Archive of Our Own

As Zoro’s boyfriend- a term he’d just about got used to, he was becoming increasingly concerned when Zoro stopped taking his midday naps on the galley sofa. 

Elbow deep in soapy water, Sanji arched his head to see the room as empty as when he’d last looked a few minutes ago. As empty as yesterday, and the day before. 

Usually he’d at least have Luffy here- large watery eyes locked on the counter as he begged for food scraps, but without ever having a formal conversation with the crew, they now all knew to clear out after lunch, aware it was his and Zoro’s one time to really be alone together

…or was. 

Cheek clamped between his teeth, Sanji violently shook a plate dry. 

Was it because he’d finished the dishes two days ago and woken Zoro up by shoving his cold, wet hands inside his top? It had only been a joke. 

“Have you seen Zoro?” 

Nami and Usopp were sunbathing on the deck outside the galley. Arms behind their heads as they slowly looked to where his head stuck out from behind the door. 

“Sanji? Where are our drinks?” Nami heard her own words and seemed to jolt. “Sorry, that sounded awful. it’s not that I want you to run around after us, but you always bring me a drink around now when you're done with Zoro.” Using the tip of her finger she pushed down her sunglasses.

Sanji looked down at his empty hands. Sleeves still pushed back to his elbows from washing the dishes. He took a self continuous step backwards. 

“Zoro’s in the galley.” Usopp mumbled, made sleepy by the hot sun. 

“Unless he’s wedged himself into a cupboard then no, he’s not in the galley and sorry Nami-san! I’ll correct my grievous error!” 

It wasn’t his best work; lemonade with a splash of elderflower cordial. Three ice cubes trying to escape the glass. It appeared rather unbalanced and far too sweet. 

Watching their pursed lips around the glass he’d hastily handed over, surged his confusion into full blown anger. 

“Marimo!” 

After the crow's nest and bunk room (the most obvious choices), he’d resorted to stomping around the boat, calling out for him like a dog. Frustration surging, he began opening wardrobes, peering into places he’d never seen before. 

“How have I lost a grown man?” Sanji muttered, rounding the corner to Franky's  workshop. It was loud down here, hissing from giant pumps and pistons. His shoulders were up around his neck. “Marimo!” 

“Sanji, whatever you do, do not move.” Franky appeared from behind a machine, wearing goggles with his hands out in front. 

With a sensation of great doom, Sanji stared at where his foot was half decompressing a pressure plate. 

-

Black ash dusting his cheeks, he shoved open the door to the library with little strength. 

Large arched windows bathed the entire room in a warm blue. What parts of the wall weren't windows were shelves.

 Hundreds of books were stored here from members of the crew. Chopper, Robin and him stored textbooks, ancient scriptures and recipe books respectively, but Zoro, who was sitting at the thick wooden table in the centre, hadn't donated anything. Sanji suspected his reading level was around the same as a ten year old. All these facts together made his hiding spot all the more baffling.

 Before Zoro could see him, Sanji took a second to run a finger over the lines on his forehead, smoothing out his tight expression into something passive. His finger’s came away black with soot that he rubbed quickly away on his trouser leg. A nervous look in his eye, he wiped his sleeve over his face. Cool as a cucumber. Zoro couldn’t guess he’d been screaming round the boat after him and nearly blown up in Franky’s workshop.

At first glance Zoro was playing with string, spinning it back and forth with a small stick. Sanji blinked and leant in. 

“Oh hi.” Zoro murmured, sitting back in the chair. His eyes quickly left him to go back to the mess in his hands. 

Sanji forgot what line he was going to say. “Is that Robin's knitting? Mosshead, you've tangled her wool.” 

Zoro shot him a look from the side of his eye. “Go away, I’m trying to focus.” 

Feeling the familiar itch to annoy him, Sanji leant in even further so his long hair swung into his eyes. “You’ve just made a giant knot.” 

“Good.” 

“You wanted to make a giant knot?” 

“Maybe.” 

Aware whatever this was was going to take some time, Sanji pulled out the chair next to Zoro and waited. Bitterness rose and increased with each minute that he was being ignored for string. 

It took another thirty minutes before the wool and stick were flying across the room. 

“Finished?” 

