"Mr. Peabody, are you sure you're capable of handling all the challenges and responsibilities of a human child?", asked the judge, looking through the adoption forms.

"With all due respect," nervously chuckled Mr. Peabody, "how hard could it be?"

The judge looked at Mr. Peabody, and lowered his glasses in a "Really?" gesture.

Thirteen years later, Mr. Peabody realized he had greatly underestimated the challenges of parenthood. One mistake was choosing to live in a penthouse high above New York City. The view of the city was breathtaking, but the space was quite small. And little boys needed lots of running room. And so, he decided to invent a time machine. Behind a hidden passcode protected door laid a red, futuristic orb that could travel trough the fabric of space and time (and comfortably seat four): the WABAC machine. It was Sherman's birthday present, when he was five. He had hoped it would give his son a chance to learn…and give the dog and his boy a chance to bond.

Sherman became fascinated in history, and was taking after his father quite nicely. To the spectacular grades, the sharp wit, Mr. Peabody had even heard him make a groan-worthy pun about the hydrogen atom. But now Sherman had school to worry about. Susan B. Anthony Private High was waiting, just a day away.

"Mr. Peabody?"

Sherman asked around a mouthful of cereal. Peabody's train of thought went off the rails and over the bridge.

"Yes, Sherman?"

"Is the WABAC fixed yet?"

Just a few days before, they had visited 1178, to the site of the Tower of Piza. The two were climbing to the second level when Sherman knocked over a bucket of water, splashing on the ground and causing the ground to collapse from the weight. The Italians were not pleased. At all.

"Oh, don't worry about that, Sherman. It's fine now."

"Can we go then?"

Sherman asked for trips in the WABAC as birthday and Christmas presents. Mr. Peabody tried his best to set aside time for his son alongside business matters. He was really busy today...but it was his last day of summer. He'd call in sick.

"I...suppose there's no harm. Be ready in ten minutes, Sherman." Mr. Peabody jumped out of his chair and walked towards the his room.

Several phone calls later, and Mr. Peabody was ready.

"Where are we going this time, Mr. Peabody?"

"Not where, Sherman, when. December 25th, 1776, a desperate time for the Continental Army."

Before they knew it, they were traveling through time, to a cloudy, snowy base camp in Pennsylvania, just off to the side of the Delaware River. Makeshift hospitals in tents were crowded to the maximum. Men were groaning and bleeding. Nurses were going from tent to tent, trying to fix the patients. Of the thousands of men there, less than a thousand were fit for battle. Many were starving and sick. Two soldiers were leaning against the tent, having a conversation.

"Anything to spare?", asked one to the other, trying to beat out drops of water from his flask.

"A case of hypothermia sound good to you?"

Sherman and Mr. Peabody walked around the sight, to one of the main, larger tents. A young man was standing outside of it, looking frantic and nervous.

"Ah, Lieutenant Colonel Hamilton."

"Mr. Peabody!"

"You seem tense. What seems to be the problem?"

"It's General Washington, sir. He's depressed and refused all hopes of a peaceful surrender. He's mad!"

"I see."

The two walked inside to see General Washington, moping at his desk, with his papers everywhere.

"It is impossible! We're doomed!"

"General Washington, what are you referring to?"

"It's the British! They've slaughtered my men and destroyed my infantries! All that's left is for the ice to melt and for them to attack us into surrender."

"Sir, the British are so confident of their victory they are feasting and drinking for Christmas. Why don't you cross the river and hit them with a surprise attack?"

"Hm...maybe... Yes! It is brilliant! Victory will be ours!" He ran outside, calling his soldiers to meet, leaving the two inside the tent.

"Mr. Peabody?"

"Yes, Sherman?"

"I'm confused. General Washington attacked the British by surprise anyway. How do our trips through time even work?"

"I'm afraid even I am not sure, Sherman. All I know is I never break time by spoiling too much. I just...push it forward a little."

The two started walking back towards the WABAC.

"You could say, Sherman, that the British's party went out with a bang."

Sherman laughed, then paused for a moment. "I don't get it."

Mr. Peabody smiled. It had become a running joke after Sherman started groaning at the puns.

After returning to the present, Mr. Peabody cooked Sherman's favorite dish(or, one of them anyway) and they both enjoyed it. After eating, Sherman began towards his room.

