With you on my shoulder
By HeartofSummer
Genre: Brittany and Santana romance
Copyright: I wish I owned them. Then they'd be a swedish thing and I wouldn't have to be sitting here, crying my eyes out at not being able to go to the concert or seeing the 3D movie...

A/N: I'm soooooo sorry about being slow on the updates. This is hard work! I hope you won't be dissapointed.
Some re-thinking on Brittany's part, thinking about first meetings and such. And cue our favourite, chain smoking fatty.
Here's a new Glee video I made (add youtube before you paste the link... dunno what happened)

/watch?v=LBYYm5Dn608

And of course, here's a link to the song I used. If you'd like to hear what Britt is singing to Santana! Clearly not a ballad, but it's Britt ^^ I changed the lyrics a tiny bit, hee hee. But it's only natural for Britt so sing slightly wrong, because it's only natural to get them wrong some times.

/watch?v=2Eiztcld-AU

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Chapter 10: Hairography

(Brittany)

"I don't like lying to Mr. Schuester..." I confess to Santana as we're walking into the auditorium, her pinky wrapped around mine, which makes me a little out of breath. "But coach said it was a super secret special cheermission... and that telling Mr. Schue would make him so nervous that poodle made wig he wears as hair... would fall off!" I whispered that last part and Tina and Artie stared at us over their shoulders.

"Still too loud?" I asked Santana in a normal tone, while she rolled her eyes at the two in front of us, before nodding. We go in after Puck and Mike on a row of seats and sit down.

"You should have told me." Santana sounds tired and the anger that's always in her voice seems a little bigger. "I could've done it. Or at least helped you to tape up some camera or something." I pout a little.

"People don't usually notice and care when I do stupid things, coach said. So I was the perfect agent to get away with it even if I got caught... Besides, coach said not to tell you, since you are busy running the school."

"That's not...! But-" Santana tries to say something and ends up doing it in Spanish, and she does it louder than my whispers. I blink, shocked by her harsh, exotic sounding voice.

"Anyway," she mutters, ignoring Matt who's turned around to stare at us with half a smile. "Next time tell me. And you probably shouldn't have mentioned coach's name. That's kind of a dead give away." I stare at her, wondering if I missed something.

"What's dead?"

"Never mind," she mumbles, sighing and looking away from me. I don't want to let it go though.

"Well, I knew he was assuming it was her, so if I told him it wasn't I hoped he would believe me."

"Not to be a bitch Britt, really, but you looked kind of guilty when you refused to look at him."

Santana had told Mr. Schue that she'd asked me to film her so she'd know what angle she looked best from, but he had still stormed out of the choir room.

"Thank you for helping me," I reach out for her hand on her leg. Gently I brush my fingers across hers, not daring to do more. She glares at me, but then smiles a little.

"Sure Brit. That's what friends are for." Her eyes aren't meeting mine, but the way her lips curve at the ends make me want to forget that she called us friends. I want to draw her out into the locker rooms and kiss her mouth so hard that she forgets herself that she ever called us friends. She makes me bold and daring and stops me from thinking clearly.

But looking at her acting the way she does, I know that's all we are. Not even best friends it seems, and that makes me worried. I don't like worrying, I don't wear it well. Both my dad and Santana has told me that. If you're a cheerleader you have got to always smile. But hearing that word that used to mean the world to me before, that word that meant that everything was fine and that I wasn't alone, suddenly becomes I word I don't want to use. I secretly swear to myself not to use it for the rest of the week.

We still haven't talked about the fact that we pretty much almost had sex. I'm not sure I want to talk about it. I just want to do it again.

When Mr. Schuester introduces the hot girls on stage I grab my own fingers, seeing San smile, trying to conceal it by biting her lip. The girls throw themselves into a hot dance with yellow, torn up shirts and tight pants, long hair and a lot of booty.

"They're so awesomely hot..." I say to Santana, who looks a little strange with raised eyebrows and a look upon her face that says she wants to join them.

I stare at her, wanting to say something but not finding the words, before I feel her nails trail on the side of my knee. I jump in surprise, before tensing more at her touch. I wish I could enjoy it, but it just makes me feel like I've done too many spins while dancing, and that I have to lie down not to puke all over the floor.

