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“You did what now?”

“Don’t hit me,” Roy says, holding a throw pillow in front of him. “You love my face. Anyway, it’ll be fun. Look, I signed myself up too. Ooh, check it out, I already got a hit. Fuck, he’s huge. And he’s into...anyway.” Roy coughs and slides his phone into the back pocket of his stupid cut-off daisy dukes but Jason isn’t accepting it, tackles Roy to the couch and digs Roy’s phone out of his back pocket.

“Hey now,” Roy grins and squirms underneath him. “Didn’t you friendzone me like a month after we met?”

Jason rolls his eyes, holds Roy down with his thighs while he swipes through his phone. “Aw come on,” he says, smirking down at Roy. “What’s that you’re always telling me? You don’t know if you like something ‘til you try it? You’ve never tried dressing up like a giant baby and being bottle fed by a huge, hairy dude. Maybe you’ll like it.”

Roy flips Jason off and snatches his phone out of Jason’s hand, shoving him off of him onto the floor. “It’s not all weirdly specific kinks, you know. Some people just want to talk or whatever.”

“I hate talking,” Jason says.

“And some people,” Roy continues, grabs Jason’s phone off the coffee table and starts swiping through his profile. “Suck at human socialization just as much as you do and just want a no strings attached hook-up.”

“Whatever,” Jason says. “Unlike some useless unemployed d-bags --”

“Hey, the band is on a hiatus--”

“I have a fucking job. I don’t have time to sit here and swipe through pictures of weirdos that want to powder my ass or dress me up like a panda or -- hold up, who’s that?”

Roy grins and holds the phone out of Jason’s reach. “Oh, you don’t have time for this, remember? Hottie McBody here probably want to cover you in gravy or --”

“Fuckin’ give me it,” Jason swears and twists one of Roy’s nipples, making him squeal and toss Jason’s phone to him.

“Bitch,” Roy scowls and rubs his chest through his shirt. “You know my nipples are super sensitive.”

“Yeah yeah,” Jason mutters, leaning back against the couch with his phone. “Write a letter to Dr. Ruth about it. Jesus christ, this guy is a beast.

Roy scoots over on the couch and sets his chin on Jason’s shoulder. “Daaaamn, Jaybird. That’s like, all your type and a bag of chips.”

Jason turns and wrinkles his nose at Roy. “What the fuck,” he says. “Does that even mean?”

Roy shrugs, pops his gum. “Click on his thingy,” he says and leers at Jason, waggles his eyebrows like a moron. “You know, his profile thing.”

B,” Jason reads. “Currently looking for friends, dates, casual hook-ups --”

“See,” Roy says. “Totally your type.”

“Interests include,” Jason continues, ignoring him. “Art, the ballet, and people who can make me laugh.”

“Hey, you like art,” Roy pokes him in the side. “You fuckin’ love that Bali dude with all the melting clocks”

Dali,” Jason grits out. “Salvador fuckin’ Dali, stop acting dumber than you are”

“Whatever,” Roy says, hopping up and digging around in Jason’s jacket pockets until he finds his pack of cigarettes. “You should reply to him or poke him or however that shit works.”

“I don’t know,” Jason says. “What if he’s like, an axe murderer?”

“Seriously?” Roy mumbles, lighting the cigarette in his mouth. “It’s two-thousand fifteen. Seventy-five percent of the people getting married today met on the internet somewhere.”

“You’re totally pulling that out of your ass.”

“I am totally pulling that out of my ass,” Roy smirks, his too small t-shirt riding up when he reaches up to scratch his head, flashing the silver bar in his belly button. “But I can’t be that far off. Between facebook and tinder and that OkCupid shit the internet is pretty much the only thing getting sad fucks like us laid.”

“Hey,” Jason says. “There was that one guy. From the gym.”

“That was a month ago,” Roy says, blowing smoke out the window. “That’s terrible. I’m pretty sure even Wally’s gotten laid since then and he probably just tripped and fell on that guy’s dick. Come on. Send him an emoji or something. I’d go with like, a winkie face instead of like, a penis or something. He seems too classy for that.”

“Thanks,” Jason says. “For your infinite wisdom, as always. Twat.”

Roy blows him a kiss. “Love you too, baby.”

