Author's note :

I actually had trouble to find a good, suitable idea for this prompt, because I had so many that I couldn't choose... And it turned out way longer than I first intended. But I guess it's still a drabble, as long as it doesn't go over 1k words, right? Ah, I fail so hard. e_e

Enjoy~!

ooo

"Why are you mad?"

Luffy was looking at Zoro, currently in his second series of six thousand lifts, with curiosity in his eyes.

"I'm not mad." The swordsman replied grumpily, before grunting irritatedly when his captain perched himself on his weights. "Get down."

"See?" Luffy said after climbing down. "You're mad."

"I'm not." Zoro sighed, laying his weights on the floor, knowing Luffy wouldn't leave him alone until he gave him his full attention. "It's just... Bah, whatever. I lost my bandana." He finally admitted grumpily.

He'd been searching for it the whole morning. He'd searched the depths of his locker in the men's cabin, as well as the growing pile of dirty clothes on the floor. He dug into the clean laundry basket, and even turned his bunk upside down, just in case the thing had gotten stuck in between the sheets. To no avail. The damn thing was still nowhere to be found.

The black bandana didn't have a sentimental value to him, not really. He could always get a new one next time they'd stop for restocking. But he had to admit he liked the color, actually closer to a very dark green that real, outright black. Also, since it would end up rubbing repeatedly against his forehead, drenched with sweat during fights, he'd rather use an old, worn one, rendered soft by repeated use, than a new, scratchy one.

"Oh." Luffy replied in a casual tone, after Zoro finally admitted the source of his irritation. "It's with Sanji."

"Huh?" Zoro replied, frowning, and thinking he didn't hear that right.

"Yeah. He's wearing it right now. He's in the galley, if you want it back."

Zoro felt aggravation rise in his blood. Obviously, he wanted it back. Right fucking now. And why would the shit-cook have his bandana, anyway? He stood up and grabbed his swords, before stomping towards the galley, fully intending to retrieve his possession. That, as well as teaching that asshole not to fool around with people's things.

When he opened the door, the room was unusually filled with steam. He could already feel small beads of moist forming on his already sweat-dampened skin. There was a bamboo steamer in a large wok, on the stove, and the cook was nowhere to be seen.

"Oi, shit-cook!"

"Hmm?"

The culprit was now raising from behind the counter, a second bamboo steamer, filled with dumplings, in his hand. He was wearing Zoro's bandana around his head, much to the swordsman's aggravation. He stomped towards the cook and teared the cloth from his head in a rather brutal motion. Which didn't really seem to please the other.

"What the fuck's wrong with you, shithead?" The cook shouted, clearly annoyed at Zoro's antics.

"Just taking what's mine back, dart-brow."

"Don't get your panties in a bunch, marimo." He scoffed, grinding his teeth, before switching a the bamboo steamer in the wok for the other one. "I just borrowed it for convenience's sake. Didn't want to sweat all over lunch."

"Use your own stuff." Zoro scowled, his tone leaving no room for protests.

"I don't have old rags that I can use, you shitty swordsman."

"Whatever." And with that last retort, Zoro left the galley.

He stomped towards the stern. He felt like getting some fresh air, after the stifling atmosphere in the galley.

He breathed deeply, and looked at the bandana in his hand. It was damp – steam, and most likely the cook' sweat as well. Zoro wasn't the kind of guy who'd get grossed out by bodily smells, unless they were too strong, even for his own unrefined tastes, but he reckoned that maybe, he should wash it. He raised the small piece of cloth and sniffed it suspiciously.

As he expected, the thing smelled like food – dumplings. Cigarette smoke. There was also a hint of vanilla – Sanji's shampoo, maybe – as well as the cook's perfume – jasmine and bergamot. And sweat, too, that slightly pungent smell that Zoro didn't find that unpleasant.

The overall result wasn't that bad, and was so precisely the cook's smell – food, smoke, perfume and Sanji himself – that Zoro could almost imagine he was there, if he closed his eyes.

Maybe the bandana didn't need to get washed, after all.

ooo

"During the story, a character finds an item they considered lost."