"I'm sorry."

It's been a week since their fight and honestly the last thing Dick expected was to come home to Jason sitting there calmly in his apartment, but there he is anyway.

(After what Dick had said, why the hell would he want to come back? Especially to say that.)

There are dark smudges under his eyes and his hair is disheveled, and honestly this is the most tired and worn out he'd ever seen Jason. He wasn't even that bad when Dick first met him, and anyone could have been able to tell how stressed and angry he'd been. But right now… he didn't seem to be either of those things. Just… sad.

"Jesus, you look like shit." Dick wasn't really one to dance around a subject.

Jason just chucked darkly. "You're not exactly model material at the moment either."

He was right. The dark bruises on his face had faded to a sickly yellow, and if he was being honest Dick hadn't been sleeping well either, and he hadn't been in the mood to go steal something so he was out of money for food. Thin, bruised, and exhausted didn't create the best look.

It didn't help that he wasn't used to feeling guilty, because he usually did whatever he wanted; whatever felt right. Sometimes it was stealing an expensive bracelet from the rich woman who shut down the homeless shelter because it was 'ugly', Sometimes it was giving his rent money to the struggling single father across the hall who was taking care of four kids all by himself. He didn't regret things because he never did anything he didn't want to do.

But he did, this time.

Even if the things he'd said were true, even if it was likely that Jason didn't think of him as anything other than a fuck buddy, he'd said those things in fear. In terror, because he knew Jason was getting far too close. Because Dick was caring about him, and every time that happened he ended up bleeding in the corner. So he'd lashed out first, spilled the first blood in mocking tones and anger, not even given Jason a chance to understand. It wasn't his fault.

Jason should hate him. He had every right to.

"Listen," Jason sighed, eyes wandering away from Dick as he spoke. "...I shouldn't have left. Shouldn't have lost my temper either."

Dick froze. What?

"I…" He took a deep breath before continuing. "I understand what it's like to feel like you're all alone and that no one cares, and no one ever will. I used to live on the streets. I'm not going to pretend I know what you've been through because I don't know."

Out of politeness and maybe a little bit of Dick pretended he didn't see those eyes linger on the scars on his arms.

"But…" Jason tensed. "No more of this shit, okay? You sure as hell don't need to get beat up to lay low. Jesus, Dick, you're going to get yourself fucking killed. You're not someone's fucking punching bag..." His eyes drifted away. Hesitation.

"Look, I got an idea. I say you're mine. They won't touch you then, and I won't hesitate to show them why they shouldn't if they do. You still get to steal shit and no one will know what you're capable of, but now you don't get hurt for no fucking reason… So just say yes before I change my mind."

Somehow, Dick got the feeling that it was more than just protection. Deep down, they both knew what Jason was really asking.

Dick wanted nothing more to say no. He'd been asked by more than one sugar daddy or for something more serious, and he'd always backed out. They'd been nothing more than playthings really, and once they'd become boring or wanted more than he could give, he moved on. It was that simple. As people, they were never interesting, and he was always clear about his intentions. It was always their fault for not understanding. He should say no. Jason disapproved of his methods and was trying to fix it, and that was something he didn't like.

Yet...

"Are you really asking to protect me, or do you want to date me?" Dick asked with a grin. "Because either way the answer is yes."

To become a good thief, it was essential to be able to weigh the risks and rewards, unobjectively. To understand your own weakness and strengths, to know what you could get away with. Somewhere between watching his parents die and his argument with Jason, trusting people had become a risk he was unable to take. Somehow, maybe he'd even forgotten what love and trust felt like.

But from the very beginning Jason was different.

His smile, his real smile, was so soft and kind. His eyes were two pools of emotion and probably a reason why he wore the Hood; he could never hide what he was really feeling when they were visible. He was covered in scars small and large, but they never seemed to distract from his appearance. Most of all he was strong, strong and somehow kind through all the hardship he must have been through, and more determined than anyone Dick had ever met. He was angry, yes, almost permanently, but he didn't wallow in it. No, he acted. He cared, though he didn't say it, only offered his help. Somehow, that was exactly what Dick wanted. Jason was what Dick wanted.

The needy, selfish way their lips crash together makes it all worth it. It's not love yet, not really. But it doesn't seem to matter.

"I was half expecting you to say no," Jason murmurs against his lips when they finally break for air. "...I was almost completely expecting you to say no."

"Me too," Dick admits. "With anyone else, I would have. But you're different, Jason Todd. You always have been."

"So are you, Dick Grayson." That smile Dick loves so much stretches across his face, and before he can stop himself he's kissing him desperately all over again.

For the first time in a long time, they were both happy.