Out of the corner of my eyes I see her biting her lip again and I try to concentrate on the girls dancing. Sure, they're hot, but it's only hairography and bootyography, or whatever. They're not really that good dancers. The steps are okay, nothing too original or too challenging. But with the perfect hair tossing and booty pumping that's going on, not many can tell the difference between dancing and seducing.

Santana's nails are tickling me above the knee now, and concentrate to breathe normally.

Even Mr. Schue, though he look worried and has a blueberry baking in his wife's tummy, seems to be a little too happy to watch. Quinn hits Finn with her hand absent-mindedly, but she still stares, open mouthed.

For a second I wonder if she's impressed or just simply turned on too.

I snap back to the world, unable to ignore the fact how the fingers on my leg is moving more upwards and I lick my lips trying not to sigh.

I've longed for her touch for three days. As soon as I saw her in school yesterday I've wanted to throw myself at her. When I woke up after that night I kissed her lips, but she only gave me half a smile, telling me we should go get breakfast before her parents woke up. She sat on the opposite side of the table when we ate, and then she told me she had to meet up with Todd from football. She gave me a quick hug, before closing the door and leaving me there, keys in one hand and the warmth of her seeping from me like it was snowy outside.

Santana reminds me of where I should be when she bores her nails into my upper thigh as the girls all go down into splits. I bite the inside of my cheek, hard, boring my nails into the sides of my chair.

Since that hug we had not touched, except for her pinky seeming to always find it's way to mine. It kept me sane, but it also made me sad. I didn't even get a whole hand, just a small whisper of entangled fingers. I hadn't dared to let myself do something more, since it felt like she didn't want me too.

Suddenly they were done, and Santana removed her hand, clapping a little too enthusiastic.

"Man that was some hot stuff!"

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The moment me and Santana became friends changed my life completely.
We were so small and yet I'll never forget it. I was tall already back then, taller than most girls and boys. I'd been playing on the slide with a couple of other children in my group. They didn't like me very much because I always wanted to do exactly what they did, but always stumbled over stones and spades and ants. My dad used to say I could stumble over my own shadow.

The teachers where nice enough, but I think they somehow thought of me as a little retarded. You notice there is something not right, but as little you have a hard time seing the actual problem at times.

So when one of the other kids, a pudgy girl named Lauren something, pushed me hard when I was standing in line, the others laughed. I didn't cry, I just sat there, staring at her as she stuck out her tongue at me, before running up the ladder to go down the slide. She probably called me something nasty too, but I can't remember that. What I do remember is that I was looking down at the ground and drawing a kitty in the sand when something blocked the sun.

I looked up at a girl about my age, a lot shorter but with hands on her hips, just like a teacher. Her long hair was pushed into a cap, and even though she was wearing a cute, pink dress she looked boyish. She had dirt on her cheek and all over her dress.

"Why do you let them be so mean to you?"

"They're older than me. They're scary." The girls dark eyes narrowed.

"So? You're much bigger than them!" I looked down at her knees that were covered in band aids.

"It's hard to say it. It's always different things to say." The teachers voices always made me dizzy. Either it was "I had that first, could you please give it back" or it was "No, I don't want you to hit me because it hurts and you don't want me to hit you" or sometimes even "I don't want you putting snot on me, it's disgusting and only babies do that". It always took too long to try and get the right one for the right time, and even though I was small I was tired of crying. I used to do it a lot before, cry until my throat was sore and the snot was all over my clothes and my cheeks where red. But after the first weeks of teachers tiring and simply telling me to stop crying, I stopped altogether. After that the teachers always shook their heads at my quietness and left me there by myself to stand up to them.

"Just say no!" I looked up at her and she had the face of someone demanding. She reached out a hand to me, pulling me up. Then she picked up my sun hat that had fallen off, putting it on my head by standing on her toes.

"Wait here." She went over to the slide, fighting herself into the line and just as Lauren was about to go the little brunette said something. My bully looked at her and blew up her cheeks, but then Santana pushed her hard, following by planting her shoes in the girls back at the bottom. She quickly jumped up and stood on the slide, leaning over the pudgy girl who'd been pushed to the ground, and was staring up at her, open mouthed with her small, pig like eyes standing out more than usually because she went so pale.
Then Lauren started crying, running to a teacher, but Santana just smirked, a smirk I would learn to know very well during the years that we would be friends, and walked back to me.

