A/N: Okay, deep breath. Deep breathing to shake away the feeling of sadness that was brought on by my past chapter. Okay, okay and BACK TO THE HAPPY SONG!

This is a combined idea from crazyfangirl, Guest, cute girl, Elizabeth Smith, and Cartuneslover17.

Plot: Peabody gets used to the sounds of a child at night and deals with them accordingly.

Cute girl: I love that idea, and I had an idea similar to it so I may just combine the two. Maybe not adoption, but those two pay close attention to additional characters (Say: Source) should know where I am going with this :3

There was nothing more beautiful then the sound of a child's laughter. In retrospect, it was quite a scare to hear it in the middle of the night shortly after the child has learned to walk and Peabody knew this from experience. The last time he heard the toddler giggle in the middle of the night, it was followed up by several plopping sounds that created a random rhythm and ended with a popped rubber ball and a priceless vase shattered on the penthouse floor. As expected, the dog was furious with the little boy and was about to start yelling when he stopped and let the boy defend his case.

"It was an accident!" The child had argued, putting on his best puppy dog eyes, which instantly calmed the angered dog.

That calmed the dog down just enough that he was able to return the child to his bed without receiving an earful. The problem was keeping him in bed after this, so it was after that that Peabody began putting crib like bars onto the boy's big boy bed at night. This plan kept things from breaking at night, but it also opened a new can of worms. This is also what developed Peabody's OCD for shutting off all of the washers at night.

At the second night of having the bars up on the bed, Peabody had so stupidly showed Sherman an episode of 'Rocky and Bullwinkle' in which Bullwinkle is put into prison and not aloud to leave. This made the child so fearful of being locked up in prison that when he woke up in the middle of the night, he forgot that the bars on the bed were just crib bars and promptly wet the bed in fright. Needless to say, this taught Peabody that not only were the bars a bad idea, but the sound of a washing machine in the middle of the night was a bad omen as well.

This also taught him that letting Sherman own one of his red-bowties and yet still have white sheets and PJs was also a horrible idea. This misadventure lead to a gallon of bleach having to be bought and Sherman having to wear pink PJs for the rest of the week. Of course, the sounds didn't stop there and all of these sounds would lead to the worst sound a parent could hear.

Now, if the sounds of a child's laughter and the washing machine was not a bad enough omen, imagine the sounds of a child sobbing his small lungs out while also shrieking bloody murder at three in the morning. This terrified the young father as he flung himself out of bed in a mili-second and raced down the hall to his small son's room. A little, shivering lump in the center of the bed indicated that the little boy was still in the room and seemingly unharmed by the make-believe intruder that Peabody originally feared might be the reason of the boy's screams. With a relieved sigh, he walked over to the boy's race car bed and carefully sat down, attempting to approach the child without scaring him.

"Sherman?" He said gently, reaching over and placing a hand on the top of the lump.

He felt Sherman's soft head of curls as he patted it gently. The boy's face poked out of the blanket shield suddenly, and his teary eyes filled with relief at the sight of his adoptive father. He sprung out and hugged him tightly, suddenly clinging to the other like a lifeline as a fresh set of sobs started again. What ever the child was afraid of, it was obviously very scary. Or at least in the mind of a child it was, which meant it could be anything! Frowning, Mr. Peabody wrapped his arms around the child and began to stroke his hair.

"There, there, Sherman." He said gently. "Whats wrong?"

"H-had a bad dream!" The little boy squeaked, burying his teary face into the other's chest and whimpering. "Really scary!"

"Oh dear, was it the one about the gummy bears again?" Mr. Peabody asked, hoping it wasn't because he didn't want to order another round of therapy. "Because we've been over this Sherman. The red ones don't want to steal your toys."

Sherman giggled softly at the silly comment, having finally calmed down a little, and looked up at his adoptive father. Suddenly, and a tad curiously, the child reached a hand out and poked the edge of the older male's glasses. They slid further up the bridge of his nose and framed his confused eyes perfectly. The dog in turn, reached his own hand up and gently took the child's hand away.

"Sherman, what are you doing?" Peabody asked in a confused tone which he rarely used.

"Checking." Sherman replied innocently. "Making sure you're real."

"Now, Sherman. Why wouldn't I be real?" Peabody asked, gently setting the child on the bed in front of him and nudging his chin. "Was your dream about me not being real?"

Sherman shook his head and sniffled again, rubbing his little nose against his sleeve as he sat up a little and pulled his covers back over him. For protection reasons of course, and then shook his head again. He looked calm enough to explain, but suddenly his face twisted into one of pain and sorrow as he flung himself back at his father, crying out something in an unclear voice as he did so.

"Sherman? Whats wrong?" Peabody asked, attempting to pry the little boy off of him but then gave up.

"Don't send me back to the orphanage!" He cried out loudly, surprising the dog. "I know I'm a bad son but I'll try harder!"

Peabody sat there for a bit, very surprised by this and tried to contemplate what he had just been told. He tried to think of what to say, but found that he would need more information about the dream first. Gently prying at the child again, he set him on the bed and patted the side of his cheek to calm him down (Something he learned in a comic book once) and gently 'shh'ed him whenever he would whimper.

"What would make you thing I'd send you back?" He said gently. "What was your dream about?"

"I-I had a dream... That I broke the vase... and turned the wash pink again... And- and, you got mad at me... And that mean pink lady came and took me away and I was put in a jail and not allowed to leave or see you ever never again! It was really dark and scary and then the gummybears came and you gave them my toys!"

The dog frowned and petted his son's head gently as he sighed softly. He remembered that pink woman (whose name he couldn't remember for the life of him, which didn't really matter. It wasn't like he was ever going to see her again in the next three years or anything) and knew that she was against the adoption completely. She did not only scare Sherman, but Peabody as well, who did not want his son to be taken away. With a gentle smile, he moved his hand down to he could pick up the boy.

"Sherman, I would never send you back. Even if you did break the vase or turn the wash pink again. Or give away your toys to those God forsaken gummy-bears." Peabody said sweetly as he pulled the little boy back onto his lap and kissed his forehead. "Because your my son, and I love you very much."

"P-promise?" Sherman whimpered, whipping his eyes again. "Pinky promise?"

"Yes, Pinky-promise. Now why don't you get some sleep?" Peabody asked as he looped their fingers again and frowned as the child shook his head.

"Can't... Will you sing to me?" Sherman whimpered softly. "Something really nice?"

Peabody sighed, but knew that the child would not sleep without a song or a story. For that matter, he wouldn't be able to sleep either with the memory of his son's sobs still stuck in his ringing ears. With a gently sigh, he tried to think of the perfect song to sing to his little boy.

"Close your eyes, Have no fear. The monsters gone, he's on the run and your daddy's here, Beautiful, Beautiful, Beautiful Boy."