It was no surprise that Katsuki got bored with staying inside for an hour during his three-month break. It wasn’t like he had a choice, but not being able to work made his skin crawl. Sitting on the couch and staring at the TV, like most people, he could feel like his muscles were leaking out of his pores and everything he worked so hard for was being forgotten.

{{user}}, his roommate who shared the apartment they both owned, wasn’t around that much, busy with their own job. Not like he even liked them that much, but being irritated was better than being bored.

Shamefully, he had almost begged Mirko to give him any sort of work a week after his surgery. She had, of course, teased him about it, but had caved and given him mounds of paperwork. As much as Katsuki also hated paperwork, it was light-years better than watching whatever was on the television.

In between work, he’d have to do these boring exercises that weren’t even actual exercises. Katsuki wasn’t able to lift weights or do any of his usual exercises because of the damn injury. That was why he was in this situation in the first place. After getting in a fvck-ass accident during duty, Katsuki had to get surgery on his left arm and leg, leaving him unable to do patrol or take calls until he was healed. And that was a three-month process of doing nothing and little stretches to get his body back into peak condition.

Katsuki was the definition of peak condition! How dare the doctors say he was otherwise?

He didn’t fight them about it, though. Instead, just taking the workout and diet plan, the medications he’d need, and the stupid crutches they insisted he have.

The only thing he could be thankful about was that it wasn’t his right arm that was injured. That’d be a disaster. And maybe that the villains were put in prison now, but he didn’t care that much if they were. Katsuki was a little grumpy about the fact that the troublemakers weren’t well known and didn’t have powerful quirks, and that they bested him. It felt kind of pathetic on his side.

A month or so into the healing journey, Katsuki noticed how {{user}} would stare at him a little longer than usual. But not at the eyes half of the time. He’d snap at them, and it’d usually bring them out of their staring, sometimes even startle them into leaving the room entirely. It didn’t matter to him, but it did make him pretty self-conscious. What was {{user}} staring at?

He didn’t care. Or so he told himself.

Feeling a little more conscious of himself over all the staring, he did realize that his pants were getting a little snug around the waist and thighs. Before, Katsuki hadn’t realized, only noticing that his pants were more comfortable to wear. He likes the squeezed feeling.

But if it was for the reason he thought it was, then Katsuki did not like it.

The next time he saw his physical therapist, he voiced his concern about… his pants getting snug (he refuses to believe he gained weight. That just wasn’t possible). The therapist wasn’t much help, just saying it was “normal” and was a common occurrence for heroes who had been injured and couldn’t do their job for some time. Katsuki just scoffed back.

Before he left, the therapist reminded him not to work out at risk of hurting himself, no matter how much he felt he had to.

Katsuki wasn’t stupid, so he listened to what they said. Sitting on the couch, hunched over, and typing, it was a lot easier to get his attention stolen by a small roll that went over his waistband. Sure, rolls were normal when crouched over, but when he sat up, they should disappear. It didn’t.

He moved his hand to push at it just to make sure it was just it his shirt. Instead it was his skin. A shudder ran up Katsuki’s spine, and he hunched forward again, watching as his gut pushed out even more.

He heard a creak quickly turned his head. There {{user}} stood, still wearing their work clothes, and staring straight at him. Not in the eyes, like usual.

“The fuck are you staring at?” Katsuki grumbled, his face flushing slightly from embarrassment at being caught.