"W-what did you say?" I wondered, almost too afraid to ask. I'd never seen Lauren cry before.

"Nothing much," she shrugged, sounding like an adult. "She's not scary at all." I felt mesmerized at that moment. The girl standing with her legs so widely apart, looking up at me was the first one in my age to really care. In that moment she felt like a knight in shining armour.

"Do you want to be my best friend?" I blurted out, not able to contain my excitement. Her smile turned kind, and she took my hand.

"Okay, I'll be your best friend. Let's play race cars!"

After that day Santana and I became inseparable. She was loyal and fierce and always wanted to make me laugh. No one ever picked on me again during our years together. And like I said, I don't cry easily - the first time I cried, I mean really cried, in years was that late sunday afternoon when Santana appeared in my backyard, sweaty and breathing heavily from running all the way from home. I was sitting in the grass, playing with my Barbie when she tumbled through the hedge. I often see her expression in my nightmares. Her eyes wide and black, grass sticking out from her dark curls and with her mouth open as if in schock. I'd run up, not daring to ask her with words but I know my eyes did it for me, and she didn't want to tell me, so she hugged me. But her super hard hug told me what she couldn't - we were being torn apart. And so the tears surfaced again, and I had no chance at stopping them.

In a way, Santana made me who I am today. I'm not sure if it's only a good thing.

I guess it's not that surprising that teachers don't take time to try and teach me stuff now. It's like they gave up already when I was small, and since no one really thought helping me over and over would do any difference, they left me misspelling words and writing colours instead of dates and drawing cats instead of writing essays.

I'm not that dumb. I could write an essay, though I would probably misspell a lot. I always thought it was nicer to write "orange" instead of autumn, because at least I could spell orange.
But in the end... I just got tired of trying. People blamed different things. My mom and dad said it was because of us living in Germany until I was three, but I really doubt that's the problem. The teachers liked to call it dyslexia and the kurator liked to call it ADHD. I think it was a mix of being simply different and not having teachers that wanted to teach me. The only ones who taught me things were the ones who did it with care. My mom taught me maths, which I'm great at. My dad taught me about animals, which I love. My dance teacher taught me to use my long body to my advantage, and I love dancing. Santana taught me about friendship... and every day she tells me stuff that I live by, trusting her blindly. So like I said... I'm not so sure it was right to let her mold me in the way she has.

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"Wow, especially that DJ girl, she was smokin'." Santana is still going on about their preformance, and she's not easily impressed.
"Should you really be saying it so loudly?" I say, staring at Finn staring at Rachel, Puck and Rachel staring at Quinn, and Quinn looking at us. I feel a little sad about it, because both Quinn and Santana refuses to talk to each other. Quinn mostly hangs out with Finn and Santana is mad at her for... well, mostly for getting knocked up, I guess... and because Sue pressures her to be meaner than usually. San keeps telling me that Puck's hers, but I know they never do anything but have sex. Maybe, on some level, they understand each other. It's not like Puck and Quinn are together or anything... but the way they look at each other is hard to miss.
I feel Santana stare at me and her arm shoots out to stop me.

"What do you mean?"
"I mean, someone could think that you're... into that stuff." I still can't look at her. Now I look at my feet instead.
"I just-" My eyes search for hers. They're shifting. "I was interested their routine, that's all," she shrugs and look away, brushing me off just like that. "It's so different from what we do in cheerios and here." My heart sinks in my chest, I almost feel a little dissapointed that she didn't see the girls in the same way I did. Another part of me feels relief... that I'm the only girl she wants to experiment with.

"Like I told you, it's just hairography..." I mostly say it to myself, but she hears me.
"Then why don't you teach me?" I look at her, wondering if she's being serious.

"Teach me." She's putting on her demanding voice now. I neither know how nor want to object. I just blink, smile slightly and throw my hair into a little fit of spasms.
"Pretend you're being tasered," I say confidently now. "Don't think about your body like a body, think of it as a... as jelly and stuff!" I shake it, moving closer to her, making her smile slightly, when I start humming the song it turns into that laugh I love so much.

