"With all due respect, Dad, I am my mother," Hank retorted, "Well, at least before she was my mother. It's not my fault your time machine put me into her body."
"You shouldn't have gotten involved. I was the one who was supposed to go back in time, transporting myself back into my younger self. You got too close, and now you're stuck here, too. This is a disaster."
"How long do you think it will take for you to build another time machine?" Hank sighed.
"That's the thing. That time machine we used... I started building it before you were born, Hank," Jim breathed heavily, "which would make it the same machine."
"Well, what's the problem then?"
"The problem," Jim started tearing up, "The problem is that I only managed the finish it after your mother gave birth to you."
Hank was silenced, "No... That means..."
"That's right. And, if we choose not to build it at all, the moment that day passes –the day I finish the time machine– this version of you, of me, would cease to exist. If we build it, you live the rest of your life as your mother."
Hank nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. He hadn't anticipated getting stuck like this, but there was nothing he could do about it now. He crossed his arms and looked away, still feeling embarrassed for having been caught touching himself earlier.
"Dad..." Hank cried, "Oh God..."
Jim put his hand on his son's shoulder, "Hey, it's not your fault, Hank. You didn't mean for this to happen."
"I'm ...Mom," Hank gaped, "I can't believe it."
"We'll make it work, son. We have to."
"I… Oh no."
"What?"
"I'm going to be pregnant. With you. My own Dad."
Jim cleared his throat, "I'm not sure how to sugarcoat this, but yes. But I promise you, you will eventually want to. The past –your fate– can unfortunately not be changed."
Hank felt like he was going to be sick. He couldn't believe he was going to have a child with his own father. It felt so wrong, so unnatural. But he knew there was nothing he could do about it.
"I need some time for myself," Hank turned white, "I think I'm gonna throw up."
Jim watched as his son stumbled out of the room, running to the bathroom. He knew that this was a difficult situation for Hank, but he had to be strong for him. Jim sighed, leaning back in his chair, rubbing his eyes with his palms. This wasn't how he had envisioned using the time machine.
He had built it, initially, with the intention of going back in time, fixing a few things that he'd regretted doing when he was younger. He never intended to bring his son along with him - that just happened to be a freak accident, a mistake that was going to cost them dearly. Jim was going to have to watch his son, his flesh and blood, carry his own child.
Jim shook his head, standing up and walking over to the window. It was a beautiful day outside, the sun shining down upon the small town they had landed in. A town where Jim had grown up, where he had met his wife.
Jim turned around and made his way to Hank, who was now sitting on the couch in the living room. Hank was sitting on the edge of the couch, his face buried in his hands. Jim walked over to him, placing a hand on his back. Hank looked up at him, tears streaming down his face.
"I'm sorry, son," Jim said softly, "I'm sorry that I got you into this mess."
Hank shook his head, "It's not your fault, Dad. We both got ourselves into this mess."
Jim sat down next to him, "We're going to get through this, Hank. We're going to make this work."
"But how can I learn to love you like Mom loved you? How could I ever be attracted to you?"
"Try not to think about it that way," Jim said gently, "Think of it as an opportunity to bond with me in a way you never could have. We'll be experiencing something together that nobody else can understand. And, I promise you, that as time goes on, your feelings will change. You'll start to see me not just as your father, but as someone you love in a different way."
Hank wiped away his tears, "I hope you're right, Dad."
"I am," Jim said firmly, "I know this isn't going to be easy, but we'll figure it out. We always do."
Hank nodded, a small smile forming on his face, "Okay, Dad. Let's make it work."
"Good," Jim smiled, placing his hand on Hank's thigh, "We'll make the best of this situation, okay?"
Hank leaned into his father's touch, feeling a slight tingle in his stomach. He looked up at Jim, their eyes meeting in a way that made Hank's heart race. Jim's hand moved up Hank's thigh, towards his waist.
"Dad," he whispered, "what are you doing?"
Jim moved closer to Hank, his hand still on Hank's waist. "Do you want me to stop?" he asked softly, his voice full of tenderness and care.
Hank shook his head, too overwhelmed by emotion to speak. Jim leaned in and kissed him lightly on the forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment before pulling back. Hank still said nothing, but the lines around his eyes softened as he closed them and breathed in the scent of his husband.
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