“Well,” Jason says, kicking his feet up on the coffee table and opening the chat box to reply. “Here’s hoping you’re not an axe murderer, B.”




Jason keeps glancing at his phone for about an hour after he sends the message to “B”, then he has to get off his ass and get ready for work.

It’s Saturday night so the restaurant is slammed and Jason doesn’t even end up getting a break the entire night, is so tired when he finally gets off that he forgets to even look at his phone and goes straight to bed once he gets back to the apartment, sleeps like the dead for the next ten hours.

Sunday morning the alarm clock on his phone wakes him up and when Jason swipes across the screen to turn it off he sees he’s got four missed texts and a little notification in the corner of the screen from the app Roy signed him up for. Three of the texts are from Roy quoting Empire Records at him and the fourth one is from Dick, asking how Roy’s doing. Jason ignores him because nope, he is not getting in the middle of that, and pulls up the dating app.

It kind of takes his breath away when he sees B’s profile photo again (it should be a crime to look that fucking good), and it’s stupid the way his pulse races when he reads B’s reply to him. People tell him he’s gorgeous practically ten times a day, but for some reason hearing it from this guy makes Jason’s cheeks go warm, like he’s never gotten a compliment before.

He shoots back a reply and waits a few minutes, gets in the shower when he doesn’t get anything back, and when he gets out the little green light on his phone is blinking. He swipes the screen and grins when he sees B’s reply, flops down on his bed and sends Roy a text.

Guess who’s got a date, bitch.

No way, Roy sends back a second later. with the hottie? lucky bastard. when?

Tonight. We’re going to a gallery opening. Where the hell are you?


Then immediately after:

Don’t, okay?

Jason sighs, scrubs at the stubble on his face, but he’s not touching that particular hot mess with a ten foot pole covered in a hazmat suit.

there’s leftover veal parmigiana in the fridge is all he says before he throws his phone on the bed and starts searching his closet for something decent to wear later.



“So,” Jason says when they meet at the train station, trying his level best not to just stand there and stare slack jawed at how fucking unreal this guy is in person. Gorgeous head of black hair, blue eyes like you wouldn’t believe, a jawline that might actually be sculpted out of marble -- the pictures seriously didn’t do him any kind of justice. “Just guessing your name isn’t actually just B.”

That’s when the guy smiles at him and Jason thinks his knees actually go a little weak. What the hell.

“My name is Bruce,” he says and offers Jason his hand, clasps Jason’s hand firmly when he takes it and Jason kind of doesn’t want to let go. “I apologize for the pretense,” Bruce says. “I work at a fairly well known hospital and I don’t like to --”

Jason holds a hand up, shakes his head. “Don’t have to explain anything to me,” he says as the train doors open. “I’m still on the fence whether you’re going to try and chop me up and put me in a stew later.”

Bruce laughs as they board the train and the sound makes Jason go warm all over, remembers that bit from Bruce’s profile, people who can make me laugh.

They stand together on the train and Jason tries not to learn in closer to breath in Bruce’s cologne, ends up telling Bruce about the restaurant he works at and how he’s taking online classes in his spare time to get his business degree so that one day he can own his own place.

“That sounds great,” Bruce says. “I’d love to try something you’ve made some time.”

“Well,” Jason says. “I know you said you wanted to go to Belle Nuit after the gallery, but --”

Bruce smiles in the corner of his mouth. “I’d be honored to have you cook for me, Jason.”

“Sweet,” Jason says. “Because I know the sous chef there and I wouldn’t eat a ham sandwich that prick made. Just saying.”

Bruce laughs again and it causes the same reaction in Jason’s gut, makes it hard for him to stop looking at Bruce’s face, how his eyes get even brighter when he laughs.

They get to the gallery a little after seven and Bruce introduces Jason to the gallery owner, a stunning brunette named Selina who fills out a little black dress almost as good as Bruce fills out his suit. She offers them champagne and shows them around to some of the more popular pieces, then leaves them to go mingle with some potential buyers.

“Well she’s --” Jason says and Bruce smiles around the rim of his glass.

“Passionate?” He says and Jason’s too transfixed by how his hand dwarfs the champagne flute to pay attention what he says after that.

“Ahh, and here’s the guest of honor,” Bruce says and Jason turns around to see a girl with fiery red hair and glasses wheel up to them. “Everything looks wonderful, Barbara, as alw --”

“Uh huh,” Barbara cuts him off, looking Jason up and down. “Who’s the jailbait?”