"I don't think you're ready for this jelly..." she sings quietly, laughing again as she leans into me and I sing with her, making us both laugh and the rest of the world dissapear for a few seconds. I always feel this way when I dance with Santana... rehearsing with her and having her eyes only on me and knowing I'm the one she needs
My eyes creep down to her skirt and she sees it and bites her lip for a second in a way that makes me lean in closer, the hummingbirds humming in my lips.
"All right, guys, I did some thinking last night." Mr. Schuester inteerupts us, and we break apart and I nod, laughing encourigangly.

"Just like that." I try to keep the smile on my lips, but I know what I wanted to do seconds before and I push away the thought with the little self control I have, reminding myself of the face she wore when she slammed the door. Like Mittens when I tell him that he can't pee on our neighbhours lawn. Annoyance and frustration when he used to sit on the garden table, staring into their rows of roses.

In that way I think that Santana and Mittens are much alike... neither of them likes to be told what they can and cannot do. I wonder who told Santana she couldn't kiss me... Probably the same people who tells Kurt he can't date the guys in school... It's gotta be someone very mean, and I hope for a second it's not God like my grandma once said. Because that would mean God doesn't care about rainbow children and that's just... mean!

"I think I found our new number for sectionals. We're going to do the title song from "Hair"." Me and Santana exchange a look.
"More jelly," I say quietly, and Santana looks away, before opening her mouth as if to say something in her defence.

"I..." The look she gives me before she turns away seems... there's Mittens again, but with a dose of the look Bailey wears when I have to tie her outside of a store.
I start thinking about Mittens again, missing him like crazy as I look down on my hands. Now I have neither Santana nor Mittens in my bed... and Bailey just won't do, because she snores and steals all of the duvet.

I've put out his favourite muffins, the ones with mint leaves and butter cream inside as often as I can in all sorts of places, but I've only seen birds and homeless people eat them. Once I'm sure I even saw Finn munching on one.

Me, Daphne and Santana has knocked on doors and my parents have asked everyone in the vet clinic and at the café. No sign of him...
It feels like I've lost an uncle or something.

I feel her staring at me, but I fix my skirt and let a sad sigh escape my lips. Then I look up, listen to Mr. Schue again and laugh in just the right time as Puck winks at me with a huge wig of curly hair. I'm a cheerleader again, pushing Mittens away. After all, worry doesn't suit me.

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"Who're you texting?" Santana is reading a magazine about hairdos, trying to decide one to try out on me, but time and time again she picks up her phone to text. I try to resist the urge to hop on top of her and read it myself. That's the way I usually do it.

"Puck." I swallow.

"What's he saying?" She picks up the phone again, push some buttons and then looks back at the magazine.

"That he's horny." I turn around in my chair.

"Isn't he supposed to be with Quinn?"

"Umm," she looks up, raising an eyebrow. "Yeah, they're babysitting. So what?"

"I just thought they were... ducks..." I whisper quietly, not wanting Santana to be mad.

"He's mine, remember? I'm putting him on a chain instead of a leash, and to keep him from barking I need to throw him a bone."

"Why would Puck want a bone?" I ask, confused. Santana just ignores me, texting again.
"Santana, what kind of bones are you throwing him...?" I was going to tell her not to give him chicken bone because it's really soft and the tiny pieces can hurt him, but...

"I'm just sexting him. No biggie. Do you like this?" She shows me a picture of Taylor Swift with her curly hair up in a knot with flowers. I do like it, so I nod, but I keep my brows furrowed.

"I thought we were hanging out, San. Why are you sexting Puck...?"

"Ugh, you're starting to sound like Quinn, please stop." I swallow, the pain in my stomache stronger than ever now. I hate it when she's like this...

"That's mean San. I don't message Mike that I have no panties on while I'm with you..."

She stares more intently into the magazine, before she looks up at me.

"Sorry, BrittBritt. You know sexting doesn't mean anything to me..." I swallow, but feeling a bit better at her kind tone. She said sorry, and that is unusual.

