Please read the author's note.

Hi, I'm Maxine.

This is the first fanfiction I've ever written in my life, so I hope you'll enjoy it and be kind. Though I lack experience with this site, I am close friends with an author on here, and when I presented her with this to read, she said nothing but encouraging things, telling me that I should continue it and create an account to write it. You may know her as Crazy4Klaine. I know her as Rena.

However, she did warn me that the format of this story is very similar to CP Coulter's Dalton, and that it'll looke like I'm copying. Honestly, I have never read Dalton, so I honestly don't know what she means by that. I may read it someday, but I'm not a big reader. Please don't sue or think I'm copying, I just wanted this story to be like an actual TV show, with the opening credits and all that junk. I'm not trying to steal anyone's ideas, either, if this is already a story on this site. I apoplogize to anyone who thinks I'm copying them, because I'm not. Honestly, as long as I'm not copying the whole storyline or anything, I don't think it shoukd matter, but seriously, if anyone has a problem with it, let me know.

I take critisism just as happily as I do encouragement, however, so please review if you have anything to say. If anyone wants to tell me that I'm copying their work, show me what you mean and I will change whatever you please without another word. Just please be kind.

Thank you and I hope you like reading about the journey that is The Switch.

-I do not own Glee. If I did, several stories on this site would be canon and I would have much better things to do than sit here writing this fic.-

The Switch

Episode One: Pilot: Must Be Tuesday

When you're different, when you're special, sometimes you have to get used to being alone.

- Kurt Hummel

Kurt Hummel walked into the Lima Bean on a seemingly normal Tuesday, his messenger bag slung across his shoulder.

Mercedes was supposed to accompany him on their daily coffee run, but she had called him this morning sick with the stomach bug, and she had to stay home, so Kurt went alone rather than bringing any of the other girls, deciding that they would only either bitch at him or talk his ear off.

He stepped up to the counter and ordered a Grande Non-Fat Mocha. He stepped to the side to get a mixing straw and some cream when he heard a voice behind him.

"Grande Non-Fat Mocha? Thanks." Ordered a voice that sounded scarily similar to Kurt's.

Kurt stilled and turned, only to meet the back of someone's head a few feet away. His eyes widened at the sight of the chestnut-colored hair and seemingly pale skin as the person gathered up the same type and amount of cream Kurt had.

Calm down, Hummel, it's just a coincidence . . . Kurt told himself as his eyes wandered to the stranger's clothing. He was wearing a black leather jacket over what looked to be red flannel, and jeans that hung so low on his hips Kurt was afraid that if the boy shifted that his pants would fall down around his ankles, but as Kurt looked closer, he saw that there was, in fact — Oh dear Gaga, we have a fashion crisis — a belt through the belt loops. However, considering that the pants were so low, the belt wrapped around just below his hips, where it was not supposed to be.

"Grande Non-Fat Mocha?" The barista's voice rang out, snapping Kurt out of his trance, and he made his way to the counter.

"That's me." He said, only he said it with another voice, and when he reached for the cup, his hand met with another. He retracted it quickly, as did the other, and he looked up.

Oh holy sweet mother of Lady Gaga and Grilled Cheesus and everything else that's holy.

When his eyes met with the boy he was looking at just a moment ago, his eyes widened to the size of dinner plates, as did the other boy's.

It was like looking into a freaking mirror.

The boy had flawless, pale skin and immaculate soft-looking chestnut hair, as Kurt has seen a moment ago. He had a button nose and full, pink lips, which were parted in disbelief. His long, pale neck lead down to connect with shoulders slightly broader than Kurt's, but they were extremely similar nonetheless.

The only difference between the two was their eyes. They matched in size, though while Kurt's were a piercing glasz, the other's were a chocolatey, warm brown.

"And another Grande Non-Fat Mocha." The barista said, placing it on the counter.

The other boy snapped his gaze from Kurt's eyes to the barista, and shook his head a bit. "Th-thanks." He managed to splutter out in the same high, sweet voice as Kurt's, grabbing the coffee.

Kurt remained speechless.

The boy turned back to Kurt's gaze, and he blinked a couple times before finally saying something.

"Hi." Was all he could really gather together.

