Yep, this was inspired by the Serial Killer AU on Tumblr. It was inevitable really.
Mr. Peabody and Sherman belong to Jay Ward, Ted Key, and DreamWorks. The characters you may not recognize are mine. Speaking of which, I'd recommend reading "Time and Space" first. Otherwise some of the stuff being said in here won't make sense.
"I would rather walk with a friend in the dark, than alone in the light." — Helen Keller
"Mr. Peabody?"
An audible hum full of thought resounded.
Taking that sound as a sign to push on, the little person behind the door opened it further, the creak echoing in the darkness of the office. Due to the closed curtains and blinds sealing away the city lights, illumination only came from the lamp on the desk, its meager light just enough to cast itself over the book and the hands that held it.
An elongated face remained obscured in shadow. Emerald irises flickered in acknowledgement. Though unseen, the warm cultured voice that emanated insured only sanctuary for the visitor.
"Sherman, you should be in bed by now."
At the gentle chiding, a ginger-headed boy in dark blue pajamas finally emerged from his wooden cover, hands folded nervously in front of himself. His bespectacled tangerine eyes met the floor for a tense moment before settling on the smaller figure behind the desk.
"I...I wanted to talk to you about something."
The shadowy form tilted its head. "Would it not be best to save it for morning then? A growing child needs their sleep, after all."
Sherman gulped. As always, his father's logic contained no flaws. However, this was too important a matter to simply wait on, in the boy's opinion. He'd already wasted enough time putting this off.
It was now or never.
"Who are they?"
Oppressive stillness followed.
Sherman swore his father's body displayed the slightest hint of tension; perhaps it was his imagination. He hoped so. Trying to put on a brave face, he called on all his available resolve. "Those people I've seen you talking to: who are they? What do they want from you?"
Somehow the quiet became heavier than before, like the moment a cartoon character realizes an anvil is about to land on their head. Something in Sherman's gut warned him what would follow would dwarf any anvil.
"Sherman."
Uh oh, there was that edge in Peabody's voice. The beginning of tranquil yet warning words ready to coalesce into a hurricane. The book lowered to the desk, a small paw beckoning the boy to come forward. Sherman promptly heeded.
"What's all this about?"
For a moment, Sherman considered lying, only to reject it completely. His father hated lying—abhorred it, actually—and taught him that it's best to face your problems head on. No, he had to get this off his chest, one way or another.
Taking a deep breath, the seven-year old took the plunge. "All those people I've seen you talking to...I'm scared. They don't look nice at all, and I'm worried they might hurt you."
He knew Mr. Peabody was smart, the smartest being the boy ever knew in fact, but even in his innocence he recognized not everyone shared his father's kindness and mercy. This fellow had given him a home and more importantly a family.
Sherman refused to let someone else tear all of that away from him. That thought bolstered the boy's strength and courage as shown by his straightening posture and firming countenance.
"But that's okay. I won't let them do it. I'll protect you. Just like you always protect me."
Moments passed. No answer at first.
A chuckle sounded out to Sherman's surprise and confusion. 'Did I say something funny?'
His answer came just as the chuckling subsided: "You truly are an amazing boy, aren't you?"
Before Sherman could respond, Peabody hopped out of the chair and approached with calm and confidence. A warm hand covered in white fur gently grasped the boy's shoulder. Despite the shadows and the way the light reflected off of Peabody's glasses, Sherman found himself relaxing at the touch.
After all, why would his father ever hurt him?
"Your concern is assuring, I guarantee you. All the same, I've dealt with these sorts of characters before. They will have to wake up quite early to get the drop on someone like me."
Sherman broke eye contact for a second, lips pursed and mind deep in thought. "Well...," his face and eyes brightened at an idea. "Couldn't you make it so you wouldn't have to deal with people like them anymore?"
The outlines of the beagle's mouth momentarily shifted, almost as if to speak. It was not that simple. Sherman was right; these people were dangerous. The worst part: they would not go away even if Peabody did not do business with them.
'Someone such as me is not free to live as they wish without persecution. This is part of the price I must pay for my existence.' And he had no intentions of Sherman sharing in that price. He could not expect the child to understand all this, not at this age.
Perhaps one day, when the madness ceased and safety no longer seemed a fleeting dream. Until then, Sherman would stay in the light where he'd be safe. Just so long as Peabody kept him in the dark.
