A plot snuck up on me and forced me to write this highly self-indulgent piece of fluff. You like?
"No."
"C'mon, Blaine, you have to!" Tina pleaded.
"No!"
"Please, Blaine, do it for us!" Sugar joined Tina's begging, molding her face into an over the top puppy-dog pout. Blaine wasn't swayed.
"What part of 'no' wasn't clear the first couple times, guys?"
"But Blaaaaine, Nationals is right around the corner and we need to finalize our costumes and make-up!" Tina again. After last year's weird fountain mishap that she'd still never really explained, she wasn't leaving anything to the last minute, much to Blaine's chagrin.
"Guys, you saw me at prom. You know what to expect." Blaine held steady. He wasn't going to let Sugar's big eyes and Marley's sudden latching onto his arm push him into something he was sure he'd regret.
"That's not gonna happen this time, Blainey-days. Unique's bringing a secret weapon," said Tina. At the same time, Unique sashayed into the choir room.
"Have no fear, darlings, Unique has come to save the day!" she belted, waving a pink plastic make-up bag in front of her.
"What's that?" asked Blaine, suddenly wary. He felt like a hyena cornered by a bunch of bloodthirsty lionesses, which gave him the hysterical urge to start singing "Circle of Life." He shook his head, trying to regain his focus.
"This, dear Blaine, is what's going to give us the edge in our 'Salute the Seventies' Nationals routine," proclaimed Unique as she sorted through the bag. She pulled her hand out, showing Blaine a huge, bedazzled purple afro pick.
"No. No, no, no, no, no." Blaine made to get up and leave, but he suddenly found himself pinned to his chair by a lapful of Tina, and then his arms were being held against his sides by Marley. "You guys! This isn't fair!"
"We just want to see what you'd look like with a proper afro, Blaine. Is that really such a crime?" asked Tina. "I'm not above tickling you to get you to comply."
"...Fine. But the story doesn't leave this room. And no pictures!" Blaine resigned himself to his fate.
Twenty minutes, one violent shampooing, and three threats to "bring Sam in here, I swear to God, Blaine!" from Tina, Blaine looked like the poster child for the disco movement.
"It's so fluffy!" squealed Sugar, reaching up to pat over Blaine's head for the fourth time in two minutes.
"God, you look like late-nineties Justin Timberlake had a love child with his present self with that hair and those clothes," sneered Kitty, who had wandered in midway through the ordeal. "Smile!"
"What? Kitty, no-" Blaine whipped his head in her direction, but it was too late. The flash of Kitty's phone camera sent chartreuse blots floating in front of his eyes. "I said no photos, Kitty!"
"Hey, I wasn't in here, Brillo Pad, I didn't know the rules," she replied, tapping at her phone. "I told Santana what was happening and she threatened to 'go all Lima Heights Adjacent' on me if I didn't send her a pic, and I'm too pretty to die."
"Oh God, Santana has a photo now? I'm never gonna be able to look her in the eye again," moaned Blaine, dropping his head into his hands.
"Hey, no messing up the goods!" scolded Unique, batting his hands away. "I worked too hard on that for you to flatten it out not two minutes later."
"It looks fabulous, Unique. We've definitely found our look for Nationals!" cheered Tina, clapping her hands in excitement.
"You guys owe me so big for this, you know."
"Blaine, if and when we win Nationals, we will all chip in to buy you a bowtie in every color of the frikkin' rainbow for this. Now sit there and smile pretty."
"Yes, Tina." Blaine was looking forward to collecting on that promise.