Hey, I figured out formatting! Hooray! And thank you for joining me for this sequ-Wait wait, don't go! You don't have to read the first story to start here. Below is a synopsis from the previous story to get you up-to-date, in case you want to start here for whatever reason (I won't judge). Your kind feedback has made this possible, and I thank you so much for it. Please feel free to leave any further comments, I really do appreciate them. Happy reading, please!
The story so far: After letting Sherman practice driving the WABAC as an early birthday present, he and Mr. Peabody crash land in the already near-condemned studio of artist, near-shut in, and cat Kimberly Rigby. Rigby joins them as their temporary roommate, with Peabody and her driving each other insane with various arguments, but eventually she manages to win over Sherman, who starts to question if he might also want a mother. Peabody and she also come to an understanding, finding a mutual love of art and similar backgrounds as having grown up "anomalies". This leads to several adventures through Paris, the O.K. Corral, ancient Kyoto, and ultimately the H.M.S. Beagle, featuring passenger Charles Darwin, during a hurricane. Unsure if how he'll faire riding the ship through the storm, and sure that the fame and money-shy Rigby genuinely cares not for his fortune but more for Sherman, Peabody asks Rigby to marry him so that she can take care of Sherman in the event of something happening to him. They get married by the ship's captain and all survive with minimal scratches, Sherman with a new mother who's getting used to her role, and Peabody with a wife that he's still getting to know a little bit better every day.
"If we're going to die here… Could you at least tell me… Who's Marie?" demanded Rigby.
"What?!" Peabody just nearly made it in time to dodge the blade from the Viking and zigzagged out of the way of another one's club. What had turned into a simple enough outdoor feast had quickly gone awry as two Vikings began to argue over a cut from a recent plundering, and the three had found themselves smack in the middle of it. Sherman had managed to get led to safety by his father and relatively new mother, but the two continued to hold back their own Viking adversaries.
"Marie! Marie Sklodowska!" Rigby held up a shield, finding it just barely kept the axe from cracking it in two and jamming straight into her skull.
"You went through my letters?!"
"Just be glad I didn't ask about the others!"
"…It's a young Marie Curie. Must we really go over this now?!" he grunted and used his own shield to strike the side of a Viking's helmet, which knocked the large man out cold. Peabody then hopped over this same man on the way into the WABAC, which Sherman helped both him and then finally Rigby in. Rigby managed to kept one last shot in, decking a female Viking with her shield before the door to the WABAC shut completely.
"Curie?!"
"Before she was married!" Peabody repeated, glaring at the Viking who now attempted to smash the window of WABAC with his club. "…Mostly…"
"Ugh…" Rigby rolled her eyes and looked back to Sherman. "Still have all of your fingers and toes?"
Sherman looked down for a moment, muttered to himself, and then shot his head up and nodded, "Yup! I had to think about the toes."
"Good. It's a successful trip then… Next time I suggest we get lunch, we're going to listen to me and just go to the Olive Bowl, all right?" Rigby slumped down in her seat and grumbled, rubbing the shoulder that had held the heavy shield moments before.
"So… You dated Marie Curie, Mr. Peabody?" Sherman tilted his head and sneered a bit at the thought of his father just doing this.
"We just went out for sodas a few times… Tell me you've heard of carbon dating, Sherman?" the dog chuckled as the WABAC moved through a blue wormhole, ages away from the screaming, spitting, and shouting Vikings.
"Don't forget we've got that meeting at twelve," Rigby nudged the dog, who pushed up his glasses and nodded.
"More sappy wedding stuff?"
Rigby turned in her seat and grinned, "You'll like this! It's for the cake!"
"But… I thought you couldn't taste sweet stuff…"
"Which is why I'm gonna need a taste tester. Got any ideas?" the cat winked, and Peabody himself smiled a bit upon hearing Sherman's excited gasp.
"I won't fail you," said the boy with all seriousness.
"So… You want a regular cake… And then… Crab cakes…" the caterer's face contorted as she and Peabody spoke business in the white café chair, scores catalogs laid out before him. Sherman and Rigby, meanwhile, stood in front of the numerous glass display cases, Sherman taking another small bite of cake as they walked.
"So how's the chocolate?" Rigby asked, and Sherman wildly nodded his head, turning back to his father and giving a thumb's up to the chocolate ganache with the buttercream frosting.
The caterer rubbed one of her arms and bit her lower lip, "I… Don't want to be rude, but…."
"Ohoho… I understand. The whole "dogs and chocolate" business. I assure you I'm fine with it. I spent an entire summer in Barbados making myself immune to food allergies and most major poisons! It was a bit of a strange vacation. I tried some viper venom and awoke on the top of a palm tree wearing a wizard's outfit and talking to a coconut that someone had drawn a face on. I do wonder what happened to Wilson…"
"Yeah, catnip does that to me, too. I mean this one time… I…" Rigby snorted offhandedly, and then added to Peabody nervously. "N-Not that that happens anymore…"
"Chocolate it is, then!" Peabody clapped his hands together and hopped off the chair. "And for the crab cake, remember no scallions. Absolutely none."
"Come on, bridezilla," Rigby led the dog out while the caterer only shook her head, bemused by the whole ordeal—And wondering how to find as much crab as she would need.
"Now, Sherman, we'll have to fit you for your suit—" Peabody started as he hopped onto his scooter, but was cut off by the boy's groan.
"Hey, I have to dress up too," Rigby reached over and tussled his hair. "It's just for a day. Plus you'll look like a secret agent in one!"