"Get some rest, Sherman. Your first day of high school is only hours away."

"Goodnight, Mr. Peabody. Love ya."

Mr. Peabody had a lump in his throat. In all these years, he still could not bring himself to say the words he so desperately wished he could. And it reminded him that in four short years, Sherman would be…gone. The thought of his beautiful boy being away from him made him choke up inside.

"I have a deep regard for you as well, Sherman."

Tomorrow, for sure, he'd say it. Just like he promised himself yesterday.

"Now, make sure you arrive on time," said Mr. Peabody, as he was finishing up Sherman's lunch. He placed the baby carrots in a ziplock bag, then thrown in a stereotypical red apple for the teacher, and began making the tuna sandwich. He noticed Sherman pacing the floor, nervously. Mr. Peabody was nervous too, though he hid it.

"Okay, Mr. Peabody," said Sherman, looking through the glass window into Central Park. The sun was rising over the city that never slept. He was wearing the school uniform, a dark blue vest over his plain white shirt, with the school logo pinned on the right of the chest. He yawned, stretched, adjusted his glasses. He was a little nervous, to say the least. He was never really popular in any of his schools, but now he was about to enter high school, basically a popularity contest with report cards. Whatever, he thought. He'd just get the grades and get out ASAP. He remembered the scooter rides they would have to the old schools, where they chatted and Mr. Peabody would give him advice and reminders about anything. They discussed desk organization and pencil thickness and field trips. He missed those days.

"Remember to take a look at the clubs when you get a chance, Sherman." He finished the sandwich with light mayonnaise, and put it in a container.

"I will, Mr. Peabody."

"And don't get lost in the halls," said Mr. Peabody, as he wrapped the lunch in a brown paper bag and put it on the counter. "Here's your lunch."

There was a pause here, as both thought about what to do before they said goodbye and separated. Both drew a blank.

"Love ya, Mr. Peabody."

It was awkwardly squeezed into the conversation, just anything to fill the gap of silence. Right now, just like he promised...

"I...have a deep regard for you as well, Sherman."

The silence returned, expanded, took over the space.

"Alright, Mr. Peabody. Bye!" Sherman grabbed his lunch and ran to the elevator.

As soon as the elevator doors closed, Mr. Peabody growled to himself. God, it was three words! They're not even long ones! Why? Why couldn't he say it to his own son? He did love him...did he? Mr. Peabody smacked himself. Of course he did. He'd prove it to himself. He'd say it, right after school. He promised himself. Again.

Maybe he did get a little lost. Sherman frantically scrambled through the halls, searching for it, where was it?! "Oh, here it is!", he thought. Sherman had had no time to "check the clubs", as Mr. Peabody reminded him. Screw it, he'd do it later. Room 212. As he walked in, he heard a loud bell reverb across the school. "Well, at least I'm not tardy!" He paused to look around the classroom. It looked normal enough, with twenty or so students and a teacher looking well into her forties. There was only one seat left, next to…well (to be brutally honest with himself), a pretty fantastic looking blonde girl, wearing the uniform blue shirt with a white skirt, lighter blue socks that went to her knees and a black hairband. He considered himself lucky and took the seat.

"Cutting it close, Mr...", asked the teacher.

"Sherman, please, call me Sherman."

She said nothing.

"Welcome to American History." The teacher sounded cold, distant, and emotionless. "This class is required to achieve your diploma and further a successful life and career.

"Given this is our first day, let's start simple. Who here knows about the Declaration of Independence?"

About half of the class raised their hands.

"When was it signed?"

Sherman, along with three or four others, raised their hands. This was easy.

"Ms. Peterson, or do you prefer Penelope?", asked the teacher with a slight glare at Sherman.

"July 4, 1776. And Penny's fine, m'am."

Sherman was shocked to hear the voice come next to him. And that she was wrong.

"Anything to add, Sherman?"

"Actually, while the wording of the Declaration was approved on July 4, the document wasn't signed until August 2nd. In fact, on July 4, King George III wrote in his diary that 'nothing important happened today'."

"Wow," said the impressed teacher, "someone knows their history. Wouldn't you say, Penny?"

Penny Peterson, as Sherman now knew her, was red in the face, embarrassed and angry. She held a pencil in her hands and loudly snapped it like a twig.

