This was written for Hogwarts, where I am a Slytherin (hiss hiss): Assignment #5

Dark Charms, task #2: Ebulio: Write about an introvert.

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This is also for a lot of other things... All additional prompts are listed after the fic.

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Not going to lie... I'm not doing great. However, I have lovely people in my life. Honestly... Kim, Ari, Amber, and Elizabeth... I don't know what I'd do without you. Honestly, if it weren't for you, I wouldn't have written this, and I probably would still curled up crying under my blankets. It's weird saying this publicly, but I'm gonna. Because of you guys, I made myself eat, drink, and even leave my dorm (granted, I ended up crying outside of the library... but that's beside the point). You are incredible, and I love you dearly.

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Brief Summary: Dean absolutely loves autumn; Blaise loves Dean.

Warnings: Brief mention of war... very, very light graphic image... super light, really... not much of an image at all.

Rating: Which thing was below a T? I forgot... but it would be that.

Word Count (excluding A/N): 731

Paint Splatters

Autumn, frankly, was Dean's favorite season. Sure, summer was fun for swimming in various lakes, winter was good for cuddles and hot chocolate, and spring had a pretty color palette, but nothing was better than the quiet solitude of autumn.

He sat on a porch swing, a fuzzy blanket pooled around his waist as he painted the landscape in front of him. One of his favorite parts of autumn was the colors, and he found that capturing their beauty on a blank canvas was relaxing—dealing with paints and brushes was, quite honestly, much more enjoyable than dealing with most people.

"I always thought you were too introverted for a Gryffindor," a soft voice commented, startling Dean out of his concentration. The Gryffindor stared down at the paintbrush that had fallen out of his hand, grimacing at the way the maroon paint had been splattered so pointlessly on the white-painted porch—it almost looked like blood, but Dean didn't want to think about that. The memories from the war were just too fresh.

"And I always found you to be too soft," Dean said, straightening up and twisting his torso to look at his boyfriend. Blaise was wearing his usual smirk as he leaned up against the doorframe that led into a comfortable sitting room. "For a Slytherin."

The pair of them were staying at Dean's mother's country home; it had been a safe haven for them during the war—Dean had been running from the ministry, and Blaise had been running from Voldemort—and it was still a safe haven for them now. The only difference now was that they weren't running for their lives, but were just hiding from society as a whole. They had each other, and that was all that mattered.

"You're going to catch a cold, letting your blanket fall down like that," Blaise scolded playfully, his smirk ever present. Dean almost wanted to slap that expression off of his boyfriend, but he also felt a strong desire to kiss him.

Instead, he let out a loud sneeze, his eyes widening in surprise before closing at the force of air leaving his body.

"I told you," Blaise said blandly, leaving his post by the doorframe and walking over to Dean, pulling a scarf out of the pocket of his long coat. Dean rolled his eyes but still allowed Blaise to wrap it carefully around his neck. "If you aren't careful, you will die a stupid, avoidable death."

"You wish," Dean shot back, his eyes bright as he let himself relax into the warmth the scarf brought. "That way, you could find someone who doesn't spend all of his time painting."

Blaise snorted before bending down to pick up the fallen paintbrush. Dean noticed how Blaise muttered a soft, wandless spell under his breath, and he stretched his head so he could see if his boyfriend had cleaned up the paint splatters.

A small smile made its way to his lips when he saw that Blaise hadn't cleaned the splatters up, but had made them form a small bouquet of painted flowers—he loved how creative his boyfriend was.

"What a typical Gryffindor thing to say," Blaise said, handing the brush back to Dean before sitting down beside him on the porch swing.

"I thought I was too much of an introvert to be a Gryffindor," Dean challenged, turning away from Blaise and back to his painting, wanting to finish the piece of art before it got too dark.

"Oh shush. Don't go using my past words against me." Blaise leaned his head gently on Dean's shoulder; Dean could practically feel the steady beat of his boyfriend's heart. "But I'm serious, Dean. No one can replace you."

Another smile tugged at Dean's lips, but he still kept his eyes on his artwork. "You must be in denial, love," Dean said softly. "There are better people out there in the world. I'm just one of many."

"Ah. I best pack my bags then, yeah?" Blaise joked. From the tone of his voice, Dean figured he must be rolling his eyes. He would have ignored the comment and continued painting as he was, but he felt a soft hand pulling at his cheek, making him look at Blaise.

"I love you, and you only," Blaise said softly as he leaned in, pressing a short and warm kiss to Dean's lips. "Paint splatters and all."

A/N 2.0

Seasonal Challenge:

- October 4th 2018 - National Golf Day: Write about something that relaxes a character.

- Autumn Challenge: (object) Scarf

- Color: Maroon

- Birthstone: Lapis Lazuli - (dialogue) "No one can replace you."

- Flower: Helenium - (word) Sneeze

- Air Element: (object) Coat

- Audrey's Dessert (Frosting): Fudge: "You wish."

- Ravenclaw Themed: (Trait) Creative

- Astronomy Prompt: (Word) Beauty

September Writing Club:

- Sophie's Shelf #13: Dean/Blaise

- Showtime #8: (word) Denial

Slash September: Dean