"You really think so? Hey, do I get a communicator watch?!" Sherman asked.
"You have a smart phone, why would you need—Nevermind. You're going to be entrusted with something even bigger, Sherman!" Peabody exclaimed, taking off and merging onto the road.
"…A ring?" surprise mixed with a bit of disappointment as Sherman looked in at the small box. Peabody had quickly spirited his son into the boy's bedroom, much to Rigby's confusion.
"Well, as the best man you're in charge of that!" Peabody explained proudly, his hands behind his back and his chest puffed out a bit as he looked down at the pink jewel in the center. "Pink sapphire. Incredibly rare. I found it myself on one of my adventures… In my younger years, of course."
"Best man? But… I'm just a boy…"
"You're still the best man I know, Sherman," the dog replied, took a seat on Sherman's bed, and motioned for the boy to do the same. "Now you're sure you're perfectly all right with this?"
Sherman took a seat next to his father, the opened box still in his hands, "Well, you're both married anyhow…"
"It's nothing on paper yet, though. And that was under duress."
"Well, yeah. You seem really happy around her and all. Even when you guys argue you still end up getting along in the end…."
"I'm glad. Thank you."
"And you're okay with it, Mr. Peabody?"
"Sherman, of course! Now… Take good care of that. You're older now, so I'm trusting you with this."
"You can count on me, Mr. Peabody!" Sherman exclaimed, setting it on his nightstand.
"I'm terrified," realized the dog as he stared at himself in the mirror, arms stretched out at either side as the tailor circled him with a measuring tape, noting where to make adjustments on the suit jacket.
"What was that?" asked the tailor, raising his head.
"I'd like this done by five," Peabody cleared his throat and adjusted the red tie.
"For you?! Of course!" the tailor laughed, leaving Peabody alone on top of the stool he'd taken a step onto. By himself, Peabody loosened the collar of the shirt and brushed back some of the fur atop his head while looking in the mirror at himself.
He didn't know how much longer he'd be able to conceal the panic.
Rigby scratched behind her ear as she walked down in a paint-splattered red sweater to grab a newspaper from the corner stand, counting her change along the way. She rolled her eyes at the presence of a familiar being following after her—A man with a camera.
"Kim! Hey! Kim! Over here!" she heard him call out to her as she made her walk down to the corner.
"Hey, Jerry," Rigby calmly picked up a newspaper, not minding the group of magazines with her image on them to the right of her.
"Heya, Rig," the gruff New Yorker said through a bite of a bagel. The tattooed, stout man shouted at the paparazzi, "HEY! Get outta here before my nephew's down here to break another one of youse guys' kneecaps!"
"Ricky? How is he?" asked Rigby as she counted her change.
"Good. Just got another scouting badge, an' his class is goin' to the zoo next week for a field trip!" exclaimed Jerry. "Hey, you want onna these magazines?"
"…Why not?" she sighed, picking up the magazine with a picture of her and Peabody on a corner of the front. It'd been a simple day at the park—But magazine fodder.
"How're you holdin' up with that?"
"It's unique…" she admitted, taking it under her arm and glaring once more at the man with the camera.
"I was serious about the kneecaps!" barked Jerry to the cameraman, who scuttled away.
"Are you okay?"
"Yes. Why?" Peabody lifted up his welder's mask and looked about, suddenly spooked out of his work.
"…That sheet's a puddle…" Rigby replied, looking up from her painting and wiping her face, leaving a smear of yellow and red across her black and white fur.
Peabody looked down and jumped back—Sure enough, there was a melted puddle of metal on the floor where had once been part of a body for a new personal aircraft carrier.
"You're nervous!" she laughed in disbelief as she tossed aside her brush and walked over to him.
"What? Me? Nervous?" he chuckled and leaned back as she leaned in. "I… I assure you're I'm perfectly fine."
"…Me too…" Rigby replied after a thoughtful pause. She placed a paw on either side of his face and grinned and reassuringly as she could, forgetting the smears of paint left on his white fur. "After two weeks all of this stress will be over. And then we can get back to yelling at each other for doing things like scratching the furniture and chewing the newspaper."
"I was eating fish and chips and it was an accident, for the last—" she pressed her muzzle to his, as she often did to end these arguments. As she pulled away from him, there was paint smearing the front of his muzzle, as well.
"Mr. Peabody, we've got company!" came Sherman's voice from the upstairs intercom.
"My three o' clock! I forgot!" Peabody threw aside his welder's mask, apron, and gloves, ignoring Rigby's pleas to him as he rushed up to the elevator.
Peabody rushed into his living room, having adjusted his tie in the elevator, and walked out with his usual air of calmness—Not understanding the raised eyebrows the group of people, dressed formally in suits, gave him.
"Ladies and gentle—Yes, Sherman? What is it?" Peabody cleared his throat as he watched his son motioning wildly behind the businesspeople. He watched as the boy kept pointing to his own face, and Peabody furrowed his brow, brought a paw up to one of his cheeks, and then looked down at the paint that was left.
"Oh! You'll… Have to excuse me… I was repainting Sherman's wagon…" Peabody chuckled, wiping this paint on one of his sides and only spreading it further.
"With your face?" asked a stout man with thick glasses.
"I really wanted to get close details," Peabody replied with a slight, hopeful wag of the tail. "Now you said this was an important meeting?"
"Yes," a woman stepped forward and handed him a white envelope. "Mr. Peabody, you've been served."
"We'll see ourselves out," said a tall bald man, and the three seemed to walk out as a collective, leaving a stunned Peabody to open the letter and read it over himself.