Sherman gulped.

Sherman had struggled his way through Algebra and made it to lunchtime. He was sitting alone, as he preferred, biting into his food. He looked around the cafeteria. Faded yellow walls surrounded the students, sitting at pale green tables that were more likely to be at a playground than a high school. Sherman was sitting in the corner closest to the exit, just in case, a strategy that got him out of trouble on more then one occasion.

"So," said Penny, inches from his ear, making him jump and turn around to face her, "whatcha got there, Sherman?" Sherman gulped, forgetting that he had been eating, resulting in a coughing fit.

"Uh, carrots, an apple, and a tuna sandwich."

"Huh, I was expecting something more...traditional."

Huh? It wasn't like he was eating sushi or crap like that.

"Traditional? Like what?"

"Oh, you know...kibbles, bits..."

He heard laughter from Penny's friends (he thought he might have heard the names "Jill" and "Abby", but he couldn't be sure). Penny turned on a heel and smirked while making a slashing motion across her throat. "Cut it, guys, I'm not done!"

Sherman let out a joyless laugh.

"Hahahaha..."

Penny raised an eyebrow.

"What's so funny?"

"Kibbles and bits...that was funny...it was. The first eighty-six times."

"E-eighty six?" Her air of confidence was starting to waver.

"Yeah, I keep count, it's a little tic of mine."

"Tic, huh? You should get that removed." She leaned in closer, her confidence back in rare form. "I hear it's hereditary."

Sherman clenched his fist. Unclenched. Breathed. "Clever, aren't you?", he nearly growled.

"I wouldn't know, pup."

"I have a name, you know."

"What, Sparky? Rover? Lassie, maybe?"

"Sherman, Penelope." Venom dripped off.

"At least mine was given to me by a human, dog-boy."

Sherman stood up, finally pissed off.

"I am human!"

"Oh, yeah?"

She grabbed the sandwich out of his hands and threw it across the room. Silence overtook the cafeteria.

"Prove it."

He stood there, asking the unspoken question, "How?"

"Stupid dog. You know how to fetch, don't you?" Chuckles rang out across the lunch room. "Fetch, boy! Go on!" Laughter now surrounded Sherman, louder, louder, louder-

Penny shoved him onto the dirty linoleum floor.

"Your master said fetch!" She angrily hissed in his ear, then backed away to chat with her friends. "Ugh, you're useless."

Sherman had had enough of this. Far too much of this. He put up with this shit in elementary and middle, but high school? Hell no! He stalked towards her, but failing to notice a puddle of milk, he slipped, sending him landing headfirst. His glasses flew across the room. The laughter wouldn't stop, it wouldn't stop, why wouldn't it stop, make it stop!

"Oh, you wanna be funny now? Let's try a different command," she said, picking him up off the floor and placing him in a chokehold. "Beg!"

His dignity in tatters, he desperately tried to make a sound. God, how he tried, but he couldn't get the air. It came out as a sputtering wheeze. She slammed his bleeding, aching, swelling head against the table.

"Beg!"

Things were blurry, even blurrier without his glasses. He was seeing spots. In a desperate attempt to break free, he did the only thing he could.

That's the last thing he remembered.

He came to in a small puddle of blood. The janitor was mopping it up, but he stopped to help Sherman get back on his feet.

"Y'all right there, kid?"

"Fine," said Sherman, as he started to stumble out.

"Hey, you forgot these!"

Sherman walked back to get his badly bent glasses. He tried to put them on, to have one side be suspended mid-air.

"...Thanks."

"They wantcha in the Principal's Office, by the way."

It figures the most polite person in the school was the janitor.

Sherman walked through the halls, looking for the office. He could barely find his classroom in time, now they expected him to find an office? This whole day was turning out pretty rotten. He searched for the office. Eventually, he found an oak door to the office of Principal Purdy, as it read on the door.

"Real intimidating, I bet."

He opened the door.

"Don't worry, I'll see he's met with. Just sit right there and-"

The principal turned from Penny to see...

"Ah, Mr. Peabody."

"Sherman, please, it's less confusing."

"Very well, Sherman. Come with me, we need photos of your injuries for...insurance purposes."

Penny had an evil smile plastered on her face. Sherman glared back.

"I understand."

