Disclaimer: Don't own Avatar: The Last Airbender. Only my silly plots and words.

Warning: Slight Aang!Angst but not too bad and a couple non-kid friendly words.

Summary: Why else would Katara want someone besides Aang? It had to be the hair. Implied Zutara and one-sided Kataang.

This is basically my explanation for Aang's hair in season three. Hopefully no one has thought of this already.

oOoOoOo

What did he have to do to get her to look at him? He swiped his hands at his brow, further tousling his already tangled mop of hair. He'd never had need to comb or brush or groom anything north of his eyebrows (or really any part of his body for that matter), and was continually frustrated to find that no matter what he did his mussed tresses never came close to looking the same as the man who she had now given her love.

He could still remember how sweet it had been to wake up to her concerned eyes, feel her hands grazing his skin, knowing that she would make all his pain disappear with the flick of her wrist.

And now he watched her take that same care with another. The man had come stumbling into their lives begging, yes begging, for forgiveness. Even after all this time and all they had gone through together the man had yet to reveal just what had brought him to their camp site that evening; or what had him screaming and shaking down to his very bones every night.

In the end, it didn't matter. She had run to the man and cradled his head as he fell. She fussed over him day and night. When the final battle had come to a brutal close, it was the man she had run to. She ran her fingers through his damn perfect hair.

So here he was, a year later, with a mess of his own hoping that she would grant him the same touch she granted that man; but she never did. And, he thought bitterly, he was starting to doubt that she ever would. It was so tangled and dirty that even if a hand could make it through he wouldn't want her to sully her precious ones in it.

Not to mention what he saw when she looked at them. She looked at him like she looked at her brother. She looked at the man like she looked at the ocean.

So, even though he cursed the flop of hair now covering his mark of power, he continued to try and rake his finger through it to form some passing resemblance to the man's tresses; because that was the only possible reason she could look at them so differently. It was because women loved shaggy-mussed-in your eyes hair. It wasn't their age, it wasn't their family bond, it wasn't their personalities or the comfort and safety and devotion he saw the man give her. No. It was the hair. It had to be.

oOoOoOoOo

A/N: I know it's been a while, but I finally got a full-time job and just when I was ready to start writing again that season three trailer from comic-con made me too depressed. Why do all my 'ships fail? If you want to see it go to: avatarspirit dot net. Please don't ask me to tell you what happened in reviews…but please do review the drabble.