I had to fix some minor formatting issues. Apologies for that. Also, another stretch of a title.

"Mornin', Mr. Peabody!" Sherman exclaimed happily as he bounded out of his room the following morning after Peabody's outing with Rigby. "…Everything all right?" the boy's tone quieted as he saw Peabody, a concerned, silent look on his face, puttering around the kitchen.

"Hrm? Oh, yes," the dog lied through a smile, looking up from his cutting board and chopped vegetables briefly.

"How'd it go last night?" the boy's tone dropped to a whisper, and Peabody did his best not to outwardly shudder.

"Urm… It was… Eye-opening. Are you all ready for school, Sherman?"

"Just about!" the boy chirped, taking a bite of the cereal from the bowl that had been poured for him. He slowly turned, feeling the presence upon him, and then noted his father's one paw laid gently on his shoulder. "…Are you sure you're okay?"

"Certainly. Just remembering that I'm grateful we know one another," Peabody answered, quietly slinking off to find his helmet. He ran into the cat in the hallway, both exchanged flinches, and then headed off their opposite ways, her eyes down to the ground and bathrobe practically making her vanish in its bulk. She was grateful for this; vanishing was just what she wanted, then.

"So she's gonna be your mom?" Penny raised her eyebrows as she sat across from Sherman at lunch. "I guess that'll make my mom feel less alone when our dads start talking about golf. But haven't they known each other for only a couple of weeks?"

"Mr. Peabody told me he wanted to adopt me the second he saw me. If you can pick out your son that quick, why can't you pick out your wife?"

"I… Don't know if it works that way, but when you put it that way I guess that makes sense…" Penny thought for a moment. "You're sure that it went well?"

"Yeah, he's been acting all nervous around her, and she's been the same way."

"So like how Jimmy gets around Savannah, or Chris when he talks with me?"

"Yeah, exactly! I-Wait, what?!" Sherman yelped, choking on his sandwich for a moment.

Penny chuckled, "Just kidding. Boy you're touchy."

"NOT funny, Penny!"

"Oh yeah it was! You should've totally seen your face!"

"Come over after school and I'll show you."

"Can't; we're having family game night. I can make it over tomorrow, we don't have school then anything."

"Great! You'll definitely see it then!"

Rigby jumped as she heard the door to the studio open, and pretended not to notice by focusing on dropping lines of paint on her large canvas.

"I was wondering if you wouldn't mind watching Sherman this evening? The regular babysitter got grounded for sneaking out after curfew…" Peabody stood in front of the canvas, his arms behind his back. "I'll only be gone for an hour or two. I have an interview with a news station this evening about a new book I've written."

"Sure," was the only word that came from her as she continued her work, splattering the paint liberally. It was the first time he'd really seen her work with red, he couldn't help but notice.

"…I'm sorry for any miscommunication. The other night. That was presumptuous of me."

"It's fine…" she muttered, and made no other move to do away with the silence between them. The genius turned from the artist, looking over briefly to her from his shoulder once more, and then back to his scooter—It'd be a long drive to the news station.

"It's okay to put the microphone here?" asked the stagehand as she attempted to clip the small microphone to Peabody's bow tie.

"Perfectly fine. Thank you, Angela," Peabody exchanged a smile with the young woman, sipped his coffee, and sat back in his chair. He nodded towards the three hosts and slightly raised his coffee to the three, who were all done up in what he sure was a pound of hairspray and caked makeup. The three chattered amongst themselves, reviewing their notes with one another.

It was the one in the middle, Linda, who finally acknowledged Peabody, "I can't tell you what a pleasure it is to finally get you on our show!" she said to him, leaning forward and grinning.

"Well, my schedule has been a bit busy lately," the lone man amongst the anchors, Ted, grimed as Peabody said this, nearly stifling a chuckle.

"Well don't you worry, we'll make sure you're relaxed and have a great time here!" exclaimed Linda… A bit too cheerfully.

Gina, who sat farthest from him around the round table, adjusted her papers and cleared her throat, "Three… Two… And welcome back to the Evening World! We're here with Renaissance dog Mr. Peabody, who famously took a bite out of time last year!"

Peabody laughed politely, although this was only a cover for the depressing reminder that this "witty" pun he'd already seen and heard a thousand times would follow him to the grave, "Thank you so much, Gina."

"Before the show, you were talking about your busy life…" Ted shuffled the papers on the desk before him. "Now we realize you've published a new book—"

"Yes, all about the theory of time—"

"And that's terrific! It's a wonder how you've found so much time for so much else lately," Ted grinned, his teeth much too white and straight in his skull. "Rumor has it you've been seen around town with a lucky lady, lately."

Peabody forced himself not to sigh; he was hardly shocked that this would take precedence over a book explaining the theory of time travel, some cheap fodder for a magazine… But it didn't quell the disgust he felt.