Principal Purdy nervously wrung his hands. He was staring down two of the most influential families in New York City. He tried not to faint.

"Mr. Peabody, Mrs. and Mr. Peterson, thank you for your time. There was an altercation between these two in the lunchroom."

As he said "these two", he gestured to an indifferent Penny and an annoyed Sherman.

"Here are pictures for insurance filing."

Purdy passed two folders to the families, one showed Penny on the verge of fake tears, proudly displaying a bite-mark, the other showing Sherman's bruised, bloody head.

"Oh my," said Mr. Peabody.

"Hm," said Paul.

"Before we move on, I thought we should give the children a chance to explain themselves."

"Excuse me, Mr. Purdy, but why don't you simply pull a witness from the lunchroom? There must be dozens," asked Mr. Peabody.

"If you'd like, Mr. Peabody, I could, but I prefer to trust the students. Honesty is a key principle here."

Penny went first.

"Sherman showed me up during class. I told him it was rude and he started walking towards me, like he was gonna hurt me! He slipped and fell on his head and I tried to help him up, and he bit me!"

Paul looked over to Mr. Peabody, and made a violent slashing motion across his throat. Mr. Peabody gulped.

Next went Sherman.

"She was asked a question. She gave the wrong answer. I gave the right one. She called Mr. Peabody a dog."

"That's it? She's right, Sherman," said Purdy.

"No, not like that. You don't understand."

"Why don't I?"

"It's personal."

Purdy just glanced at Sherman, then moved on.

"Right then. Paul, Patty, Penny, Sherman, you all may leave."

Paul repeated his action, then left with Patty. Penny and Sherman (seperately, of course) then returned to class.

"Mr. Peabody. Due to your, ahem, special circumstances, I called Child Services as legally required."

"I see."

In walked Ms. Grunion, a plump lady who always seemed to be angry over something or another.

"He bit her, Mr. Peabody, for no good reason. I believe this incident will have to raise further questions about your parenting."

"You'll do good to remember that I won the right to adopt Sherman in a court of law," said Mr. Peabody, trying to keep his cool.

"And I can take him away," replied Ms. Grunion. "And I will be inspecting your home very thoroughly. Clear?"

With this last word, she huffed onto his glasses. His fingers acted as windshield wipers, removing the fog.

"Crystal."

The walk home was long, as he wanted it to be. Mr. Peabody had always told him about the back alley he found him in, but, years later, Mr. Peabody couldn't remember where it was. Sherman looked down every dark alleyway, seeing if anything struck a chord. Nothing did, of course. He started to think of what Mr. Peabody was going to do to him when he got home. Maybe, if he was good the rest of the day, he could get away with just a lecture. He didn't need that at the moment. He was busy.

God, how he hated Penny. How could someone like her trip him up on his first day? He had always been shunned by his peers, but he wasn't even allowed one goddamn day to adjust?! He despised her. He wished she dropped dead. Hell, he had fantasies about doing it himself, but he knew he would never do it. Because somewhere, there was a part of Sherman that made up excuses for Penny's actions, that it was a misunderstanding, that she really was nice at heart. He didn't listen to it though.

"Why'd you lie, then?"

Thought the irrational part of him. Sherman was just confused.

"Why didn't you say, 'the bitch slammed me against a table and held me in a chokehold', and watch her cry all the way to detention?"

Sherman reasoned that, for once, it had a point.

"You don't hate her, do you?"

Sherman stopped to think over what that could mean. He ran all the way home.

Sherman laid his spare glasses down on the table, and layed on top of the covers of his bed. He had tried to keep distracted for a few hours, but he was giving up. Mr. Peabody had not said a word. And neither did Sherman.

"Mind if I come in?", said Mr. Peabody, breaking the silence.

"Not really."

Mr. Peabody sat on the foot of the bed.

"Be honest, why did you do it, Sherman?"

"D-do we have to do this right now?"

"Yes, we do."

"What if I don't know what to tell you?"

"Then you tell me the truth."

"What if I don't know what the truth is?"

And, as soon as it came, the flurry of conversation ended. Mr. Peabody stood up and walked to the door.

"In that case, you tell me when you do. Get some rest."

And with the slam of the door, for the second time that day, everything faded to black.

A/N: How was it? Better than it was in the film, I hope? If you enjoyed, or didn't, feedback is always welcomed!