“No!” Zoro stood. The table groaned at the rough action that matched his feet stomping across the room. Wool back in his hands, he started tugging at it until it unfurled in a violent spin. 

Head buried in his crossed arms flat against the table. Sanji thought about kicking Zoro or wobbling the table until he couldn’t do-… whatever it was he was doing. What was he supposed to do, ask for Zoro’s attention? Hah . 

Sanji twisted his head until he could see out of one eye without it being obvious he was staring. 

Had the novelty of woo-ing the blonde cook worn off? Too accessible; He’d let Zoro kiss him and now was being taken for granted. Dumped after only three weeks. If he’d known it would go this way he would have rationed himself out. Timed their interactions to build intrigue. 

“It's crochet.” 

Sanji raised his head and a rather pathetic warmth spread like wildfire at the attention. He looked at the mess in Zoro’s grip with fresh eyes. “Are you sure?” He asked carefully. 

“I’m going to stab you.” The stick was jabbed in his direction. “Yes! It's supposed to be.” 

“Okay.” Sanji said slowly, eyes going in and out of focus on the stick in front of his eyes.  A notch at the end rounded it into a hook. “Why have you spent two days doing crochet?”

“In that letter I received from Perona she sent this…recipe to me.” 

“Recipe? Give it here.” Sanji snatched the paper. 

“Be careful! This is why I’m not doing this out on the deck, I don’t need it blown into the sea. The library is also the only place I can see what I’m doing.”

“It's just letters.” Sanji brang the pink paper closer to his face as if it would somehow reveal more information. 

“And numbers.”

“Okay, letters and numbers, why would she expect you of all people to be able to read this?” Sanji squinted down at the page.

“Because she taught me.” Zoro looked at the wall of books without seeing them. “We had a lot of free time on that island between training.” He blinked and turned his head to look at Sanji. “But that was almost a year ago. Somehow she expects me to just know what this means and crotchet it and I don’t. I thought it would be like muscle memory.”

Sanji sat back in his seat. Satisfied now the mystery had been solved. On the top of the pink tinted page was written the words hat. He whistled. “Seems a bit advanced for you.” 

More lines stretched across Zoro’s face. Pride probably on the floor. “Is someone grumpy because I didn’t supervise him doing the dishes? I could hear you screaming for me from up here.”

So he had heard. Sanji opened and closed his mouth, finally deciding on. “Was worried you’d got lost and fallen off the boat.” 

Zoro’s nose scrunched– face more akin to origami. Any more tension, he’d fold into a crane. He refused to look up from his growing knot. 

Sanji’s elbows rested on the table with an audible tap, leaving the room in a charged silence. 

Ever since they’d got together around three weeks ago they’d been on awkward ground in regards to their arguments. Before it would be a competition to see who could make the other angrier. If someone like Robin was going to psychoanalyze them, maybe she would come up with a hypothesis that they wanted the other’s attention or it was their version of quality time, maybe. But despite that there was a slight awkwardness that was hard to maneuver around; Unsure if the other had taken it seriously or where the line even was anymore. 

“You’re determined.” Sanji forced out the encouraging words. “I know you can figure it out.” Zoro’s eyes widened, aware that the encouraging words were so foreign it almost sounded like someone else had said them. Sanji watched Zoro’s face relax, hand readjusting his hold on the hook. 

“It’s weird when you're nice.” Zoro shivered then said, “Thanks,” and looked away from his crochet, finally up at him.

“See if I do it again.” Sanji muttered under his breath, trying to prevent the blush. 

“Are the dishes all alright?” 

“Yes, the dishes are tucked away safe in their cabinet.” Sanji said with humor. He held his breath and slid sideways until he could rest his head on Zoro’s shoulder and inhale his scent. He was conditioned to be asleep around this time as Zoro without fail had always successfully persuaded Sanji to join him in his naps, a hand around his waist to guide him down onto the galley sofa. The length of their bodies pressed together was still new enough for his skin to heat. It had become something of a routine. 

“Sleep.” A gruff voice said gently. Sanji’s lidded eyes looked up to find Zoro staring at him. “I’ll be right here.” 

“Kay.” Sanji said, vision going hazy as Zoro continued to spin blue wool around the hook. 

He awoke later on to feel somebody lifting his wrist. His fingers twitched. 

