Hey y'all! So... I guess I kind of entered a new fandom. Which is just fantastic (sarcasm) seeing how many other stories I have to update. But... when you gotta do it, ya gotta do it. And when I saw this movie, I knew that this had to be done. Another one shot series had to be started.

Anyhow, to the topic. This will be a oneshot series of mostly hurt/comfort focusing on the element of the movie that I had wanted to see the most of. Father/son fluff to the max. I will be taking requests, so if you have something you want to see, feel free to leave a comment. Not that I discourage comments. Because I don't. Comment away!

HOWEVER I need to make something about this clear. Requesting to see minimal character OC's is fine. I do allow that. For example, a new social worker who will appear in one chapter (if she/he's nameless or given no in depth characteristics) or possibly one of Sherman's friends (the same goes for this character). But I WILL NOT be doing any requests of personal, drawn out characters whose purpose is to be in the entirety of the fic OR an extra adoption fic. These are the two that are not allowed in this story, and while I will respond cordially to the requests and explain why, I will not be writing any that involve any of these topics. I apologize to those who have already requested it, but these are not things that I ever allow in my fics unless specified.

Thanks so much! And, for any of my other readers who happen to check this out, I will be updating this week! This time I swear! I'm home for break and I finally have a moment to breathe! You will see what happens next in all of your favorite stories!

Now, onto the story!

~Gal

o0o

"I sometimes wake in the early morning & listen to the soft breathing of my child & I think to myself, this is one thing I will never regret & I carry that quiet with me all day long."

~Brian Andreas

o0o

It was brought up at bedtime.

But, in the Peabody household, it would seem, most things were brought up at bedtime. Like secrets were stashed under pillows like hotel chocolates, hushed whispers stuck in the folds of sheets, released once they were pulled up to chins and tucked around feet. Skeletons tend to stay in closets until nightfall, anyway, coming out to dance in their waistcoats and frills until mouths open and spilled out the correct combinations to open vaults of chests and make their bones crumble- parchment paper of Shakespeare and documents of the old hissing through the empty caverns.

And, for reasons quite unknown, secrets and revelations were most prevalent nearer to bedtime. If you'd asked Peabody why this was, he would tell you, in too many words to understand, that nearer to nighttime, his guard was lowered significantly. This, of course, was highly untrue. Peabody had the guard of a roman empire stuck around his consciousness and rarely allowed anyone to see past the masses. At nighttime they merely crept back into large horses to hide until disturbed by a stray I love you or an affectionate goodnight that he wasn't sure how to respond to.

But that night had been different. As many nights, much to his relief and dissatisfaction, would tend to be for quite a long time. Because, as much as he loved and hated to admit it, things had changed. For better or for worse, he could not say. But things had begun to change between him and a certain boy who resided within the walls of the penthouse with him. And, up until very recent points, was not much more than 'his boy'. Or, at least, that was how it would seem to an outside world that Peabody hid them both away from whenever they were seen together in public.

And, that night at bedtime, to be precise, the gears that had been stuck together with rust and gum and whatever else had tried to stall them for so long, broke free and shifted. Albeit, slowly, but they shifted all the same.

A yawn sounded from the rear of the WABAC… again. Mr. Peabody sighed, though there was a hint of content in the sound. Relief to hear it. It had woken him from his deep thinking, words running through his head like mathematical equations or red error codes.

Mistake mistake mistake mistake.

The distraction was much appreciated.

"You're going to bed as soon as we get home," the white dog had taken over the wheel once more. Sherman had almost hit a building. And after doing so well driving a quick inspection showed the boys eyes beginning to droop. Understandable, seeing how long the day had been for all of them. "Right after we land I want your teeth brushed and your face cleaned, understand?"

"But Mr. Peabody…" the redhead complained softly, slumped in one of the chairs.

"No buts. In my opinion we've both suffered far too much excitement for one day and I do believe that ample rest is in order. Besides, you have school tomorrow."

Sherman glanced up forlornly. "But Mr. Peabody-"

"What did I just say about buts!"

"To not to…" came the mumbled reply.

Peabody rolled his eyes heavenward for a moment. "Yes, exactly. Now, I now that your first day was… unsatisfactory. But tomorrow will be different. Don't you have the new club after classes? I thought you were looking forward to that!" There was a mumbled affirmative that didn't sound completely dejected. "And, might I add, as a lover, sponsor and advocate of all things that aid in the pursuit of knowledge, getting a day off of school will be very difficult for you."

"Not even if I'm sick!"

"...that is an exception."

"Oh. Okay."