"Believe it or not, I've met some rather trustworthy allies through my dealings." Power in numbers, after all. "Friends, I suppose you could call them." Peabody put his free hand to his chest. "They have too much at stake to let something happen to a client important as I."
Hearing all this...honestly, Sherman stood at an impasse. One side found assurance that Mr. Peabody would indeed be alright; the other still fretted over what his dad's involvement in all this meant for the future.
So conflicting. Sherman could no longer muster the will to push the argument further.
Peabody realized this as well. His grip switched from Sherman's shoulder to his back as the beagle easily coaxed him to turn around towards the door. "Do get some sleep, Sherman. It will take your mind off of these horrid, horrid thoughts. I'll still be around in the morning. I promise."
Like the obedient child he was reared to be, Sherman did as told. But not before looking his shoulder, eyes full of determination. "I'll be holding you to that, Mr. Peabody."
No shadow could hide the genuine smile. "As you should. Goodnight, Sherman."
His son's cherub face softened in relief. "Goodnight, Mr. Peabody. Love you."
A tousle of red hair constituted Peabody's response. "I have a warm regard for you as well."
The moment Sherman stepped out of the door, Peabody stuck his head out to make sure the child returned to his room right down the hall. Once his keen hearing caught the sound of a door shutting for the night, he closed his own door.
Sounds of a yoyo being slung sifted into the silence.
Peabody regarded the noise with annoyance. "Don't you ever tire of that toy?" he dangerously droned without turning around.
"Nope," a more jovial voice quipped in return. Releasing a resigned breath, Peabody slowly turned. His emerald eyes caught the somewhat taller figure standing in the corner, only its casual lean against the wall and the yoyo visible in the dark. "Kinda sad that you never say 'I love you' to your kid, though."
The beagle wished the voice did not carry so much sincerity. That made the truth all that harder to bear. His chest heaved from a weary sigh. For all his achievements, public and otherwise, the illustrious Mr. Peabody could never properly express his own emotions—least of all to the beautiful boy he welcomed into his home and raised as his own.
With an indignant huff, Peabody tried to regain face. "My family life is of no consequence to you or your duties. Speaking of which, have you acquired what I asked?"
The yoyo retreated into its owner's hand one last time before being pocketed into one waist pocket of the unknown's dark grey T-shirt. "Yeah, yeah, I got it," a hand pulled into the other pocket and pulled out a USB drive. "Don't know why, but I got it."
Peabody stuck a hand out. The figure promptly drew near and placed the drive in it. A silent nod of thanks from the beagle, who turned away to examine his new property, and both males stood in awkward quiet.
Well, Unknown did, anyway.
"You know, it wouldn't kill ya to say something. Our partnership didn't exactly start yesterday."
"You'll receive your money in the morning."
A scoff. "I couldn't give a rat's ass about the greens..." Peabody eyes sidled skeptically. "Okay, I do, but that's not what I meant! You and I have been a team for over five years and knew each other even before that. Not once did you ever use my name since we met back up, let alone treated me beyond a business partner."
"If you expect me to surrender my body to you like some common—"
"Hell no. I know you have more dignity than that and you know—at least I hope you know—that I have better morals than that. Our occupation doesn't exactly make for the best social lives. And that's not even accounting how different we are from everyone else."
Peabody remained silent, eyes keeping their focus on the drive. Anything to distract him from the past.
"Aren't you tired of being alone?"
"I have Sherman."
"He won't be there forever." A warning glare changed his tone. While no fear permeated his voice, Unknown held his hands up in defense. "I mean he'll grow up and leave one day. At least find somebody to keep you company, a friend or whatever."
'Every time he comes here,' Peabody faced his companion with eyes full of thinly veiled irritation. "Why are you so insistent on this subject? I have all I need and everything I could ever want. Perhaps it is you who wishes for 'company'." He made sure to make his voice especially snide. "Though one'd have to be desperate to desire you."
Unknown shrugged his shoulders. "Fair enough. Annoyance is my middle name; laziness, my nickname. Not that it makes a difference. As far as I'm concerned, you're as desperate as they come, too, species be damned."
That answer Peabody did not see coming. Of all the characters he came across during his rise to the top of the underworld, this one never ceased to catch him off guard. Almost like Sherman in a way. Peabody fervently shook his head to rid it of that uncanny comparison.