His eyes felt like they were glued together, having to be rubbed to be released by his free hand. Oh. Blue little bubbles of wool were wrapped around his wrist. A snip echoed through the room and his wrist was dropped back to the table with a thump.

 “What?” Sanji murmured and raised his hand to his eye line. The blue bracelet slipped down. The stitches were uneven but held as he tugged.

“I finally remembered the first bit- a chain, here watch.” Zoro grabbed the wool with the hook and pulled it through the loop that was already on the hook. He repeated it a couple of times and the pattern Sanji recognised as the one attached to his wrist formed. Long bubbles. 

“It’s certainly…I got to be honest, that sucks.” Sanji yawned. “What are you gonna make with that? A snake?” He shook his wrist, watching the bracelet stutter up and down against his arm hair.

“Fuck you. It’s the first bit! You add to it somehow. I have to remember what SC means.” Zoro tapped repeatedly on Perona’s letter. The recipe was already creased and dirty. “I know she taught it to me as I remember almost making a scarf before, so I must have learnt it.” Zoro’s eyes were red. Barely blinking as he stared down at his project. 

Telling him to take a break would do nothing. Neck aching at sleeping at such an awkward angle, Sanji thought about goading him to fight—take his mind off it, but unsure how to insult him without insulting him, Sanji sighed and tugged at the bracelet. How long was this going to go on? 

The answer was seemingly indefinitely. 

Over the next week, the sofa in the galley gained a layer of dust. Luffy had to stretch an arm up and rap on the library window to clue Zoro in that dinner was about to be served. Only the library would work for his crochet, apparently. It was where the light was the strongest, not that it made a difference on the quality of what he produced. 

To his slight appeasement Zoro did seek him out when he’d given up for the day. Under nightfall at the back of the bow, Sanji would have his usual smoke and instead of getting lost in the sound of the waves, his muscles unwinding and thoughts clearing, Zoro would appear like a bad smell. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be around Zoro, he certainly did, but his night-time smoke was precious. He'd be on edge trying to entertain him and make up for a day spent almost completely apart whilst also feeling guilty as the swordsman shivered like a Chihuahua next to him. Sanji wasn’t immune to the cold but made up of northern genes, cold was in his blood in complete contrast to Zoro, who was from the tropics in the east and was quick to turn into shivering, pitiful goo, no matter how much he insisted it was all a mental state. 

Trying to be more supportive, Sanji held up the crochet triangle Zoro handed to him. Sliding his cigarette into his other hand to avoid burning the thing to ash. The stitches were even. He might even have used the word- Neat. “You did something.” He held it up to one of the lanterns. 

After asking Zoro to repeat what he’d mumbled under his breath, he huffed louder,  “I don’t understand what I’m doing wrong, it's supposed to be a square.”

“Why would a hat be a square? Oh. you could attach two triangles together, then it would be a square.”

Zoro’s face lit up. “Ain’t just a pretty face, Cook. Yeah, I’ll try that.”

Sanji smiled around his cigarette. Maybe his alone time being invaded wasn’t the worst thing in the world. Zoro slid closer, bare arm pressing into his clothed one to try and absorb some of his heat.

And so the first hat was born. Born the way most things were, bathed in sweat and blood from where Zoro had pricked himself with the tiny needle to sew his triangles together.  

Zoro sheepishly handed it to him. "I know you like blue."

Sanji’s blue eyes stared straight ahead into grey, trying not to twitch. What could loosely be termed a hat was pinched between his finger tips. Although clearly skilled at crotchet, Zoro was less so at stitches, using Usoop’s wire he used for the sailcloth, that pulled everything inwards towards the centre, black stitches stark against the blue of the… hat. 

Taking a very deep breath. Sanji slowly brought the hat up to his head. Eyes unfocused as he pulled it on and flattened all his hair to his face. Unfortunately he was an expert at seeing through his hair and In the reflection of the window he saw a smeared image of himself.

Oh god.

He looked like a wizard.

Evidently just as uncertain as Sanji that he had in fact created a hat, Zoro continued his creations. Maybe Sanji should have smiled more and un-gritted his teeth as the library soon became akin to Frankenstein's lab, and soon most of the crew had their own… hat.