Landing the machine was fairly easy. Reporters from down below kept trying to follow them in cars and on motorbikes, but stealth mode was an easy fix, and they soon landed in the laboratory. The machine shut down with a few stray whirrs here and there, humming, happy for the break. Sherman yawned as quietly as he could, eliciting a smirk from his guardian, and stretched in place, following the beagle out of the red sliding door.

"I didn' finish my homework though, Mr. Peabody."

"I think that they'll understand. I'll write you a note."

"Do you think my teacher will understand that we time travelled?"

"If she doesn't we'll send her a newspaper the next day. It will be all over the news, anyhow."

"But didn't you ask them to take my name out?" He had, in fact. Sherman wasn't completely wrong. It was more that he threatened to find ways of firing each and every reporter if they ever mentioned Sherman in a broadcast, newspaper or radio report. The boy was supposed to live a normal home life. And while that was already difficult, seeing as where they lived and who he lived with, it could be made easier by allowing him to not see his name scribbled on billboards.

"I'll take care of it all." They exited the laboratory. "Don't fret over anything. It's too late for that now, anyway."

Another yawn. "Okay, Mr. Peabody."

The dog nodded. "Right then. Come Sherman, we're going to get you upstairs." Come Sherman…

And, like the good child he was, he obeyed.

I'm not a dog. That fact had been made clear in red vortexes and high strain. I'm not a dog! He could see why he'd said it. Beginning to notice the whistles that called out to him, the commands. His son, though his affections for him were great, could sometimes be regarded in such a way as to be treated as he had declared. Only for a few seconds at a time, but he hadn't realized that those seconds had counted.

And yet, as much as his son was quick to declare what he wasn't, he was even quicker to declare what he was.

A mistake.

"Mr. Peabody, are you okay?"

The dog shook himself out of his stupor for a moment. "What? Oh… yes, Sherman. I'm fine." He hadn't noticed that they'd been in the elevator, buttons already pushed by the childs hand. "I'm just thinking, that's all." In fact, he was fairly sure he'd be thinking all night, words running through his head. Mistake, mistake mistake, mistake…

"-and I've already started learning a ton more in history, but I know more dates than anyone else." His thoughts were broken again by the boys voice. Sherman, finally having accepted that he was not getting out of school the next day had simply switched into a more positive outlook on it all. Peabody smiled in his direction, both stepping out of the elevator when the doors slid open. The boy was happy to simply ramble on about what he knew, what he learned. "But Mr. Peabody, when you had gotten us out of egypt… an'- an' when you got us away from all those Trojan soilers… that was… pretty fantastic! I'm going to know so much for tomorrow! The teacher already likes me, I think, but I can show her everything else that I know an-"

Yes, the boy would most likely not be lying awake with the word mistake in his head.

And maybe, to Peabody's sad conclusion, it was because he didn't regret it.

Perhaps, to his strange horror- and Peabody eyed the boy who meant so much in his life- he truly thought that he was.

It had never occurred to the dog that his boy had ever thought himself worth less than he was. He was content, of course. Mr. Peabody made sure he was well fed and given the home he had never received. But affection from his side was frugal and only appeared with complicated words and sentences. He just hadn't realized it was sparing enough to analyze as anything but love.

And then, the most horror filled thought of them all washed over him like a wave.

If Miss Grunion had truly been able to take him away, Sherman would have gone without knowing what he'd left.

Maybe it was a selfish thought, but he didn't care. The thought of his son, thrown into cars, foster systems, orphanages (a terrible enough image that he knew would give him nightmares for weeks) thinking that he had come from a place where he was liked. Because that's, after all, what all children want. To think that they were simply liked. That everything they received was default, like some power setting stashed in the backs of children's heads that read WHEN BOUGHT FOLLOW DIRECTIONS FOR CARE. Because mistake meant unintentional, and unintentional meant unwanted, and unwanted meant never wanted and never wanted meant…

… mistake.

It was a cruel circle, and even if Sherman had no qualms about it, Peabody was stuck on it, circling around and around.

He had almost lost his boy… his son today. And his son would have left never knowing his father loved him.

"Teeth brushed, Sherman." He had to remember that he still had a son to take care of through his own thoughts. "I'll come say goodnight in fifteen minutes."

"Yes, Mr. Peabody!" The boy stopped his rambled and flashed the dog the crooked smile he was beginning to appreciate more and more by the second.

"And don't forget to pack up your backpack for tomorrow!" he called down the hall last minute, which he was met with a;

"I won't, Mr. Peabody!"

Peabody sighed. It was already going to be a long night for him. Staring down the hall where his boy had left, he felt the fur on the back of his neck stand on end. The fear of losing him, whenever the thought came back, was fresh and new. Thinking it was one thing. Having it happen was another. And they had been just so close. Far too close. And it was becoming more evident by the second just how much he would not be able to survive without his son.

