The Opening Salvos Of The Great McKinley Accessory War

Author's Note: Haven't seen the first two episodes of season three? Don't want to be spoiled? Then oh, you need to not be here, I am sorry! A very wee ficlet drabbly sort of ridiculous humor thing based on the fact that I am an old curmudgeon who is kind of not on board with bowties and suspenders being worn at the same time, Blaine looks like a fifty year old from the neck down. I know I am in the deep minority. I wrote this anyway. It has also been seen on my Tumblr (glass-parade).

"Hand it over, Blaine."

He reached up to his neck and clutched protectively at the bowtie knotted there. "No way."

For someone so tiny, Rachel Berry could be absolutely terrifying, Blaine realized. Like now, for example, standing over him with her hands on her hips and fire in her eyes. Though it probably didn't help that he was sitting down.

So he scrambled to his feet. "This is 100 percent raw silk, Rachel. And before you accuse me of sentimentality, no, Kurt did not give it to me. I bought it myself."

"Good. So it should be easier for you to let it go. No strings attached!" She beamed winningly. "Come on, Blaine. This is for your own good."

He gaped at her. "How is destroying part of my wardrobe for my own good, exactly?"

"Because your bowties are like my knee socks were before you so helpfully did laundry and washed my entire collection with half a bottle of bleach." Her smile disappeared as quickly as it had shown up, replaced with a genuinely terrifying glare that let him know she knew that had been deliberate. "Outdated and slightly ridiculous. Your potential as a leading man of stage and screen is undeniable, Blaine. You should dress to match."

"I like how I dress. Kurt likes how I dress," he protested.

"Kurt likes your everything," Rachel pointed out with a truly epic eyeroll. "I think you could show up in your Dalton uniform every day and he wouldn't say a word because it was on you." Tilting her head, she pressed a finger to her cheek and looked speculative. "Actually, I'm quite disappointed in him. I truly thought with his eye for fashion that even love couldn't make him turn a blind eye. I was wrong."

Blaine had still not removed his hand from the bowtie. "I don't care what you say, Rachel. The answer is no. I'm not going to allow you to incinerate my bowties! It's not happening. Give up. They're in."

"You look like the love child of Steve Urkel and Ralph Lauren," was her only response as she crossed her arms and attempted to stare him down. "Which reminds me. The suspenders too, Blaine."

"No! Rachel, I can dress myself."

"Let me help you," she begged. "I've made peace with the loss of the knee socks. Between you and Kurt and the help you've given me, I've never looked better. Granted, Finn is slightly disappointed that my forays into vintage fashion mean my skirts aren't quite as short, but I've managed to convince him that more skirt is more sexy."

Impressive. "Really? How'd you do that?"

"I let him put his hand up - wait, no. You don't get to distract me from this." With two long - for Rachel - strides, she was right up in front of him, tongue poking out from the corner of her mouth as she tried to get her fingers in under his and pry the bowtie loose. She succeeded mostly just in pulling it tighter and making him choke.

"Gurk -" Only the ingrained instinct that you do not hit girls, Blaine Anderson prevented him from using his free hand to bat her away. He'd known she was tenacious, but this was pretty ridiculous. Fortunately, just as he was turning an unattractive shade of blue, she gave up and let go with a huff.

"Fine."

He hurriedly loosened the tie until air flowed into his lungs once more. Blessed, sweet air. Thank God. "I hope you're quite finished."

"Of course not." Rachel smirked, and his heart sank. "We're not done here, Blaine Anderson. I'm just not going to be nice enough to give you a warning next time."

"Rachel..." Blaine's eyes narrowed. "I will take any attack on my accessories collection as a declaration of war."

Her smile only grew broader. "War it is, then."