Wilbur Robinson may have been a seriously twisted, confused boy; but a coward he was not. He needed only seconds to compose himself for the incoming leap of faith. Gingerly, he grabbed the smooth handle of the door and slid it slowly to the side, peeking inside the room. His father was sleeping alone in the humongous four-poster bed, and cloth of various weights and shades of blue draped from every angle, encasing his sleeping form in a flowing cocoon. The headboard was made from sleek sheets of chrome, and it refracted the soft morning light peeking in from the automatic blinds. It was tastefully engraved with the family crest, which more well-known as the Robinson Industries logo. To Wilbur, it all looked very regal, and he approached his King meekly - his eyes focused and intent on their purpose. Cornelius appeared to be in a deep slumber, sprawled out somehow quite gracefully across the entire bed. It was then Wilbur noticed how much bigger this version of his beloved was – indeed, his large feet even dangled out over the end of the bed a little. Wilbur hesitated only for a moment before he crawled obediently across the vast bed on hands and knees. He crouched next to the sleeping form, his heart slamming against his chest with an unfamiliar emotion. His breath hitched upon seeing the angelic sleeping face, the same face he had admired just this morning in literal afterglow. Sure, there were differences between the two…This version had grown into his features, which were now sharper and less like a cherub. Wilbur gulped noisily in his throat as he reached out a hand to stroke the side of the sleeping man's face. The skin felt different, too. Sort of raspy, like soft sandpaper, and tickly on the tips of his fingers. He decided he didn't like it much, and wondered offhandedly when he would grow such a ghastly thing.

Without warning, the so-far peaceful sleeper's eyes flew open, piercing into the shocked almonds of brown. Wilbur was like a deer caught in the headlights, but he was beyond doing nothing now. Even as the face he was stroking turned stern, nothing would stop him now from finding out his true feelings.
"It's that day, isn't it." The deep rumble of his father's voice took him off guard.
"That…day?"
"The one I will never forget. I'm sleeping in the Rumpus Dome right now, aren't I?" He offered, expressionless.
Wilbur's face burned. Oh god, that's right. Last night, he'd gotten to many, many bases with his own father from the past – whom, of course, would have remembered every detail. He hung his head in shame, mumbling dejectedly into his chest. "That is an excellent question."
"But it's not the most important one to you, I think." His father stated, and it rang true.

Wilbur didn't even have time to react. Cornelius grabbed the thin arm of his son and removed it from his own cheek, in turn rolling over in the bed and leaning over him. It was intimidating to say the least, and Wilbur stared up at him with the look of the lamb. Light peeked through the abundant cloth of the bed-drapes and framed Cornelius' golden broomish hair from behind, and for a second the boy below him was convinced he had seen an angel. But Wilbur's heart leapt hopefully in his chest as the bright blue eyes from above finally lidded, and their lips met in a light kiss.

It was innocent in every way. Neither chose to deepen it, and Wilbur was the one to part first, a very confused expression splashed across his young features.
"It was…"
"You felt nothing, right?" Cornelius ventured, leaning up on his elbows rather nonchalantly.
Wilbur lay unmoving on the bed, completely gob smacked. He was right. The kiss was, at most, a family kiss. Friendly; a greeting, and completely lacking in passion. Compared to the kisses he had exchanged with his Lewis last night, that was most disappointing.
He turned his head on the pillow, his face full of questions. Cornelius replied with a sad smile, before moving his hand to ruffle Wilbur's perfectly gelled hair.
"It's because…if you think about it, Lewis isn't me. Yet." He explained earnestly. "We can change a lot in thirty years, you know. The person you have grown to love is a boy of twelve called Lewis…I stopped being Lewis the day I meet the Robinsons." A trace of fondness was noticeable in his deep, dewy voice.
Wilbur nodded slowly; it was true. Cornelius may look like his Lewis, but…the chemistry was just not there. The Lewis he knew was sweet, innocent, nerdy, and best of all, his age.
"Your brain has successfully made the separation between my current self as your father, and myself in the past as...well, you know. To you, and to me, they are two completely different people."
With a thoughtful hum, Wilbur closed his eyes for a moment and breathed in slowly. "I find it hard to believe you would approve of Lewis and I's relationship, but…" He paused, a look of disgust dawning on his face. "…You know everything Lewis and I…did, and will do. Isn't that at least a little weird?" Wilbur questioned, fearfully. How could his father be so blasé about this obviously fucked up situation? His father knew very intimate details about his own son's sex-life - nay, he had technically experienced them for himself. It was a bit incesty, if he did say so himself, but that word was a little too close to home right now.
Cornelius chuckled good-naturedly. "I need to show you something…"
Wilbur looked up suspiciously from his pillow as the other rummaged in the bedside table for god-knows-what. His mind almost went places – almost, but then he remembered, hey, you know what, this dude is your DAD.

What his father ended up producing was in fact a series of old-style paper photographs, not at all like the iLED's. Some were slightly faded, their edges lovingly dog-eared from much use, and some were much newer. All of them contained Cornelius and a familiar-looking (not to mention really, really, ridiculously good-looking) tall man of around the same age, sporting dark hair and eyes. Wilbur pointed at a picture of the pair standing in front of the red time machine. They were holding hands in a very not-just-friends way, and the sparkle of pure happiness and love apparent on their faces made Wilbur melt. He wished he could know this kind of unity and bliss, ideally with his adorable and nerdtastic Lewis.
"Who's the hottie?" He asked, referring to the other man in the photos. "And does mom know about this?" He exclaimed, upon flicking to a picture of the happy couple cuddling on a beach.
"That is…the future Wilbur. He makes me call him Will." Cornelius said fondly, using his hand to guide the other edge of the photograph towards himself to get a better view. "And no, your mother doesn't know. She thinks Will is your long-lost uncle."
Wilbur looked up at his father, wanting to read his expression, as he didn't know how he was supposed to feel about this new information himself. Although calm as always, his father looked dismayed at the thought of lying to his wife.
"Don't get me wrong, I love them both, in my own way." He said slowly, wanting to choose his words carefully. "But after today, back then, I knew…if I wasn't with her, Will would never exist…You. You would never have been born. And I love you both too much to bear that."
Wilbur's eyes welled up with tears as he finally recognized the handsome man in the photographs. He'd never known. This whole time, Uncle Will, the fun and hip man who visited the Robinsons twice a month ever since he could remember, was…
Himself.
"How long?" He said quietly, the disbelievement he felt was overwhelming. "How long have Lewis and I…you and Will…been together?"
Cornelius placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, and his eyes looked watery too. "Until Lewis and Frannie birth you…you cannot ever see him. The temptation would just be too great. And you would end up disappearing like the last time we messed with the future." His brow furrowed, as though remembering some painful past. "The heartbreak – it's not going to be easy, son. But if you persevere…and remember...in nine years time, you'll be able to be with him again. It's too dangerous now to see each other before you're born…I…I think it's best you and Lewis are separated until then."
Wilbur sobbed and clutched at Cornelius' shirt, before being pulled into a tight embrace. Cornelius let his own tears flow freely down his cheeks, the pearls of woe landing softly on the dark head of hair against his chest. He inhaled sharply as a long-forgotten memory flashed into his mind, and he looked slowly towards the bedroom door. A second pair of watered blue eyes, framed by large spectacles, seemed to mirror his expression as they locked across the room with his. He nodded solemnly and held his son tighter, as outside the door a spindly robot arm entwined with the boy from the pasts'. Lewis had time for one more look at the boy he loved, before the unmatched pair of robot and young master trod dejectedly towards the garage, where the bright red vessel that was the cause of so much pain lay in wait.