A/N: Short chapter, but one that needed to be written (though I feel like it sucks, pleh). After we get this stuff out of the way, the fun part will come! Yay!

"Brittany, you are not allowed to open your eyes."

"Like Christmas morning?"

Smiling faintly, Rachel nodded, "Yes, exactly. Like Christmas morning… If that is what you do on Christmas morning."

Brittany smiled. "Yeah! We're not allowed to look at our stockings until our whole family's awake. Sometimes Lord Tubbington sleeps in, and it's really hard waiting for him."

"…Isn't Lord Tubbington your cat?" Rachel paused from where she was forcing herself to examine her own naked body. It was highly disturbing, but Brittany had insisted that she and Rachel had to see if new, sudden tattoos had appeared on their bodies somewhere that would explain what was happening; after that, if no tattoos, they had to go see if a fortune cookie had caused whatever it was that was going on even though neither remembered having Chinese takeout the night before (in fact, Rachel distinctly remembered making vegetable soup). Then was a voodoo curse, science experiment gone terribly awry, chanting the same phrase at the same time, alien abduction, and Brittany's favorite: sleepwalking.

Rachel was beginning to want to believe anything at this point, because after figuring out that she and Brittany's memories of what had happened before they woke up that morning strangely blanked out in the middle of Rachel educating the blonde that just because a word had double ls in it did not mean it was pronounced as an extra-long l noise, she just wanted to know something.

"Yes," Brittany answered happily, unabashedly holding Rachel's body's arms and legs out. "Last year, he got me two tickets to see Lady Gaga in concert, then got really mad when I took Santana instead of him that he puked all over the outfit I was going to wear."

Blushing hotly as she started looking below her waist, Rachel awkwardly wrapped her hand around her two ankles one after another, looking under her feet, "You saw Lady Gaga in concert? When? And no tattoos."

Giggling as Rachel's fingers brushed along her ankle as she pulled away, Brittany blinked her eyes open when Rachel quickly wrapped her robe around her. "Alright!" she barely waited for the robe to be tied before starting to pull the tank top over Rachel's head, "Your turn! It'll be like I'm looking at my own clone!"

Stumbling a little as she ended up bending over a bit more than she planned to with Brittany's enthusiastic yank, Rachel slammed her eyes shut.

"It's okay," Brittany in Rachel's voice chirped, "I don't mind if you look at me."

"Well, I mind," Rachel answered through gritted teeth. Apparently Brittany's body was much more ticklish than it looked – even without an ounce of extra fat anywhere on the dancer's body, her nerves and skin were terribly sensitive. As Brittany's attention moved down her body, her breath blew across Rachel's chest, making her squirm. She whimpered to herself. At least now she had a better idea about why Brittany had slept with nearly everyone in the school.

Wait.

"Brittany," Rachel started, slow and measured.

From the area right behind Rachel's ear, Brittany swept the hair off her neck and answered, "Yeah?" Her hands pressed against her shoulders, managing to hoist herself up while also forcing Rachel down a little lower.

"Brittany, I want you to listen to me closely. You have to promise me something."

Brittany dropped back down, then started trailing her hands down Rachel's back. "Oh! I have a freckle in the shape of George Washington!" she giggled.

Rachel had to stop herself from violently face faulting. "Brittany."

"And there's Godzilla… Wow. Do I have Tokyo, somewhere?"

"Brittany Susan Pierce!"

Brittany's hands froze from where they had been sliding down to grope Rachel's ass. "Rachel… RuPaul…? …Berry?"

Ru… RuPaul? "Brittany," she started in a strained voice, "My middle name is Barbra, not RuPaul."

"It's not?" Sounding shocked and confused, Brittany dropped her hands and knelt at Rachel's feet. She picked up her right foot, "Then why do Q and S call you that?"

Clamping down on an insane giggle due to tickling fingers, Rachel grumbled, "You should ask them that. No, on second thought, don't ask them. You need to promise me something first!"

Brittany sighed, and took a step fully away. "No tattoos," she reported, almost sounding sad.

Keeping her eyes up as most as she could, Rachel wiggled back into the sleepwear Brittany had changed into almost as soon as she'd stepped through the front door last night. At least it was better than the Cheerio uniform.

Rachel's headache came back with a vengeance. The Cheerios. She groaned and shuffled over to the bed to sit down next to Brittany. First things first. If they were going to be stuck in each other's body, there had to be some ground rules.

…Especially about what Brittany would do in Rachel's body.