a pterodon out my kitchen window. Which, by the way, I am so fucking glad that you can see her."

"What are you going to do?" Lance asked. His knees were feeling a little weak and he leaned against the counter.

"Well, not open this window again," Chris said. "Especially if I have barbecue sauce in the house."

"Wait, Chris, what did I see out that other window?" Lance asked. "Was it Myfanwy? In...daytime?"

"No, that's a garden," Chris said. "I think it's in England, a couple centuries ago. Remember when my sister was on that Colin Firth kick? They dress like that one really long movie."

"Pride and Prejudice? You have a window into a fictional book?" Lance asked.

"No, I don't think it's fictional," Chris said. "I don't know. I guess it could be, but it feels real. Like that window feels like Wales. I think it's from that time, not the book."

"This is insane," Lance said.

"Pretty much," Chris agreed.

"Are there any others?" Lance asked.

"I don't know," Chris admitted. "The garden's not always there. And Myfanwy wasn't there before yesterday. It was just the first one I couldn't ignore."

"Okay," Lance said. "I'm going to make coffee. Then we're going to check on all the windows in the house. Then we're going online. We can't be the only ones with this problem."

"We?" Chris asked, quirking his eyebrow.

Lance shrugged, suddenly uncomfortable. He picked up the coffee beans again. "Yeah. We. I see it, too, Chris. I'm here, so, let's get started."

"As you wish," Chris said. "Make me a cup, too."

**

Six hours later, Chris was snoring on the couch and Lance was still researching. It was not a fruitful search. They had found no other odd windows, and the internet wasn't helping. Chris had thought he found something at hour four ("Here, see, they can look through windows in their ship and see a different part of this woman's life in each. That's kind of close"), but it hadn't panned out ("That's a Television Without Pity recap of Doctor Who, Chris"). He had conked out soon after, scrunched and squished, his feet tucked behind Lance's back.

Lance set his laptop to the side and stretched, his back popping cleanly. Chris mumbled in protest and tried to stretch out. Lance stood and stretched again, grinning as Chris promptly took up his space. He headed for the kitchen, intent on food and possibly more caffeine.

He made himself a PB&J, grabbed a Red Bull and waved at Myfanwy before starting back to Chris's living room. He glanced out the garden window - still no one. He set his dinner down on the coffee table, sat on the floor and contemplated how fucking bizarre his life was while he ate. Here he'd thought nothing could get weirder than being in a boy band, but now he was living an episode out of Star Trek. Or possibly, if he believed Television Without Pity, Doctor Who.

It was after he brought his plate back to the kitchen that he heard the music. He walked around Chris's ground floor, pausing at each window until he discovered the one that was open. He peered through it and instead of the neighbor's house, he saw an empty living room. It looked warm and cozy, with a fire flickering in the fireplace and the music playing from a CD player. It sounded....he frowned. It sounded like *NSYNC, but it wasn't a song they had recorded. He watched for a good ten minutes, but no one showed up.

"Lance?"

"Out here," Lance called back.

Chris appeared in the doorway of his living room. "Good. I thought you'd disappeared."

"No, but I found another window," Lance said.

Chris walked over and looked over his shoulder. "Well. That's pretty boring."

Lance laughed, but it came out a bit strangled. Chris was so close, his breath was tickling Lance's neck. "Yeah. I guess I don't inspire much creativity."

Chris pressed closer to Lance and the window. "Is that us? Singing?"

"I thought so, too," Lance said. "But I don't know any of the songs." He turned his head when Chris didn't answer. "Do you?"

Chris was frowning, staring into the room.

"Chris? Do you?" Lance pressed. "If you do, I mean, maybe it's a clue or something."

"A clue?" Chris snorted. His frown faded, but the look in his eyes did not. "Right. You think there are clues in the pterodon and English garden, too?"

"Well, no," Lance said. "I don't think. But if this is us, Chris, then maybe-"

"It's my song," Chris said. "I wrote it. Like, four years ago, after the hiatus started and you went to Russia. I wrote it. For you."

