-Rehabilitating a Child Soldier-

Cloak

... It wasn't Dream...

For as much as Tommy thought it would be, or that he would be driven off the warming sand by a sharp kick to his side, that isn't what happened.

Instead, he could feel as his half conscious body was scooped up, lifting it out of the sand, and moving him away from the beach. Far enough away that he couldn't hear the water anymore... which was fairly far away from his camp, seeing as he would lay in his tent at night and wait for that sound to help him drift off to sleep...

He could also feel himself warming up as he was held... The other being's flesh breathing new heat into his own... Which was nice... 

It made him relax...

One of these days he figured he'd die of hypothermia after one of his morning swims... but today evidently wasn't that day.

It took him a moment for his numb body to regain a sense of consciousness, and another while before he managed to open his eyes. That task alone labored him far more than it used too... as if opening his eyes was now a chore...

But once he managed, he slowly began to grasp his surroundings.

He was in the shade... No... He was elevated above the ground, but in the mouth of a shallow cave. He couldn't hear any mobs, but that didn't mean that there wasn't any lurking around.

The next thing he processed was how he wasn't on the ground... he was in the palm of someone's hand, with a warm cloak pressed over him. It acted like a blanket, protecting him from the nipping wind, and completely reinforced agains freezing temperatures.

He let a breath escape his lips before groggily turning his head to look up at his demonic father. He was still exhausted... he would be until nightfall. His new routine didn't grant him the luxury of rest...

But his dad looked down at him with soft, milky eyes. Worried about his child's wellbeing.

The demon's ears quivered as he shivered in the cold, the frosty winds rapidly draining the heat from his body, especially without his cape...

But that didn't matter. All that mattered was that his son, the every so tiny child in his hands, was okay... Bad could die a thousand times over in the cold, wet plains, and he wouldn't regret a single one if it meant he could keep him safe... And keeping him safe meant keeping him warm...

"...mmm..." Tommy groaned, running his dry tongue over salty, cracked lips before swallowing hard from both the pain and dehydration that had worked its way up his throat, "...hey... dad..."

"Shhh..." Bad's face shattering with concern at the sight of his frail child, "Hush... rest. I'll get you some water..."

"...Fuck off...dad... I'm fine..." Tommy grumbles, too tired to actually be annoyed with his father's protective nature.

"Hey. Language." Bad sharply whispers back, pouring a small glass of water for the kid.

He ended up having to regulate Tommy's drinking so that he didn't just gulp down the whole glass... That wouldn't have ended well... and the last thing Tommy needs right now is to get sick and vomit up the little moisture he has left in his body.

The teen still managed to finish the drink in no time at all, though, with Bad stopping him from absolutely chugging it... Once he was done with that, though, his muscles relaxed a bit, allowing him to snuggle into the warm hand and the comforting cloak as his muscles released the tension he wasn't away that they were holding.

The salt in his cuts still stung, and the bruises on his body still ached...

...But he actually felt good...

...Like he was safe...

It didn't take long for him to start falling asleep for real... A restful slumber that he desperately needed after all his body had been through...

He could hear his dad's tail flicking against the floor... A sign of worry... but he didn't acknowledge it at all...

... He didn't know when he'd get his next opportunity...

He was going to take advantage of his demonic father's protection.

...He just needed sleep...

...He'd talk to Bad in a few hours...

...Please... Just a few minutes of sleep...