Jason looks at Bruce just in time to see him turn a pretty bright shade of red, sipping on his champagne to try to hide the fact.

“I like her,” Jason grins and extends his arm. “The jailbait’s name is Jason, by the way. Your work is amazing.”

“Thank you,” Barbara says, smiling as she shakes his hand. “And sorry about that. It’s just so fun to give him a hard time, you know?”

Jason doesn’t know, not yet. But something tells him he’d like to find out.

“You are like, legally allowed to be drinking that though, right?”

Jason just winks at her and tosses back the rest of his champagne.

“Forgive her,” Bruce says. “She has a condition.”

Jason looks slightly offended on her behalf for a moment before Barbara laughs and says, “He means my lack of filter. Anyway, I’ll let you boys enjoy your night.” She pokes Bruce as she wheels by. “And buy a painting or four.”

“I really like her,” Jason says again, grinning as Bruce puts his hand on the small of his back and guides him to the next exhibit.

“She’s an acquired taste,” Bruce says, though Jason can see the fond smirk in the corner of his mouth. “Though I suppose you shouldn’t be drinking that, should you?”

Jason quirks an eyebrow at him. “I said on my profile I was twenty-one.”

“You did,” Bruce smirks and presses in against Jason as a couple pass by them in them hall, lingers close even after they’re gone and murmurs next to his ear, “You also lied.”

“You didn’t disclose your real name,” Jason grins. “I didn’t disclose my real age. Is that a problem?”

“Hm,” Bruce says. “You’re in college so I’m assuming you’re at least eighteen.”

“You don’t know,” Jason teases. “Maybe I’m some kind of prodigy, graduated when I was sixteen.”

“In that case,” Bruce says, lowering his voice as they walk up to crowd surrounding a sculpture crafted entirely out of aluminum foil, his hand still low on Jason’s back. “I think I’d be in a bit of trouble.”

Jason tries not to shiver at the implications in Bruce’s tone and mostly fails, can feel the heat of Bruce’s palm even through his shirt and gets lost in his thoughts for a moment, imagining what those hands would feel like on the rest of him.

“You know,” Bruce says after a few minutes, after everyone else has moved on to the next exhibit. “I’m getting quite hungry. How about you?”

“Sounds good,” Jason says. “You are going to buy one of Barb’s paintings though, right? I mean. She’s pretty scary.”

“Of course.” Bruce smiles. “Let me track down Selina and we can go. I don’t suppose you’d like to help me pick one out?”

“Uh,” Jason says. “I mean, it’s your money.”

“Yes, but Barbara’s style it’s...a bit modern for my taste. I’m sure you’d be better suited for choosing the right piece.”

Jason shrugs and walks with Bruce over to Barbara’s display, helps him pick out an abstract piece with lots of bold, neon blocks of color, and stands by as Bruce gives Selina his address so it can be delivered.

They stop by the market for the ingredients Jason needs to make dinner, then grab a cab over to Bruce’s place, which is a loft only a few blocks away and makes Jason and Roy’s apartment look like a beat up tin can in comparison. It’s got an open floor plan and there’s art on every wall, huge floor to ceiling windows, and a fucking giant kitchen; it’s like Jason’s dream home come to life.

“Jesus,” he says when he walks in the kitchen, runs his hand down the marble countertop. “I bet you don’t even cook in here, do you?”

“I work long hours,” Bruce says, but when Jason gives him a look he caves. “Oh alright,” he says with a crooked grin that is far too sexy than anything has a right to be. “I’m afraid I can’t even cook a box of macaroni without some kind of disaster.”

“Ew,” Jason says. “And you shouldn’t. Ever. Cheese should not be that color.”

Bruce smiles as he takes the wine out of the bag. “Noted. No cheese from a box.”

“I mean, you’re a doctor, right? You should probably know how terrible that shit is for you.”

“How did you --”

Jason shrugs as he chops up the celery. “You already said you worked at a well known hospital.”

“Ahh,” Bruce says. “So I did.”

“You’re Bruce Wayne, right?” Jason looks up to ask and Bruce nods.

“I know all about your, uh, mom’s work,” Jason says, wondering if it’s actually a good idea to bring up the guy you plan on banging’s dead parents.