All cast offs; Nami had the one with the hole at the top so she could pull her ponytail through. Chopper had the one that came out very small. Usopp had a one that he tied together into a bandana, Robin had a very tall one she used to carry books in, Luffy had a wide one he stretched even further to put over his straw hat and when full of anger Zoro launched one out the window that then landed in bright blue paint, Franky had his. 

-

A snowflake drifted back and forth in the light breeze, twirling in the hazy sunbeams radiating down through the gaps in the heavy, grey clouds. A sizzle came from the end of Sanji’s cigarette. Snowflake bursting into smoke.

Sanji frowned down at his now damp cigarette before slowly staring up at the sky.

As if being summoned by his notice, snow tapped away at his head and shoulders. He stepped back through the door of the galley. Unprepared for the weather in just a thin dress shirt.

“All on deck! I can see you hiding Usopp! We need to adjust the sails before we’re blown of course.” Nami shouted from the window of the girls' dorm. 

“Coming Nami- swan!”

The wind had picked up, rushing past Sanji’s ears like sandpaper. He raised his shoulders around his head, frowning. He stared back into the kitchen, bouncing on his toes. “Ah fuck it.” He grabbed the blue cone hat that he’d stuffed into his odds and ends draw and waded out into the storm.

The thick wool wrapped around his head was remarkably warm. And although he was aware it was sticking straight up like a pyramid was balanced on his head, he soon forgot as snow attacked his eyes and his hands became full of coarse rope. 

Pressure on the rope, a hand joined his.

“About time.” He barked, leaning back to obey Nami’s shouted orders he could just about hear. Despite standing just behind him Zoro’s response was lost to the whistling wind.

“Huh?”  

“I-.uhh-emm-had it” Was all Sanji could make out. 

Sanji's exposed arms were turning red, a layer of goose flesh rippling across his skin. “Talk later!” 

“What?!”

Sanji sneered. Yanking the rope to make the entire sail spin.

-

“I thought I almost had the recipe.” Zoro said, now inside the warm kitchen. Sanji shoved a towel over his green hair and tried to squeeze the water out.

“The hat? Is it more circular now?” With a plop Sanji dropped the wet towel onto the floor.

“Well…no, but if I lose stitches at the end it looks like it could close into something more circular. You’re wearing the hat.” 

Blue eyes went up as if he could somehow see what Zoro did. He hated how high Zoro’s eyes went; How much fabric was on his head. “Oh, yeah. It was cold.” 

“It…helped?” 

Sanji eyed him. Raising a hand up high to touch the now damp fabric atop his head. “It’s warm.” 

Zoro was trying to hide his face from him. When Sanji bent to catch his eye, he realised Zoro was smiling. Instinctively he thought he was being laughed at and yanked the hat off, yet when Zoro looked up at the movement, Sanji saw it was in earnest – a high level of endearment soaked through his expression. 

Zoro likes that I like it. 

From then on, he made more of an effort to wear it, mostly at night where nobody could see it, smoking at the back of the boat- Just for Zoro’s sake, not because he’d changed his opinion about the triangle hat. Still ridiculous; It messed up his hair and gave him a headache every time he pulled it on by being slightly too tight. Yet none of that seemed to matter when Zoro would see he had it on and beam.

His boyfriend’s dumb smile was the reason he was walking through a village being laughed at. Dirt flew up as he stomped along the path. Hands deep in his pockets and back hunched like it was broken. 

“No my hat doesn't get me better den-den reception.” He mumbled and kicked at some stones. Keeping his hands fisted in his pocket rather than ripping the ugly thing off his head. Zoro was lost somewhere on the island but Sanji was scared he’d turn up just as he was hurling it into the ocean. 

“Where did you get that dud? You need a refund.” 

“Pardon.” Temper restrained by the older person's apparent female gender, he creased his eyebrows. He had no idea what the person had meant but it was a very safe bet that it had something to do with his hat.

“The thing wrapped around your head.” Of course “I’ve seen houses with less structure. If you want something prettier I have plenty of options for better hats. Hell, for you, I have a deal, two hats for 20 berries and four for 35 berries, if you want 10 hats- Hell, I’ll sell you 10 for 170 berries!” 

