GENRE: fluff !
WARNINGS: none
NOTES: none

__________

Charle's ushered you into a common room in the mansion, introducing you to the last member of the First Class team.

Sean was laying with his face buried in a Captain America comic book, legs lazily lying across the entire brown leather couch he was on.

"Good afternoon, Sean." Charles remarked in order to get his attention.

"Hey, man." He replied with too much enthusiasm, but at the same time, still kept his eyes on his flimsy biographical comic book.

At that, you let out a chuckle. From the angle your were at, you could only see the top of his red hair, and his pale arms that had their flannel sleeves rolled up to the elbow.

The sound of your laugh definitely caught his attention. He quickly moved the object in his hands from his line of vision, peering over at you with wide and curious eyes.

Upon seeing his face, you realised he was actually quite cute - with freckled and pink cheeks, and intense blue eyes that you could see, even from a few feet away.

"(Y/n), this is Sean. Sean, this is (Y/n). Sean is a banshee." Charles explained, and when he saw the quizzical expression you held, he started to open his mouth to explain.

But he was cut off by the redhead himself, who had sat up on his claimed couch. "I basically just scream super loud in different ways." He shrugged like it was nothing, meaning for it to sound as strange as it did when he explained. "I can fly and stuff." He elaborated, standing from his place.

"Oh, well, can you talk to whales?" You asked, literally actually wondering.

He seemed amused by your question, a warm smile spreading across his face as he shook his head, loose ginger curls falling slightly in his face. "I don't know. I've actually never tried."

__________

It was official that after a few weeks of staying in the mansion with the other mutants, that you were in love with Sean's hair. Not him; his hair.

It was just so pretty, always messy but somehow cute anyways - and such a unique colour of curls, which kind of bounced when he walked. You just wanted so desperately to run your hands through it.

"(Y/n)?" Someone asked, breaking you out of your reverie you'd formed. Pretty quickly you began to realise that it was Sean who had spoken, and that you had been looking at him and his hair the whole time you had zoned out. "Are you staring at me?" He asked in a mild state of disbelief, not loud enough for the other people in the room to hear (which you were grateful for).

You blushed slightly as you scoffed, trying to look as indifferent as you could in the situation, in a effort to brush it all off. "No, of course not. Don't flatter yourself, Sean." You replied, looking down at the cushion of the leather couch you were sitting on - the same one he had been laying on the day you first met him.

He paused, thoughts all tumbling in his head, before his features began to light up. "You were!" He exclaimed, now catching the attention of the rest of the room.

You swallowed nothing, avoiding looking at the rest of the mutants on the off, minuscule chance that they thought you hadn't seen them, and that they'd look away. No such luck. You had to come up with another strategy, and that strategy just so happened to be playful deflection of the situation via deprecative comedy at the loss of Sean.

"Shut up, Molly Wringwald." You retorted at Sean sarcastically, making everyone in the room bust out laughing.

His face began to flush lightly, his skin turning more red than it usually was. But he still held a smile on his cheeks that made you bite the inside of your mouth in the hopes of getting the butterflies in your stomach to go away.

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever." He rolled his eyes, brushing your insult off - because he knew that, deep down, you actually had feelings for him; even if they were small right then. Even if you were just admiring his hair, or his face, or his eyes, or whatever. He knew, and that's what counted. No amount of you denying it could change that.

You weren't sure what to feel at his reply, simply concluding that you were somewhere between wanting to kiss him, and wanting to slap his pretty little freckles off of his cheeks.

__________

"Hey." Sean greeted as he sat next to you on the wooden bench, easily a meter away from you. His eyes were twinkling like they always did - there was always something about Sean that was so alive.

You looked over at him and his presence, before forming a small smile involuntarily. "Hey." You replied back softly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear in a way that you didn't know made Sean's heart sing. "What's up?"

"Not much." He admitted, shifting in his seat slightly, before looking up at you. A smile spread across his face slowly, too. He couldn't seem to help it around you. "I, uh... I actually wanted to talk to you about something."

"Okay..." You trailed off because of his strange behaviour. One of Sean's many qualities was that he tended to blurt whatever stupid thing that was on his brain, out loud. It was both a virtue, and a vice at times. "What is it?"

"Just something I heard from Charles."

You didn't think much of it, because Charles was a good friend of everyone at the house, and was informing everyone of random things and talking to them. You didn't seem to think of the obvious: Charles could read people's minds (and more specifically, yours).

"He said that you had a crush on me." Sean spoke finally, and your eyes widened in shock at both his words, and his odd sort of nonchalance.

You wanted to dig a hole in the grass, crawl into it, and die.

"Why would he say that?" You coughed nervously into your hand, trying to play off his (completely correct) accusation that'd caused your cheeks to tint pink. You couldn't believe that Charles sold you out like that. You made a mental note to yell at him later, despite how much you loved him.

"That's what I've come to ask you." Sean admitted.

You looked away from his pretty blue eyes, chewing on your cheek. If Charles had told him, then it was basically confirmed in every way and form. There was no point denying it. But still: you were embarrassed, and didn't want to give Sean the satisfaction of you liking him.

"I... I guess I do. But it's not sixth grade. I don't have a crush on you." You shook your head slightly, still not looking at the man who was shifting across the bench and over to you.

Sean's hand was gingerly placed on your leg, squeezing reassuringly. "That's cool. Then what would you call it?" His stomach couldn't help but flutter at your flushed state. He couldn't believe it was true. How'd he ever trick someone as beautiful as you to fall for someone like him?

You thought for a moment, and sighed, before looking up at the freckled face of your counterpart. "I have a lot of feelings for you. It's all pretty messy." You spoke truthfully.

"If it counts for anything... I'm messy too." He replied, causing you to crack a smile, laughing slightly at his words. His warm hand moved from your leg, to curl into your palm gently. "And I like you too, I guess."

You didn't know what to say. Instead, you looked down at your joined hands, trying to hide the heat on your face and neck. You were acting like you and Sean weren't two totally (okay, hardly) respectable adults. You shouldn't be acting like this.

But then again, Sean seemed to always be making you do things, think things, and say things out of the ordinary. You weren't sure why, or what it was about him that made you do it; but in the end, you just did.

Another thing you usually wouldn't have done, was go in for a kiss. But there you were, pressing your lips to Sean's soft pink ones. He nearly didn't kiss back, but immediately melted into it when he felt you fingers twist into his hair. The curly red hair that you'd wanted to feel since the moment you saw him.

When you pulled away, his smile shone from ear-to-ear. "I'm such a dork. How did I ever get a girl like you?" His cheeks were a faint pink colour.

You simply beamed in reply, going in for another kiss, where you could feel his smile on your lips.