“Oh?” Bruce asks and pours them each a glass of wine.

“Yeah, she did a lot of work in the neighborhood I grew up in. Saved a lot of kids, got a lot of their parents off drugs. She was...a really great person. Sorry, is this --”

“It’s fine,” Bruce smiles. “Thank you for telling me that, it’s always nice to hear how my parents made a difference. That’s why I do what I do. I just hope that I can make a big of difference as they did one day.”

“You will,” Jason says. “I can tell. You’re just that kind of person, you know?”

“You’re sweet,” Bruce says and reaches out, wipes away the little drop of wine on Jason’s bottom lip with his thumb and Jason forgets about the celery, darts his tongue out and sucks Bruce’s thumb into his mouth.

Jason,” Bruce says, sucking in a breath, and then he’s kissing him, wall of solid body pressing Jason into the counter, cupping his face as he licks into his mouth, gripping Jason’s hip with his free hand. Jason parts his mouth and cups the back of Bruce’s neck, deepening the kiss, fucking his tongue into Bruce’s mouth until Bruce pulls back, a little breathless, and says, “The dinner.”

“Fuck the dinner,” Jason says and gets his hands in Bruce’s hair like he’s been thinking about since the moment he saw him, drags Bruce back down to suck on his bottom lip, pulls his shirt out of his pants and starts unbuttoning it. “Fuck, your body’s incredible. Wanna put my mouth all over it. But mostly,” Jason drops down to his knees, palms Bruce’s cock through his slacks, then gets his belt open. “I just want this.”

“Oh god,” Bruce groans as Jason takes him into his mouth. “Jason, your -- god.

Jason moans around Bruce and relaxes his throat, takes him even deeper, makes appreciative, encouraging little noises when Bruce’s hands fall in his hair and is so fucking glad that Bruce isn’t one of those guys that needs step-by-step directions, takes Jason’s cues for what they are starts fucking his mouth the way he likes. He’s not rough, just shallow thrusts as he grips the back of his head, but it’s still good, perfect, and Jason’s so hard he gets his pants open and sticks his hand down the front, jerks off a little as he sucks Bruce’s dick like it’s his goddamn religion.

“Jason,” Bruce says his name like it’s being ripped out of him, almost like it pains him, squeezing Jason’s shoulder, and Jason pulls off of him, wipes his mouth. Then Bruce drops to his knees in front of him and takes Jason’s face between his hands, kisses him so hard Jason wonders if lips can actually bruise, unbuttons Jason’s shirt and pulls it off of him and Jason was wrong about how good those hands would feel on him because it’s so much better than he could have ever imagined. He wants those hands everywhere and after a moment he gets his wish when Bruce reaches between them and wraps one of his huge, soft, surgeon’s hands around Jason’s dick, kisses him while he slowly strokes him, rubbing his thumb through the precome gathered at the head.

“Fuck,” Jason says into Bruce’s shoulder. “Your hands. God, Bruce I want…”

“What,” Bruce murmurs into Jason’s ear. “Tell me what you want, Jason. I’ll give it to you, anything you want.”

“God,” Jason gasps when Bruce brings his hand to his mouth, licks the taste of Jason from his fingers. “I want you to fuck me with those huge,” he leans in and darts his tongue out, tastes himself on Bruce’s fingers. “Thick fingers. Then I want to ride your cock so hard I won’t be able to sit for a week. How does that sound?”

“Christ,” Bruce whispers, pulling Jason in by his hair to crash their mouths together. “Yes. Go get on the bed and get the rest of your clothes off.”

He fucks his tongue into Jason’s mouth one more time before he lets him go, wanders off to the bathroom and comes back with a tube of lube and a few condoms, just stands at the end of the bed and stares at Jason for a few moments, licks his lips as he watches Jason slowly stroking his cock.

“Don’t make me beg,” Jason finally says and Bruce’s mouth twists up as he pushes his pants and boxers off his hips.

“Another time, then,” Bruce says as he crawls on the bed towards him and it almost sounds like a promise, like this isn’t just some random, one time hook-up. He kisses his way up Jason’s chest, starting from his hip, bites at his throat when Jason grabs him by the head and presses him there, then kisses him, slow and deep, and murmurs “turn over,” across his lips.

