A/N: This song reminds me of Mark so much. Also, fun fact, I'm 25% Irish. P.S. The "Max" referenced later in the story is Maxmoefoe.

A non-Irishman teaching Irish culture and history was such an absurd concept to Sean, that he would drop the class immedantly if it were the case. It was the only class offered at the University of California in Los Angeles that Sean and his fellow Irish natives felt culturally accepted. So to say the least, it was his favorite course.

Every Thursday morning, in the state that ever sees a sad day, Sean wakes up at 6:45 on the dot. Then, he gets prepared for the day and goes to his favorite campus coffee shop. There, he orders a medium ice carmel coffee with cream and sugar. (He's basic, I know.) After his morning coffee, he orders a blueberry muffin from the bakery that's about five minutes away from his class before heading there.

It's been this way for the past year and a half; and Sean wouldn't change it for the world.

✿

Unlike Wednesday's beautiful clear skies and glorious weather, Thursday's morning was cold and gloomy. Sean did not wake up to the sound of his alarm, which was "Addict With a Pen" by Twenty Øne Pilots, but to the sound of pitter patter on his small dorm window.

The Irishman groaned as he reached for his large iPhone, pressing the home button to check the time.

8:37 am

"Oh shit!" Sean yelled as he threw off the blanket that covered the lower half of his body. He shot up from his bed and ran to the other side of the room to his small closet. The green haired man frantically rammaged through his clothes, settling on a black tee shirt, gray jogging pants, a gray hoodie, and some ratty old black vans.

Content with his makeshift outfit, Sean grabbed his clothes, toothbrush, tooth paste, phone, and book bag before leaving his dorm.

As he carried all of his belonging in his arms, Sean rushed down the hall of bare dormitories to the floor's bathroom. He dumped everything on the floor next to the sink and stripped, quickly jumping in the shower.

Once clean, Sean dried himself off and threw on his clothes. He finished the rest of his hygenic duties with such speed and left the bathroom, backpack on and sleepwear in hand. Rushing through the halls once more, the Irishman unlocked his dorm and place his clothes in there designated area. Scanning the room for any left belonging, Sean grabbed his wallet and left for class.

✿

Sean ran across the wet, muddy, and slippy courtyard to his class. The heavy rain penatrating his clothes.

Sean knew that Mr. O'Connor, his professor, was an understanding man. They have always had a good relationship, so he didn't really have nothing to worry about. This will be his first tardy, so O'Connor would just give him a slap on the wrist.

After what seemed like forever, the Irishman finally reached the Liberal Arts building. The sound of his wet shoes squeaking echoed through the quiet halls. Sean huffed in annoyance as he make his way to class.

As soon as Sean entered the room, all eyes were on him. He scanned the classroom for Mr. O'Connor, but he was nowhere in sight.

"Well, nice of you to join us on this stormy morning. You must be Sean McLoughlin?" A calm deep voice spoke in a soothing tone.

Sean tracked the voice and was met by a young, red haired, Asian man. He was taller than the Irish man, but barely by an inch. His physique was sturdy and muscular. His crisp white shirt tucked perfectly into his black creased slacks showed his professionalism and maturity. But, the black framed glasses that called his face home and his short stubble defined his youth.

The mystery gentleman smiled at Sean, waiting his answer.

Sean swallowed a slow forming lump in his throat as he stared at the beautiful person. "Y-yes... Who are you and where is Mr. O'Connor?" The Irishman asked, his voice somewhat small.

"Ah, yes. As I told the rest of the class, I am sorry to inform you Mr. O'Connor's wife has passed." The red haired man shook his head, showing his sympathy.

"While he is taking time to grieve, I shall be your new professor. I am Mark Fischbach, but please, call me Mark." Mark's smile never faded as he introduced himself.

'So, why are you taking over the class?" Sean questioned in an acrimonious manner.

Mark raised an eyebrow in confusion, watching Sean's expression change from one of awe, to one of annoyance.

"Why, I love Gaelic herit-"

"You're not Irish. O'Connor was. I'm pretty sure he wasn't the only professor in this God forsaken place with some sort of Irish background! They should be subbing for this class, not you." Sean cut Mark off in frustration.

All of the quiet side chatters of the rest of the class stopped. There was nothing but silence lingering as they watched the scene unfolding in front of them.

Mark's smile had long faded at this point. His welcoming expression changed to one of more seriousness.

"Mr. McLoughlin, I am surprised and affronted that a student as bright as yourself would even believe such a closed minded thing. I have heard so many good things about you, yet you certainly are not displaying them at this moment." Mark's voice was calm, yet stern, his gaze burning a hole into Sean's soul.

Mark opened his mouth as if he were about to continue his mini lecture, but quickly shut it as the sound of the intercom boomed through the room.

"Good morning, fellow Bruins." Ms. Blandizzi's, the Dean of Students, voice began to fill the room.