She was jumping around, motioning down at the brightly coloured wool hats thrown across her stall.

Sanji took a deep breath. “I’m alright, thanks.” 

“Try one on. Come on, slip that ugly thing off, I promise you that you’ve never felt softer.”

His hand went to his own hat, having to reach up high to grip the top. “I said I’m alright.” He felt a stab of fear that it would be forced off him-for Zoro’s sake, how would Zoro feel if he lost it to this clearly manic woman. Zoro had spent all that time on it. 

The woman waved her hand in a shoo motion. “Alright, fine. You can’t buy taste. Hell, was it crocheted in the dark?” 

Dirt slid over his shoes as he twisted quickly, taking the only action he could given the circumstances and stomping away. Who did she think she was?  Just because she could crotchet other shapes than triangles didn’t mean she had any right to judge-

She could crotchet other shapes then triangles. 

He sped back. Arms pumping by his side. 

The older woman behind the crochet hat stand had her arms crossed. Wispy grey facial hair stuck straight into the air as she pushed her chin out.

“Mademoiselle, I seek your wisdom.” He dropped onto one knee, hand going to his chest. 

“My wife says I am two pennies short of a pound,” She said leaning forwards to watch him.

“No, to create such wonders, you must be-.” Completely unaware of what must be their second regional currency he spluttered, “Eight pounds!” 

Her chin got higher.

“My uh- boyfriend made me this hat.” He reached up and slid it off his head, feeling his hair fall back down to earth in the shape of a bird nest. “He was given a recipe to make a square, but instead he made a triangle.”

After a tense second she leant forwards and examined the hat. A finger stretched out and ran along the stitches in the centre. Sanji felt a surge of protectiveness.

 “First you want to sew with a crochet needle, not a sewing one, it's thicker see?” She pulled out a needle that looked comically large on her small palm. “And you need to use the same colour wool-well, unless it's supposed to be…punk.” Sanji shook his head. No, Zoro was just an idiot. “So the reason it's going in, look, is because your man is missing the turning stitch, alotta patterns don’t even write them in anymore, they just assume you’ll know to do it.”

Sanji patted his empty pockets. He’d left his notepad on the boat. “What's a turning stitch?”

The woman signed dramatically. “I’m a tired old woman. I spend all day crocheting, hoping some nice gentle human will throw me a few pounds or berries for my art.” She took a deep breath and then stared up at him, fingers clenched in front of her heart.

“No,” He said firmly. Hat squeezed in his grip protectively. “I told you, I already have a hat.” It felt slightly like he’d be cheating if he purchased one of her hats. 

“Well, I’ve never done a turning stitch in my life and I can’t help you.” Head spinning to the next person walking down the street, she began to shout, “Hats! Hats! Oi, your head looks cold, Baldy.”

“I told you, I can’t buy a hat!” Sanji pulled out the lining off his pockets, dropping whatever he had on him onto her stand. “But, what does one cost?” 

“10 berries.” She then narrowed her eyes. “12 berries.”

“You just went up!” 

“26 berries!”

“Whatever. Here are 12 berries and you can keep the hat. Now tell me please wonderful woman, how to do a turning stitch.”

“You’re discarding my art, my hard work-.”

“I’m begging you.” His voice was high and drained. Knees ready to fall to the floor and beg. “Please!”

“Alright, alright, for the sake of your man, you do an extra chain at the end of the row.” 

“An extra chain of what?” He leant in. 

Her voice hurt his ears as she suddenly screamed “Hats! Hats get your noggin coverers over here!” 

She’d ensnared someone, a friendly looking woman coming over with her son. 

An extra chain. Would Zoro know what that meant? Taking this as a cue to leave, Sanji shoved his hat back on and sprinted back to the boat. “Add an extra chain, an extra chain at the end of the row. End row. Chain.” He chanted what he could remember over and over. 

At the speed he was going, his shoulder clipping a young man sent them flying. 

“Oi cone-head, get back here.” A group of boys were chasing him, faces speckled with acne and sweat. To their misfortune, the hat was acting as a disguise, stopping them from realizing cone-head or not, it was a very bad idea to fight Black Leg Sanji.