Jason rolls over and groans when he feels Bruce’s hands squeezing his ass, spreading him open, moans into the pillow when he feels Bruce’s tongue dart out and tease his hole.

“Oh fuck,” Jason gasps when Bruce buries his tongue inside of him, when he just starts eating Jason out and moaning against him like it’s his favorite thing in the world. “Bruce, fuck. That’s -- oh god, yes.”

Before long Jason’s reaching back and grabbing a fistful of Bruce’s hair, grinding his ass against his mouth and making some probably really embarrassing noise but he doesn’t even care, saying Bruce’s name over and over until it loses all meaning. Right when he thinks he’s going to come just from Bruce rimming him, Bruce pulls away, works two fingers inside Jason right away, curling them and hitting Jason’s prostate on the first thrust.

“Fuck, I’m --”

coming, Jason doesn’t quite get out before his body shudders, hips twitching, squeezing around the fingers inside of him as he comes all over himself and Bruce’s nice satin sheets.

“Jesus christ,” he says after Bruce pulls his fingers out of him, panting as he rolls away from the wet spot. “Sorry, I just --”

But Bruce is already rolling on a condom, squeezing lube onto his hand and slicking his dick up, his eyes dark and so fucking intense it’s making Jason’s dick hard again just looking at him. But then he’s dipping his head and licking the come off of Jason’s belly, sucking his cock down, and Jason’s never gotten so hard again so quickly in his life. Bruce takes him all the way down, nudges Jason’s thighs open and sucks his balls into his mouth, then licks back up his cock and as he swallows him back down he slides two fingers back inside of Jason.

“Fuck fuck,” Jason shouts and bucks into Bruce’s mouth, gets one of Bruce’s hands on his hip to hold him down in return. Jason can’t help it though, he’s got to do something, so he spreads his legs even further, buries his hand in Bruce’s hair, lets one of his hands fall down to cup Bruce’s cheek.

“God,” he throws his head back when he feels Bruce’s throat flutter around him, when Bruce adds another finger inside him. “God. You’re going to make me come again, fuck.”

Bruce takes that as a challenge apparently and ups his game, starts fucking Jason with his fingers even harder as he bobs up and down on his dick, making the filthiest, hottest sounds, until Jason lets out a hoarse shout and comes without warning down Bruce’s throat, leans up on his elbows to watch him swallow around him, see the come dribble out the side of his mouth.

When Bruce slides his fingers out of him, Jason drags Bruce up to him, licks his come off his mouth and kisses him.

“I love your taste,” Bruce murmurs against Jason’s jaw, spreads Jason’s legs and thrusts right inside of him.

Fuck,” Jason shouts and grasps at Bruce’s shoulders, his hair, his face, anything as Bruce starts to fuck him. He doesn’t wait for Jason to get used to it and Jason doesn’t need it, he needs this, being completely filled up and fucked. “God, you feel,” Jason says, pausing when Bruce leans down and captures his mouth, drags Jason’s bottom lip through his teeth. “So fucking good. So fucking big, god. I’m going to be feeling this for days.

“Yes,” Bruce growls and thrusts into him deeper. “I want you think about me when you’re so sore you can’t sit,” he says and leans back, spreads Jason’s thighs wide and grips his ankles. “I want you to remember how I filled you up and stretched you open.” He leans in and Jason feels like he’s folded in half, whimpers at the shift in the angle, how fucking deep it gets Bruce inside of him. “I want to ruin you for other men.”

“Oh my god,” Jason says and wraps his hand around his dick, locks his eyes with Bruce. “Fuck me.”

Bruce growls at that and pulls out, flips Jason over and pulls him back on his cock, bruises Jason’s hips with his hands as he pounds into him. The bed shakes with it, the room filled with Bruce’s grunts and Jason’s pathetic whimpering moans and the sound of flesh slapping against flesh as Bruce just pounds into him over and over until finally he shouts and sinks his teeth into Jason’s shoulder, nearly shoving Jason off the bed when he comes.



After they shower Jason finally finishes dinner, his famous lobster bisque with breadsticks and a salad, and Bruce mostly remembers to keep his hands off of him while he cooks, though the breadsticks do come out a little browner than Jason likes.

“This is absolutely amazing,” Bruce says after the first bite. “Really, Jason. You have a gift.”