A hand come in contact with his left shoulder. He halfheartedly swatted it away. "I did not give you permission to touch me," he hissed.
One could literally hear Unknown's eyes roll. "That...was part of my upcoming pep talk."
"I still demand you refrain from touching me without my consent." Too many experiences with torture and beatings in youth made one paranoid like that. No wonder the world's smartest being struggled with physical affection.
A shuffle of feet did not escape the beagle's hearing. Not the most threatening sound. Peabody remained wary, nonetheless, ears trained on his companion's next moves. Once again, he ended up unprepared.
"May I then?"
May I then?
May he?
'He's...asking?'
No sudden moves?
No insults?
If the question were a punch, it would have decked Peabody for sure. And what struck him even more: the meekness. Restraint. Openness. The beagle slowly faced Unknown with wide eyes. His head angled as if tipping from the mystification filling his mind.
His reaction met snickering. Peabody's head reeled back in shock. To be honest, he couldn't decide between feeling offended or reassured.
Unknown regained his self-control. The same could not be said for his playfulness. "What? Never had anybody admit to your face that they like you?"
Again. For the umpteenth time, his feelings fell into disorder. Peabody tore away from Unknown, his gait towards the door measured yet hurried.
'What is happening to me?' Terse overview of his turbulent emotions convinced him to rethink. 'No, what already happened?'
Peabody rubbed his temples in exasperation. Ugh, a cup of tea sounded perfectly relieving right now. Anything to take his mind off of these perplexing feelings.
Much to the beagle's chagrin, Unknown did not know how to take a hint. He promptly followed after him the same way a duckling would its mother, the shadows managing to keep his visage hidden despite his movements.
It was like dealing with a darker version of Bill Murray's character from What About Bob?
'I suppose it is only fitting then I stand for Doctor Marvin. As long as my apartment doesn't end up in flames. '
A sudden thought occurred to Peabody. His green eyes sidled at the shadow-man hopping from one spot on the floor to the other as if playing hopscotch. "If I were you, I would exercise caution in case Sherman were to wake up. He's been known to wake up some nights for a glass of water."
That warning did not have the effect Peabody hoped it would.
Before he could blink or pull away, a muscled arm covered in ebony fur griped him in a tight headlock while another hand noogied him. Like any victim of this move, Peabody struggled to escape his captor's hold, forepaws beating against the meaty arms to no avail. For all his skills and cleverness, the beagle could never compare to Unknown in strength.
Words would have to do. Or more precisely, threats.
"Unless you wish to have a knife in your back, I suggest you release me this instant," Peabody 'kindly' demanded in a deadpan voice.
To the ivory canine's interest, the noogie and headlock changed into a gentle hug. "Talk like that only makes my want even worse," the singsong voice should have grinded on Peabody's nerves.
So why this blossoming warmth instead?
Perhaps there was no point in fighting it. It was inevitable in all. Besides, Unknown's emotional influence piqued the beagle's curiosity, and Peabody was nothing if not curious.
"If you're going to be a guest, you might as well tell me what tea you prefer."
To his relief, Unknown undid the hug, choosing to keep only one arm around the dog's bony shoulders. Peabody decided against brushing it away. No need to ruin the analysis, after all.
'At least we rid ourselves of the body an hour ago. My compatriot needs to do something about his trigger-happiness. We accomplished a splendid job removing the evidence, but it was high time we disposed of it. It would have stunk up the lab otherwise.'
Thank Einstein Peabody's workspace carried the chemicals necessary for preservation. Thinking up a number of methods for effective removal proved child's play as well. The prodigy only needed the extra muscle power; the hapless fool that stumbled across their operations turned out to be a hefty one.
Hence the need for this oaf. Speaking of whom...
"For goodness sake, man, step out of the dark already," Peabody snapped, his voice low as to not awaken Sherman. "If I were not meant to see your face, you would've been smart to be rid of me the moment you first revealed it."
"Now would that be before or after you judo throw my body out the window?"
Peabody swiveled his eyes to his cohort, electing not to point out the illogic in that inquiry. "That depends. With how much fondness do you regard your internal organs?"
"That also depends," Unknown quipped in an annoyed tone that almost took Peabody off guard, "Are you going to use my name this time?"
This again? Peabody believed the answer would be so obvious. "Kama Pua'a."