"Our sources were telling us it's an underground artist, Kim Rigby," Linda leaned in more, as if finally taking an interest in a subject.

"She is indeed a friend of mine..." said Peabody cautiously, sipping from his coffee mug.

"Is it true you met by crashing into her home?" laughed Gina.

"You have to admit that you two make a little bit of an odd couple," Ted added. "But you have a little bit of a history with unconventional families. How's your son taking this?"

Peabody felt his annoyance rising, pushed up his glasses, and set the coffee down on the black glass table as gently as he could muster, "I have a strict policy of not bringing him up in these things. I'm not going to waiver on that after nearly a decade."

"I think it's really a great statement you're making with this," Gina chimed in. Peabody barely heard this, as he had heard it already, so many times before, and he had since pulled out his phone.

"One can only imagine what's in next for such a unique family!" Linda exclaimed.

"Can I ask what you're doing, Mr. Peabody?" but Gina was only greeted with a slightly raised paw and a mutter.

"Just working on a business transaction," murmured the dog, not looking up from his phone all the while. "Ah. There we go! It'd appear as though I'd just bought this station. How delightful, I've always meant to get more into working with television. I just don't think there's enough in the way of educational programming anymore. I think it'd be safe to say we could go to a commercial, now?"

"Is... Is he serious?" Linda's voice fell, losing all of its fake cheer, and she turned to the direct off stage. "Larry...?"

The stunned directer only nodded, his face a dull, sick shade of white.

The three anchors blinked, laughed nervously, and looked about for help. Ted was finally the one who cued the commercial, immediately getting up from his seat and storming off.

"I'm not working for a fleabag," muttered the news anchor. "Larry! I'm not working for a someone who uses chew toys! You're down an anchor!"

"Ladies. I wish you a good day. I'm afraid I can't stay any longer—I have a son to tuck in to bed. I hope you'll join me for a meeting we're going to have on Tuesday. I think after this interview we're going to have to review a few policies."

With a self-satisfied smile, the dog wandered off the set, phone in one paw while waving the other to the two remaining anchors.

"You bought a TV station… Just like… That…" Rigby was sipping from a once-full bottle at the bar as the elevators to the door opened and Peabody walked into his home, a small smile still on his face.

"You saw that? I thought you didn't watch television."

"I'm not that stuck up. I turn it on every now and again… That was... Amazing."

"Thank you… Now that you're out here, am I allowed to make a formal apology?"

"I... I just... What I've got to say is-"

"Mr. Peabody?" came the weak, tired voice of Sherman from his bedroom. The dog sighed and quietly entered the room, allowing the lights to remain dimmed.

"I'm here, Sherman. Another bad dream?"

The boy only stirred underneath his sheets a bit, not quite nodding.

"All right then. Don't worry, I'll stay here until you're asleep."

"…You promise?"

"You know I always keep my word," Peabody looked over and noted the shadow in the doorway, which was given away by a swishing tail. Rigby cringed upon being caught, but Peabody nodded, signaling for her to also enter the room.

"I… Just figured if there was anything bad in here, I'd be able to see it. I can see in the dark… And all…" she cleared her throat, and took a seat at the edge of the bed. "…I'm a night owl, anyway."

Sherman's worry seemingly vanished away from his face, and he slid down into his bed, shutting his eyes, "Mr. Peabody… Penny's coming tomorrow. That's okay? Right?"

"Of course."

"I figured the four of us could all go somewhere in the WABAC," the boy turned over in bed and yawned.

"Yeah… That'd be fun," Rigby rubbed one of her arms, and stood after hearing the telltale snoring of the boy.

"…Thank you, Miss Rigby."

"No problem, Hector," she said, and left. Peabody, meanwhile, stretched and decided to curl up with his boy in the bed.

It was about three when Sherman's kicking around in bed finally got to the dog—After one too many hits to the head from flailing limbs, he trudged back towards his room, but not before passing his library. Overcome with curiosity of phrases that had stuck to his thoughts since the date the previous night before, he wandered into the library, sitting down in a leather rolling chair and switching on his computer.

"There's more than one way to travel into the past…" he reminded himself, yawning and clicking open a link to an article.

Rigby hadn't been joking about the press coverage, he saw after a few kick read-throughs—What had been largely forgotten it seemed, back then, had sent media flocking from all around the world. He's been but a pup himself, so there was no wonder that he'd missed hearing about it.

One picture Peabody focused on in particular was a blonde woman, camera in one hand, clutching onto a smaller, fuzzier version of the cat he'd come to know, wrapped up in a blue blanket as she stormed out of an orphanage.

"You saw a bit of yourself in here, didn't you?" Peabody wondered aloud as he took in the photograph, recognizing the emotions that the human woman must have felt in that moment.