"You did an amazing job teaching everyone about Hairography today," she keeps on going, smiling at me. "I was laughing so loudly with everyone I almost forgot we're not supposed to be in there to have fun." A hummingbird tickles my heart, making it laugh and I can't keep the smile away. She looks down into the magazine again, trying to hide her satisfied smile and starts mumbling about the things we will need for my hairdo. I brush my hair again, looking at her long dark eyelashes fluttering against her cheeks and her red, tasty lips moving slowly... The similiar song hops onto me, and the melody reminds me that I haven't told her yet.

"It's hard, for me, to say what I want from you..." I sing as I brush my hair, looking at Santana's reflection."...trying to form the words to this song, how, I mean, I'm feeling..." I stare at her intently now, the nervousness in my voice showing. She must feel it, because she looks up.
"Don't stop," she tells me, just the thing I told her when I heard her sing like this for the first time.
"So many colours in this distraction, brown hair makes her lips more red..." I blush, looking away and keep singing to my hair instead. "Words would not describe how I'm feeling, dries up on my tounge, but it's useless...

She makes my heart scream color,
I know by now she should have found me out! Ouou, Ouou!
Ever since I have been exhausted,

The color makes her smile...!" I see her smiling at my words, forgetting the magazine and it gets to me too, as I put the brush to my mouth instead, singing louder.

"She's always waiting for me to speak, but all she hears is mindless noise!
Though I might not communicate, my heart, she knows the colour I'm screaming...

she makes my heart scream color...
I know by now, she should have found me out! Ouou! Ouou!"

I jump to the stick, standing up, showing off by dancing around, shaking my hair and skirt and she sits up, shaking her head while laughing with me and it feels...!
"I feel it coming... " I grin at her, inching closer as she sings along, almost screaming the words; "I feel it coming! I feel it coming! I feel it coming! I feel it coming! Ooooh! Oooh! Ooooh!" I jump into the bed with her, leaning against her, and even though she hasn't heard the song before she hums with me, trying to sing along.

"Ooou, she makes my heart scream colour,

I know by now, she should've found me out!" She "ooouh's" with me.
"And ever since I have been exhausted,

The colour... makes... her... smile...!" I lean my back against her shoulder and she pushes me away, still laughing her melodic laugh. Then we both relax and just look at each other.

"That was the ballad I was supposed to sing to you..." My words are out and I don't think twice about them because they're the truth. But Santana looks scared, like I just told her I had hid Coach Sylvester under my bed. She didn't like it, the song. I feel my heart grow heavy... it feels like she's thrown it down the stairs.
"But, but I wasn't sure it was a ballad so it was good I didn't sing it." I tell her, getting up from the bed and leaning into the mirror to apply some more lip gloss.

Santana keeps quiet, looking at my doll house with Barbie and Ken in bed. I wish I could hear her thoughts... She pats the spot Mittens loves to lay on and then she stands up without a warning. She picks up her bag, throws a look in my direction and rests her hand on the door.
"I need to... I really need to go. Puck needs some real life sexting..." She says it with a mean smile, and I just look back at her reflection.
"Okay... Don't let any dinosaurs bite you," I say as she pulls open the door, almost trips over Bailey who storms in, and leave me there. With a sigh I sink down onto the chair.
Bailey sneezes in the way she does when Santana doesn't pat her and comes up to me to put her head in my lap. I smile, pat her and hum silently.
"and ever since I have been exhausted..."

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I was kind of mad, but I pushed it away. She needed to do what she needed to do.
"Where are your other half?" Mercedes asks me as she joins me, Kurt and Tina on the chairs set up in a line.

"This is the whole me," I say, innocently. They'll think I don't understand, but of course I do. When me and Santana are apart people notice. Kurt puts a hand on my knee.

"She's just wondering where Santana is, honey." He says it kindly. Truth is, Kurt and me are pretty alike. We don't really care much about each other when I'm with the cheerios and he's with Mercedes, but the times we're on our own our friendship goes back to the way it's been since the first time we spoke. I'd been on my way to my car and Puck and some other guys from the football theme had been forcing him into a dumpster.

I got really mad at them, but it's true what Quinn says. Sometimes a bitchy behaviour can get you and anyone out of anything. At least if you've got the boobs to be a bitch. And I do.