The beagle did not need light to be aware of the eye-roll being directed at him.
"My real name, smartass."
A curt groan escaped Peabody. "Fine. Keanu Aolani Jameson."
Yes. Colorful name. Not that the fact elicited need for surprise on Peabody's part; it went ridiculously well with his compatriot's oddball nature. His eyes did not overlook the resultant loss of tension in...Jameson's body.
Peabody hemmed to distract himself from a sudden pang of guilt. Probably would have worked better had Jameson not chosen now to finally make his face visible. Or more specifically, his eyes.
With his deep ebony fur, it was no wonder he blended so well into the darkness. Even with glasses, Peabody struggled to differentiate the Scottish terrier's features from the surroundings. What helped? Two orange eyes too Sherman-esque in their childish focus and energy, the white pupils only accentuating the effect.
How could two people of two entirely different species share the same physical trait? And so beautifully at that?
Peabody shook his head as they finally reached the kitchen. Thankful for the reprieve, the beagle quickly got to work preparing the tea, Jameson taking a seat on the other side of the breakfast bar separating the kitchen from the living room.
For the entire time he worked, Peabody could feel those same eyes watching, studying him, not unlike the manner he himself would an experiment. The notion did not unsettle him to the extent he wished it would.
A tea bag splashed into scalding water with more force than necessary.
"You are a nuisance," he wearily griped in vexation.
To his credit (or discredit, depending on viewpoint), Jameson remained unfazed. Instead the terrier tilted his head. "Sure you don't want me ta take over? You're looking steamed about something."
First: that oaf did not possess the authority of making puns, even unintentional and (dare Peabody say it?) very good ones. Second: the reason for anger, Peabody figured, should have been apparent.
"Why insist on this charade? You are as guilty as I. As much blood lies on your hands as on mine," he finally faced Jameson, eyes heavy with plead breaking through the cold like sunlight peeking through waning storm clouds, "so why? Why keep approaching me as if you care?"
Jameson shrugged, eyes full of surprise at the question. "Because I still do. Nothing else to it."
They stared at other, genuine orange and uncomprehending green. At last, Peabody reluctantly turned away. The sunlight had retreated.
No more words passed as the tea was completed then served. A halfhearted smirk won control over Peabody when Jameson curled his lips in distaste at the bitterness.
When Peabody promptly and wordlessly pointed to the cabinet where he kept the sugar, Jameson smiled in gratitude and hopped off his stool to procure the sweet treasure. All the while, the smaller dog watched in silence, mind elsewhere in places no longer existent, people no longer here.
"Do you still remember Miss Richie?"
Jameson paused in his perusing to toss an interested and slightly touched glance over his shoulder. "Yeah. It's pretty hard to forget the lady who brought us together." His face grew pensive, sorrowful, as did his voice. "I miss her."
Peabody nodded in agreement. 'She was one of the few humans who saw us for who we truly are.'
Just like Sherman.
Sherman...
"Jameson," a strange vulnerability leaked into Peabody's voice, one the beagle could tell Jameson detected. Turning from the cabinet with packets of Splenda in hand, the terrier studied the other dog, expectant. "If Sherman were to wake up this instant and see you, what would you have said to him? What would you do?"
Silence.
Packets jangled in hand. "Want some tea? Plenty to go around"—At Peabody's incredulous stare, Jameson shrugged once more—"You asked, I answered."
Peabody shook his head, a faint chuckle bouncing against the walls of his throat. Simple answers and nothing more: classic Jameson. Classic Keanu. As the beagle downed his tea, Jameson sat back down beside him and did likewise after depositing his Splenda, the quietude comfortable for the first time in ages.
There came a point when both dogs ceased their drinking—and at the same time, no less—to gaze down at what little liquid remained, their reflections colored by the bottoms of their cups.
Deep blue for Peabody.
"I still hate you." The beagle did not have to look to see the knowing grin.
Deep red for Jameson.
"I know." The terrier did not have to glance to see the relieved smile.
"One of these days, I'm going to rid myself of you."
"I'm sure you will."
"Slowly and painfully. With a spork."
"True words from a true friend."
Yes, Peabody mused with content as he finally did away with the last of his tea.
Friends.
Dark! Peabody is very sexy. Just saying. And FYI, he kind of reminds me of Lackadaisy's Mordecai in this AU. Must be the eyes.