Description: Even Sokka gets lonely sometimes.
Young love left no room for a third wheel. He was the silent observer of their blooming relationship, of their trials and tribulations, the ever-present supporting character in their romance. He didn't mind much – he may have been irritated by the warm hand of her stern motherliness and his perpetual smile, but in a few – a few – aspects, he was still the older sibling, and he understood not to interfere.
But sometimes he found himself longing for a comrade – someone to laugh at his jokes (because a man needs some recognition), someone to duel with, someone to roll in the mud with. And she joined their motley crew, eventually. The sarcasm rolled off her tongue like the earth moved beneath her feet. He laughed heartily with her, but found that he could no longer pretend she was a boy when she scooted closer to him when the winds taunted them in the evenings. But he was content with things in general, and squashed the longing for a slightly hairier friend in the back of his mind – he didn't have time for friends when the sun vanished.
It was a shock when the embittered old firejerk joined them. Upon the years of struggle epitomized by his scar, he hadn't thought they would get along at all. He was a self-conscious teenager, a moaner, a worrier – a brother.