Perhaps he had created the time machine in an act of kindness, a way of educating and a simple afternoon project.

But, perhaps, unknowingly in the back of his mind the dog had created it with the intention of holding time close. Because time, something he never had considered, was too precious. And even if you messed with every strand of it from the past and the future, when it came to the time of a person you cared about, there was no way to fly a time machine there and change every mistake. Those were permanent, and forever would be present.

He had made too many mistakes. But that didn't mean he couldn't start amending for them now.

As promised, fifteen minutes later, Peabody was pulling blankets up the chin of a very tired, but still very active minded boy. "Do you think that everyone in the past remembers today?"

Peabody chuckled, smoothing the comforter. "I'm sure they do."

"Mr. Da Vinci must have so many more ideas for inventions!" His hands extended above his head like little fireworks. "Just think! He might invent so many more amazing things now! And it would be because of us!"

The dogs paws gently grabbed the still spread fingers, lowering excited arms back to the bed, continuing his tucking job. "It certainly would be. And I'm sure that he'll show us all his new ideas when we visit again."

"Can we visit again soon!" Large brown eyes stared through lenses, that smile spreading across innocent features.

"I don't see why not. This weekend isn't too busy. I have one quick press phone call, but afterwards there isn't too much to do."

"That's pretty fantastic!"

"Yes, indeed it is." He tucked the covers again, fluffed the pillows behind the boys head- something for his hands to do. A frown appeared, pulling down his features for a moment, ideas running quick, interrupted only by algorithms that were trying to take the place of actual needed words and were quickly drowned out by those same necessities.

"Mr. Peabody?" Came the worried voice, head lifting off the pillow.

"Sherman…" because there was no way to say this. How could he possibly explain this? But the words came anyway. "Before I adopted you…" and when they did come, he wasn't sure of what to say. But he said it anyway, "...I blew up my laboratory."

It was the most random thing he had ever said. In his entire existence with Sherman, never had he simply blurted out a fact. Every idea, every pun, had a meaning behind it. And now, here at bedtime, he had simply said I blew up my laboratory But his brain often worked faster than his mouth and while most days he controlled it, it would seem that need was winning over everything. And something had to connect to the strange comment. Enough to make a point.

Sherman didn't seem bothered by the strange sentence, happy just to talk to his father for another few moments, the attention drunk in like sweet tea. Already wide orbs grew wider. "Really!?"

"Yes. New Yorkers reported shaking. Everyone thought there was an earthquake in the city before I explained what had happened. And it shocked everyone, even me. To this day no one really talks about it. And… after I got you, I created an invention meant to make solar power more accessible and cheaper. But… it set fire to the mayors building."

The boy held back a giggle and Peabody smirked. "I'll admit, it was not one of my shining moments. But there were so many that were far worse to come."

"Really? But…" and the smile faded, but only for a moment, "I thought you did everything right."

This time a laugh did emerge from the beagles mouth. "Hardly. I've destroyed things many a time. And for every few inventions I can promise that there is a failure more massive than all the successes. And, no, you cannot see them." The falling of the boys face was comical. Peabody's smile softened fondly, and he brushed the red hair back. "I've made so many mistakes in my career. And they've all come with some regret and a urge to create something better. But each of them has been a mistake nonetheless."

"I guess not everything you do is all that fantastic, huh, Mr. Peabody?" he leaned back into the pillow happily, smiling, eyes drooping just the slightest.

"No, not everything Sherman. As much as you seem to believe, I'm not perfect. And I've made too many mistakes to count. And almost every invention began with a mistake. But…" his heart beat for a moment, thumped against his ribcage as he watched his boy drink in every word, susceptible to believing everything his father said because he looked up to him more than any other. "...but not everything I've done is a total mistake."

The boy said nothing this time, just listened.

"The time machine, for instance. Yes, there was a mistake here or there. And some of my ideas for peace have been good, but will never always work. But… I don't wish to change them. However, there are some things I wish I could go back and change." A breath. "Some of the ways that I chose to raise you were… questionable, I suppose."

"But I love traveling in the past!"

"And I would never change that." the dog explained coolly. "But there are… other things. Because, you see, Sherman, all parents make mistakes when raising their children." Another beat. "Sherman, I think… what I mean is… everything I've done has come with mistakes."

"Everything?"

"Everything." A beat. "Well, not everything." A breath. "Out of everything I've done, Sherman, there has only been one thing that remains free of mistakes."

"What?"

A larger breath, a smile, a brush of red hair. "My choice to adopt you."

And Sherman blinked. Because that was all he could do. Just take in what his father had said with a sort of unbelievable awe.