"It has come to our attention that the weather has only worsened since classes have begun. Therefore, all classes for the rest of the day have been canceled. Please, be safe and have a fulfilling day." With that, there was a click to indicate that the intercom was off.

The quiet classroom was soon filled with the sound of soft chatters and papers being put away.

Mark looked at Sean for a moment before his welcoming smile returned. "Mr. McLoughlin, you would not mind continuing this conversation once the other scholars have departed, would you?"

"Not at all, sir." Sean replied with a sign, lowering his head in shame.

He walked over to one of the newly empty seats in the front row. Sean threw his bag on the ground and sat down, slumping in the seat.

"What the hell was that all about, mate?" Max, one of Sean's friends, asked as he approached the Irishman.

"Everything about today sucks." Sean murmured.

"Aww, did the basic bitch forget his coffee this morning?" Max teased, nudging Sean's shoulder.

Sean responded with a huff as he watched Mark wish a student farewell and begin to walk towards the two young men.

"Don't be so hard on him. Mark's actually pretty cool." Max whispered, trying to reassure his friend. "Besides, he's only here for a week."

"Mr. Stanley, would you be so kind as to depart. Mr. McLoughlin and I must finish our conversation." Mark interjected as he stopped in front of the desk Sean sat at.

"Yes, sir." Max nodded at the professor and headed towards the door.

"Remember what I said, Jack." He called out as he left, closing the door behind him. Sean smiled at the nickname Max gave him their Freshmen year.

"So, Mr. McLough-"

"Sean." The Irishman corrected.

"Yes," Mark cleared his throat, "Sean."

He paused for a moment, thinking about the words he was about to say next.

"If you don't mind me asking, why were you so hostile?"

Sean looked up at the taller man from his seat, taking note of the seriousness that overtook his expression. Sean knew that he couldn't joke his way out of this situation.

With a sign, Sean answered his question. "Irish History & Culture is the only class in this God forsaken university that gives people like me a place that feels like home. It's like we're one big family, and Mr. O'Connor helped achieve that sense of unity. He is Irish, and he understands us on a personal level." Sean ran a hand through his damp green hair, as he sat up correctly in the chair.

The seriousness melted away from Mark, and a sympathetic look came across his face. The professor took his lower lip in between his teeth, mulling over what was said to him.

Sean watched his professor nibble on his own lip, admiring how attractive the educator was. He may not have been Irish, but Sean sure as hell had to admit that Mark was sexy.

When Mark finally conjured up a response for the young man, he turn his attention back to Sean, only to find him staring at Mark. Sean quickly looked away and began to frantically shake his leg.

"Mr. McLoug- I mean, Sean. I completely understand your concern  for the continuation of this unity yourself and your peers have established, but I can assure you that I will not change your class's tradition. I am simply here to fill in for Mr. O'Connor and educate you all on such a lovely heritage." Mark gave a smile at the end of his explanation.

"What do you know about this course?.. If you don't mind me asking." Sean questioned, curiosity lingering in his voice.

Mark let out a dry laugh as he removed his glasses to clean them on his tie.

"I don't mean to brag, but I once attended this lovely institution and received my Master's Degree in Cultural Studies with a minor in Mechanical Engineering." A proud smile crept onto Mark's face.

"In face, I am the Director of Culture. Considering my Korean and German background, I've always been involved with different customs and heritages." Mark explained, returning his glasses to his face.

Sean was dumbfounded. Not only did he insult the intelligence of someone who excelled in this course, but a Director? He was fucked for sure.

"I-I apologize for my outburst earlier. I was having a rough morning. It was totally uncalled for." Sean swallowed his pride and said. He looked down at his lap like a child that has done something wrong.

"All is well, young one." Mark reassured. "It's very common for one to be fervent about their culture. I, for one, love the Gaelic way. The traditions, the food, and that breathtaking accent." He chuckled to himself, taking his bottom lip between his teeth once more, as he stared off into space.

Sean's eyes went wide as he looked up at the professor. He cleared his throat, bringing Mark out of his daydream.

"So," Sean started, making himself sound more confident and his accent thicker, "What other aspects of our culture do you enjoy?"

Mark smirked at the Irishman's charm, deciding to play along with him. So, In the deepest and most seductive tone he could pull off, Mark leaned closer to Sean to answer his question. "The men."

When Mark uttered those two words, Sean felt his face drain of all color and his loose pants get extremely tight. He winced in pain at his sudden "problem" as it pressed against the under side of the desk.

"Um, s-sir?" Sean mumbled, covering his crotch with the bottom of his sweater to the best of his ability. His efforts became futile as Mark took notice of the tent in Sean's pants.

"Well, Mr. McLoughlin," Mark started, his voice still low and his tone still seductive, "it seems that you enjoy my choice of words." The red head smirked at the younger man.

"What are you on about?" Sean questioned, grabbing his book bag from the floor and using it to cover himself as he stood up from the cramped desk.

"I'm not on anything... Yet."

To be continued...