“Add an extra chain.” A man strode out in front, the glint of a knife visible in his hands. “It’s a turning stitch, you have to add an extra chain.” Sanji kicked, reducing his strength at the last second to only send the man flying into the wall and not through it, before jumping clear over another. 

-

“Zoro!” He screamed as he reached the boat.

 He was hit like a punch to the chest that the Marimo could be anywhere. The last he’d seen him he’d been on the island. “Shit.” With each second his memories were blurring, the woman’s words merging into one high pitched tone. “I need paper!” 

He tried to grab a fistful of hair and tug until the pain centred him, but he gripped soft wool instead. Comfort burst, rushing through him like a hot shower, sourced from the fluffy fibre in his grip that Zoro had weaved together for him.

“Sanji, Zoro’s in the library!” Chopper’s head was stuck out the window of the infirmary. Even from here Sanji could see his eyebrows pointed down in concern. “Are you okay, Sanji?!” 

“Thanks Chop!” 

“You didn’t answer my ques-!” Chopper was cut off as Sanji launched himself up the stairs. 

Hunched over his project, Zoro’s hook was moving quickly and skillfully. Face filled with concentration. Sanji’s smile fell off his face. He halted, paused in the doorway with one foot half inside. 

Did it matter that Zoro could only make triangles? It certainly to his great surprise did not matter to him. Would this be like telling Luffy where the one piece was? Taking the fun away like pulling the rug out from under him. 

Sanji’s world slowed, narrowed down to Zoro in front, twisting the hook quickly around the wool. 

Okay! Okay, he loved his stupid, ugly hat. Admittedly it was the worst shape a hat could be, but Zoro’s time and energy had gone into it in a show of visible care. Fuck, he loved it so much he’d willingly wear it every day, in all weather and in all company. It made him feel cared for, a reminder that someone thought he was worth something. 

The door creaked, his hand had applied too much pressure. 

 “Oh, Cook, I thought of something to try.” Zoro’s grey eyes were visibly dry and irritated. He put down the hook and opened and closed his fist, as if stiff. “Didn’t work.” 

Decision made, and after apologising to his beloved wizard hat, Sanji threw open the door.

In such a rush he couldn’t judge the distance and ended up between Zoro and the table, in between Zoro’s legs and looming over him. Zoro’s hands slipped around his waist. Staring up at him in interest and a little bit of worry. Zoro’s thumb snuck under his shirt.

Sanji’s hands flapped back and forth to try and mime something he had no idea how to explain. He cleared his throat. “There was a woman who sold hats-.”

Zoro’s eyes went up to the one he was still wearing 

“I didn’t buy one! I wouldn’t- I said no but she knew what your issue was so I paid her and she told me what you're doing wrong, why it always comes out in a triangle.”

Zoro’s chair skidded back as he stood. “What did she tell you!?” 

“I’m thinking! God, give me some space.” Sanji paced. Zoro’s hand dropped from his waist. Watching him closely. “Chain. Something about a chain or no, a stitch?” Sanji murmured to himself. 

“Chain, I know how to do a chain.” Zoro followed a step behind as he walked back and forth. “It was how I made you that bracelet.”

The bracelet he kept under his pillow. 

Sanji squeezed the sides of his hat covered head. He turned to go back and then stared down at his feet, eyes wide. “You need to turn!” 

“Cook, you’re not making any sense!” 

“It's a turning thing! You do an extra chain at the end of the row, or wait maybe the start, wait does that even make a difference?” 

“Yes!” 

“The end then.” Sanji decided, eyes squeezed shut as he tried to place himself back in the street. Annoyingly the only thing he could remember the exact phrasing of was the insults regarding his hat. 

Realising Zoro had grabbed his wool, Sanji wedged his chin over Zoro’s shoulder and watched him unfurl the triangle to start again from the first row. As he reached the end of the row he gave Sanji a look before twisting the wool through again. “Huh.”

“Yes!?” Sanji had no idea what he was looking at. 

“Wait.” Zoro ordered, continuing down the row in quick neat stitches. It was after the third row when he held it up that they both saw the stitches were going straight up. They had done it. It would become a square!!

Suddenly Sanji was being spun and roughly kissed on his triangle hat covered forehead. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Zoro spoke into the fabric. Before moving his head and connecting their lips.