"I'm just telling you this because I need you to know that while I have made mistakes, you will never be one of them. And… I think that sometimes even I forget how much you mean to me. But that doesn't matter right now. What I need you to know is that while some of my choices with you have been mistakes, you never were. Do you understand?"

Sherman was silent, brows crunched together in deep thought. "But… but I thought that… I said so many bad things today… and Miss Grunion…" a shaky breath. Mr. Peabody waited. "I thought that since… since it was all my fault you might regret… regret…" brown eyes looked up, pleading, "me."

"No," paw brushing hair. "Never Sherman. I could never regret you."

"Not even when I'm being bad?"

"Not even then." A smile, father looking down at son. "Though this may be hard for you to believe, with all the amazing machines I've created, and the time machine and where we live, you, Sherman, are the greatest thing to ever happen to me."

And he promptly found his arms filled with Sherman.

The boy buried his face into the fur at his father's shoulder, glasses lifting from their place on his son's nose to bump the dogs collar bone, bow tie tickling his ear. There was a string of mumbled words that Peabody hardly understood accompanied by warm tears that soaked through his white coat, but he hardly cared, content to just hold his son as tightly as he could, assure himself that he was there, not taken away. He was still his, and they would be together for a long time. Peabody breathed deeply, his nose filled with the smell of his boy, and he had to shake the relieved blur from his eyes.

A sniffle, a light snort, "I love you, Mr. Peabody." That had been easy to understand, and he heard it clearly. Words caught in his own throat, Peabody just lightly brushed his sons back, rough pads moving across space man pajamas.

"I…" the words were stuck, as they seemed to always be. "I…" why couldn't he just say it. "I have a deep regard for you as well… Sherman…" and, for one more day, they would be stuck. Because those words seemed to follow the rule of one day at a time, as he feared they would continue to do forever. Sherman stayed silent against his fathers shoulder after that. Maybe it was for comfort, maybe it was disappointment. Either would have been applicable, Mr. Peabody knew, and he cursed himself for not being able to do more.

But when Sherman did pull away, tracks still shimmering down cheeks, wiped away by hurried fists, he was smiling. Beaming up at his father with more love than Mr. Peabody could ever give. And in that moment, he confirmed that, no, Sherman would never be a mistake. And he had meant every word he had said. His son really was the best thing to happen to him. And even if he'd never be able to prove it, somehow Sherman still had no qualms about letting his father know just how much love he held for him. And, in Peabody's opinion, it was more than he deserved. But that was the wonder of Sherman. He would always disagree, and always make sure Mr. Peabody, in some strange way, knew it.

"Right," Peabody plucked the glasses from Sherman's face, folding the ends and placing it by his bedside. "Its time for you to sleep. I'll wake you up tomorrow for school. Do you know what you're wearing?"

"Yes, Mr. Peabody."

"And you remembered to put the red announcement folder in your backpack."

"Yes, Mr. Peabody."

"And you know what you want for lunch tomorrow."

That took a longer moment to reply. "Peanut butter sandwich, Mr. Peabody."

"Good." He hopped off the bed, placing his paw on his sons brow for the last time that night. "Get some sleep. I'll see you in the morning."

"Okay." But as he was walking towards the door. "Mr. Peabody?"

"Yes, Sherman."

"I don't regret you either."

Peabody's heart stalled. Mouth moved to respond, he swallowed twice. "Thank you, Sherman." And he flicked off the light, closing the door behind him. For a long moment he stood by the door, hand on the knob. The statement had made no sense and total sense at the same time. But it had done something to him. He shook his head, but the buzzing would not leave. And neither would the grin that was plastered to his face.

He looked back at the door, nodded at the pictures on the wall in approval, and then headed towards his own room to bed.

Perhaps tomorrow he'd try to get the words, stuck in his throat, out for the first time. He was beginning to realize that he'd do even that for Sherman.

That night, though his thoughts were somewhat invaded by haunting words, they were chased away by a small child saying "Mr. Peababa" until every one the nightmares faded into blue time tubes and happy memories. And even if he'd be forever haunted by what had been said, the same small boy was, most of the time, the one to save him from those thoughts and dreams. Not far from real life at all. And reason to keep hoping.

Aaaaand that's all I got! For now, of course. Like I said, there are a few more already written, and suggestions are always much appreciated. This is going to be another hurt comfort fic because

a) people seem to like those

b) after "Protect", I found that a lot of people seem to like when I do angst. So, like the people pleaser/under peer pressure person I am (alliteration!) I am always happy to give the people what they want

Hope that this made you feel all happy inside! More to come!

Read and Review because, like every broke college student, these are my forms of both love and currency. GIVE ME WHAT YOU GOT!

~Gal