I'd just went right up to Puck, given him a cold, blank stare, so unlike my usual chirpy smiles, and told him he was so totally not hot raping the gay kid. That did him good. He started mouthing off, and the guys seemed too scared to touch Kurt.

Then I'd simply said that's what all the girls on the cheerios thought, since it seemed like they all paid more attention to chasing him than chasing us. I don't think they really bought it, because later I heard them high fiving each other about putting Kurt's head into the toilet. But it worked for a moment, and Kurt had been his usual diva self, sneering at me that he could take care of himself.

I'd just smiled at him, saying I knew that but I hadn't wanted his Jimmy Choo's to get dirty. After that we'd somehow become good friends.

I'd helped him with his dancing and me and Tina had gotten friends as well. I really liked Tina. She was a good dancer too.

"She's probably off stealing some kid's lunch money," I said, unbothered. Mercedes oohed, but I simply shrugged. Just then Santana walked into the room with Puck and Mr. Schuester.

And a whole bunch of good looking, deaf kids.

We did our thing, shaking our hairs and it was super fun, espescially to see all of their faces afterwards. I sneaked a peak at Santana. She looked sweaty and insanely hot with her dark hair in her face. She turned as she we finished, but I ignored her and sat a few seets away.

Then the deaf started singing, and at first I just sat, listening to the weird noise that was supposed to be singing. Then I started to like it. Then I felt a genuine smile creep onto my lips. They were really enjoying it, this way of singing, and their hands made them look like they were casting a spell. I love magic, and this definatly felt like it.

Suddenly i heard Mercedes strong, loving voice rising together with theirs. My eyes snapped over to her, before they went over to San sitting just two chairs away, leaning out to smile at me. I looked away and when I saw Mercedes stand up, I hummed with before getting up to take part in the magic.

Santana and the rest wasn't far behind.

"I hope some day,
you will join us,
and the world will be as one..."

She stood beside a cute girl in short, coppery hair, concentrating hard I think. Then her laugh was heard as we followed the movements, boobs to tickling our stomachs.

I threw my hair over my shoulder, feeling that it was in the way of the purpose of the song, as Santana threw a wink at me over her shoulder, then looking away. Her cheeks had looked redder than usual.

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The true colors preformance was... hard.

The coincidence of Mr. Schue choosing a song about showing our true colors was about as likely as me and Santana being placed to sit beside each other. But we had and somehow, since I had refused to look at her, I'd noticed everything else. It had seemed like everyone's true colors were coming out.

I saw Rachel and Finn staring at each other... golden.

I saw Tina and Artie looking, real happiness in their eyes... red.

I saw Kurt look at Finn, and it hurt me... purple, like the mix of light blue and baby pink.

I even caught Rachel glancing at Quinn with jelousy, something fiery in her look and the way her fingers gripped her thighs... green.

And the most obvious was the pain in Puck's eyes and how Quinn longed for him... Blue, dark as night. My hummingbirds tickled my ribs.

Santana looked in front of her when I dared to sneak a peek, a little sad. The she laughed, but I just looked away, singing, feeling my heart hurt at every note of Tina's voice.

And the colours inside me where an endless rainbow.

After telling the others goodbye and giving Tina a ride home, during which we talked and sang, sang mostly because Tina never stutter when she sing, I unlocked the door, knowing I'd be alone.

It as nice. I went into the kitchen only to pick out the biggest chocolate muffin from the fridge and biting into it. Bailey had gone with daddy to work today so she wasn't home either... the house was so quiet that my footsteps almost echoed in the kitchen. I picked out a glass to pour me some milk when the doorbell rang.

I threw a glance at the clock, took another big bite of the cupcake as I walked throught the hallway, closing my eyes for a second as the afternoon sun reflected and blinded me. When the doorbell rang a second time, I called;

"Coming!" Swallowing the crumbles in my mouth, I put the cupcake in the stairs and opened the door. There she was, red cheeks and heavily breathing, just like that sunday so many years ago. Her eyes met mine and I'm lost in them for a second, suprised and relieved they're not black, but it's usual hot coke colour.
Then, when a paw fought the darkness of her curls, I realized why she was so out of breath, standing at my door instead of storming in like she usually does.

In her arms was a little, chubby kitten.

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A/N: Ooooh, what next? XD