Sanji laughed, shoving himself back enough to put his feet on the floor but not enough to be free from Zoro’s grip. His skin tingled. Heart racing. “Thank the mad old women!” 

“Shall I go kiss her then?”

“Considering she has the same amount of chin hair as me, you may not feel a difference.” Some of the irritation for her and their interaction was starting to lift. Thank you mad lady. He placed his hands on Zoro’s chest to create some space.  “I didn’t ruin this did I? I thought you might have wanted to find the solution on your own, you know, like how Luffy wants to find the One piece without anyone telling him where it is.” Sanji’s words trailed off, noting every one of Zoro’s micro-expressions. 

“No,” Zoro laughed. “Idiot, this isn’t my dream.” He held up his crochet. “I just wanted to make it so when I see Perona I can tell her I made it. I don’t care if I get help. In fact, I like that it’ll now have a bit of both of us in it.” 

“Yeah?” 

“It's coming back to me now, I think Perona told me about the turning stitch, I just thought it would be written down on the recipe.” 

Sanji smiled. “Not to insult a goddess such as herself but yeah it should have been added, especially considering your capability.” 

“Shut up.” 

“What, no more kisses.” 

Thus the first hat was born. The pattern followed to the last stitch. With little fanfare, Zoro pulled it on and turned to him. “It still doesn't feel right.”

A laugh ripped through Sanji’s lips. He’d been prepared to nod and smile, yet his boyfriend had turned around with cat ears on. Sanji held a hand to his chest to try and control himself. “Uh, Zoro. You know you said Perona’s taste was rather-cutesy. Well, uh, I think she’d given you the recipe for hats with cat ears.” 

Zoro appeared to be thinking, eyes flicking around before he frowned and stomped over to the bathroom mirror. He pawed at one of the ears making Sanji laugh so hard his knees hit the floor. 

-

Light even footsteps stuttered to a stop.

Sanji looked up from the dishes towards Zoro's figure, frozen in the centre of the Galley. He struggled to keep the smile from bursting through his performative frown and forced himself to stare back down at the dishes he was washing.

“What's this?” Zoro asked.

The footsteps restarted and then a soft woosh was audible before a butter yellow light burst through the room. The contrast from how it had been before made Sanji feel like he’d been stood in the dark.

“Franky had a spare lamp hanging round.” Sanji shrugged. “I suppose you’ll be able to crochet in here now.” 

Hands landed on his back and wrapped around his waist, drawn back into a firm chest. A chin landed on his shoulder. 

“Good it was just laying around.” Zoro said with humour in his voice. Hot breath puffed across his neck. “That was very kind…of Franky.”

“Yes, it was.” Sanji smiled, shaking the plate he was washing and placing it on the rack. Zoro moved aside and a burst of affection rushed through Sanji at the thought that Zoro was going to help him dry.

Zoro didn’t pick up the tea towel and instead pulled something from his green coat pocket. 

Sanji scowled. “You could help me-.”  

“Got you something.” Zoro cut him off. There in his hands was a burgundy hat. Recognisable as a hat. Sanji rubbed his hands dry on the tea towel, and reached for it. Marveling at its circular nature. “I’m going to undo all the other ones and redo them this way. I can’t believe everyone’s still wearing the old ones.” 

Sanji had seen Nami that morning drawing maps on the deck with her hat on. Hair hanging out the top. 

“Don’t you dare.” Sanji snapped. Eyes going to his blue hat hanging pride of place on a hook by the kitchen door. “You gave it to me. It’s mine.”

“Cook, You don’t have to be nice, I know it’s-.”

“Shut up. When have you known me to spare your feelings?”

“I mean… Recently I’ve felt like you’ve been nicer.”

Sanji blinked. “I’m trying not to be as much of an asshole to you, I know you’re doing the same.” Sanji swallowed. “Although it's ugly, it’s my hat and I like it.” 

“You don’t make any sense.” 

“Fuck you.” Sanji said and kissed him. “I’ll wear this one for fancy occasions and my blue one for casual” 

And if sometimes the triangle one was also worn for fancy occasions, nobody called him out on it. Zoro certainly paid him more attention. The smile he wore when he saw Sanji wearing it hadn't changed. 

Fuck, he loved him.

P.S Zoro's hat for reference- - you legit crotchet a square.