Jason blushes at the comment and deflects it with something self-deprecating, but Bruce just smiles at him and touches the top of his hand and it makes Jason realize he's actually being sincere and he doesn’t quite know what to do with that.

After dinner Jason helps Bruce wash up and they get half of the dishes done before Jason’s on the edge of the counter, his legs wrapped around Bruce as Bruce kisses his neck, his throat, all the way down to his navel before he smirks, stands back up and says, “I do believe you said something about riding me?”

“How could I forget?” Jason grins and pushes Bruce back to the bed, rolls a condom on Bruce’s dick as soon as he gets undressed, watches Bruce’s pretty eyelashes flutter when he slicks him up and the way his mouth goes slack when Jason sinks down on him.

“My god, you’re beautiful,” Bruce murmurs when Jason links their fingers together, using Bruce’s hands for leverage to lift himself up and down on his cock. “Just look at you. I could fuck you like this all day, Jason. I want to.”

“God,” Jason says, bringing one of Bruce’s hands down to his dick. “Yes. Touch me, please.”

“Anything,” Bruce says and Jason moans when Bruce’s fingers curl around him, shudders when Bruce’s thumb passes over his slit and spreads the precome leaking out all over Jason’s cock. “God, you’re so wet for me. You love this, don’t you?”

“Yes, fuck yes.” Jason gasps out, bouncing hard on Bruce’s dick as Bruce jerks him off. “God, please don’t stop.”

“Never,” Bruce growls, sitting up and wrapping his arms around Jason, crushing their mouths together as he fucks up into him, squeezing Jason’s shoulders. “Jason, god. Do you even know ---”

“Fuck,” Jason shouts. “Right there. Harder. Fuck me, Bruce. Fuck me, oh f--”

Jason lets out a strangled moan into Bruce’s shoulder when he comes this time, spilling all over Bruce’s chest and his own stomach, and Bruce gives him a moment to catch his breath before he rolls him to the side and slides back into him.

“I love that you can come just from me,” Bruce murmurs next to his ear as he fucks into him, the bed frame shaking and squeaking from the force of it. “Without being touched. God, Jason. I never -- never want to stop --”

“Yeah,” Jason says, craning his neck to catch Bruce’s mouth, slip his tongue inside and kiss him while Bruce pounds into him. “Come on. Come for me, Bruce.”

“God,” Bruce whispers and presses his face into the back of Jason’s head, brands Jason’s hips with his fingertips as he fucks into him until he lets out an almost inhuman sound, buries himself so deep inside Jason that Jason whines, and then Bruce finally comes, licking the sweat from Jason’s neck as the aftershocks ripple through him, murmuring Jason’s name like some kind of prayer.

“That was amazing,” he says, running his fingers through Jason’s sweat dampened hair, still buried inside of him like he’s reluctant to let go. Jason turns and kisses him, slow and languid, and sucks on his tongue.

“Yeah,” he says finally, after Bruce has eased out of him and tossed the condom in the wastebasket, pulled Jason on top of his chest so he can keep touching his hair. “It was fucking awesome. I should probably get going though.”

Bruce waits until Jason gets his pants almost zipped up to say, “You could stay.”

Jason looks up at him, pants still halfway open, and blinks. He wasn’t exactly expecting that. This was just supposed to be a one night stand, no strings attached hook-up, right? Like, that’s what Jason does. He doesn’t stay the night. He doesn’t do morning afters. Less drama that way. Less opportunity to get your heart fucking stomped to pieces like Roy.

“Unless,” Bruce says with that little smirk that makes Jason wants to take his pants right back off. “You still think I’m going to cut you up into a souffle.”

“A stew,” Jason corrects, but then he’s crawling back on the bed, crawling up Bruce’s body and straddling him, forgetting all about logic and reason. “I mean, you probably do eat something terrible for breakfast.”

“Oatmeal,” Bruce says, his eyes wrinkling in the corners when he smiles, and Jason cringes.

“It’s settled then,” Jason says, touching his thumb to one of the bruises he left on Bruce earlier while the bisque came to a boil. “I’m just going to have to make you breakfast.”

“It’s settled,” Bruce smiles and Jason crawls under the covers when Bruce switches off the lights, falls asleep to Bruce’s fingers stroking through his hair.

As first dates go, Jason thinks, he’s definitely had worse.