Lance's heart jumped into his throat. "Oh," he managed. "It's, um, nice." Which was an understatement. It was a great song. They'd all been great songs, but this one was for him, and it was just...great.

Chris rolled his eyes. "Thank you." He stepped back. "Anyway. Did you find anything?"

"Not- not really," Lance said. "A Farscape episode. Rifts and shifts of the time-space continuum. There are apparently books we can buy at Borders on the topic, but they don't make them in the Dummies line."

"That's a damn shame," Chris said. "Don't they realize that physics accidents happen to the everyman, too?"

"Guess not," Lance said. "Definite lack of foresight." There was a silence.

"Oh, for God's sake, Bass, stop looking at me like that," Chris snapped, crossing his arms over his chest. "I'm not going to molest you."

"What?" Lance asked, startled.

"Your face. You look like you're a deer in the headlights. It's one song," Chris said. He paused, hearing the next song playing through the window. "Fine, two, whatever. I wrote them a long time ago, you don't have to be afraid that your virtue isn't safe. I won't jump you as you research."

"It's not that, I was just surprised," Lance said, defensively. "It's been a long day."

"Right," Chris said. "I'm going to go look some more stuff up online. See if we can close these things."

Lance watched Chris walk away, shoulders hunched. Damn. He'd really screwed that up, but he'd never even suspected. He glared into the empty room. "Fucking windows."

He wandered around the house, checking out all the windows again. He refused to admit he was avoiding Chris, except that was exactly what he was doing. Nothing new popped up, and after half an hour, he ended up back by the music window. This time, it wasn't empty.

"No way," he breathed. "Oh, damn, no." He backed away and looked away. Then back again. "That is so wrong!" Chris and Justin fucking Timberlake? Not while he was around, thank you very much.

He went into the living room, hesitating when he saw Chris on the couch, slumped over the laptop. He steeled himself and walked over.

"Turns out there might be a reason why I'm the one who ends up caught in your messes," Lance said, sitting down next to Chris.

"What?" Chris asked, staring at him.

Lance shrugged. "I'm just saying. I wish I'd known how you felt back then. That's years of bad boyfriends you could have saved me from, seriously."

"So sorry," Chris said. "I'll work on that."

"You should," Lance said. "I'm sure there are more bad boyfriends I need saving from."

"That's a great line," Chris said.

"Thanks," Lance said.

"That was sarcasm," Chris pointed out.

"I figured," Lance said. "But still. I'm here. I want to be here, with you, and Myfanwy, and the garden and all your crazy windows, but mostly you. If you still-"

"I still," Chris said.

"Good," Lance said, relieved, "because I don't want you to get any ideas when you see our window."

"Our - the music one? What idea would I get?" Chris asked, relaxing against Lance.

"Believe it or not, it's not just our music. It's you and Justin," Lance said. "Your house, I guess. I think it's in Tennessee," he said speculatively.

"Me and J? Seriously?" Chris asked.

Lance smacked his arm. "Don't sound so interested," he said. "You just promised yourself to me."

Chris rolled his eyes. "Right. Because clearly what happens in that window has any bearing on what happens here."

"Still," Lance said, grinning. "It's not very nice."

Chris smirked. "You want nice, you're with the wrong man. I have to say, though. Seeing ourselves. I wonder what'll come next."

Lance shrugged. "I don't know. It is kind of cool, though. Like our own personal movies, made just for us."

"It'd be a shame to get rid of them," Chris said. He closed the laptop and set it on the table. "I say, let the windows stay. There's better stuff we can do with our time than researching, anyway. Don't you think?"

Lance twined his hand into Chris's hair and tugged him closer. "Yeah. I can think of a few things."

**

The months passed. Lance stayed. The windows stayed. New ones opened and closed and came back again. Window watching became one of their favorite activities and they found a few that they looked forward to seeing the most.

"Lance, get the popcorn! The knights and dragons are back!"

"On my way!"

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