Kurt swallowed, realizing that his throat had become very dry, and locked his lips. "Hello," He finally managed to say, though he was pretty sure his brain was short-circuiting. So, without thinking, he forcefully stuck his hand out. "Um . . . I'm Kurt. Kurt Hummel." He said, not knowing he had said it until the boy took his hand and shook it, their eyes still locked.

"Bentley," He introduced himself. "Bentley Garrison."

Kurt inwardly sighed at the thought that this boy had a different last name.

". . . but my biological last name was Hummel."

Damn it!

Kurt blinked. "W-what do you . . ." He started, but couldn't bring himself to finish.

"I think we should sit." Bentley said, leading Kurt to a table as they were getting strange looks. Kurt nodded, and followed Bentley hesitantly to a slightly secluded table.

The sat in silence for a minute.

Then Bentley took a deep breath. "Must be Tuesday." He joked, and Kurt smiled a little at the Buffy reference.

"Yeah. Tuesday." Kurt said.

And suddenly, Kurt couldn't take it anymore.

Apparently, neither could Bentley.

"How old are you?" They both asked at the same time. "Eighteen." They both answered, and their eyes widened.

"Where were you born?" Kurt asked.

"Here. Lima Memorial." Bentley answered.

"So was I." Kurt said.

"When's your birthday?" Bentley asked.

"July sixteenth." Kurt answered.

"So is mine." Bentley said, his eyes still wide.

"What year?" Kurt asked.

"1993."

"Me, too." Kurt said, and for a minute they both stopped asking questions, and just looked at each other.

"What time were you born?" Bentley asked quietly.

"Two fifty-five." Kurt answered.

Bentley swallowed. "Two fifty-eight." He replied shakily.

"In the afternoon." They both said.

Kurt's pretty sure his brain short-circuited.

"So what does this mean?" Bentley asked.

Kurt swallowed and took a deep breath. "I . . . I think we might be twins."

You come from here,

I come from there.

You rock out in your room,

I rock a world premiere.

We're more alike than anybody could ever tell.

(Ever tell)

- One and the Same

Selena Gomez and Demi Lovato

Hi there.

I'm Kurt Hummel.

I'm Bentley Garrison.

And this is our story.

As of now, we've only just met each other in a coffee shop; I guess you could call it fate.

Together, we're forming a plan, but we have no idea what kind of insanity we're signing up for.

But I have a feeling we're going to find out.

"Twins?" Bentley asked quietly, almost in disbelief, but something in his brown eyes showed that he agreed. He shook his head. "No . . . no, we can't be twins . . . I . . . I'm an only child . . ."

Kurt sighed. "I thought I was, too. I mean, aside from my step-brother, but that's only because his mom and my dad got married, so . . ." Bentley gave him a look, and Kurt knew that he should stop talking. "S-sorry." He redirected his gaze to his coffee cup.

Bentley swallowed. "I . . . I guess it's possible . . ." he started. ". . . I mean, we look a little alike . . ." Kurt looked up and raised an eyebrow that said 'You're kidding me, right?' Bently laughed. "Okay, a lot alike, and, the thing is . . . I'm adopted."

Kurt's eyebrows shot up past his hairline. "Oh." Was all he cold really manage.

Bentley rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "I was put up for adoption right after I was born, and I live with my adoptive parents - Bridget and Michael, but I call them Mom and Dad." He pulled out his wallet, and opening it, showed Kurt a photo. Looking at the old, crumpled picture, Kurt saw a young baby - probably not even a year old - that was scarily similar to what he looked like as a baby, cradled in the arms of a woman with short, jet black hair and chocolate eyes. She was smiling broadly at the camera, almost laughing, and behind her was an equally happy looking man with spiky brown hair and blue eyes. Kurt couldn't help but smile at the happy photo. "I've known that I was adopted for as long as I can remember, because they thought I deserved to know." Benley explained, tucking the photo back into his wallet and taking a sip of coffee.

"They sound nice." Kurt said.

Bentley nodded. "They are." Then, for a moment, he paused. "So, our mother and father," he seemed to stumble over the words a bit, "They . . . you live with them?" He asked, sounding a bit sad as he looked down at his hands.

Kurt had never felt so horrible in his entire life.

He couldn't believe that this had only hit him now. Of course Bentley would feel sad about this - their parents had kept Kurt and not him! Kurt suddenly felt sympathetic for him and frowned.

"As . . . far as I know." Kurt said, and startled himself at the truth of the statement. Was he living with his biological father? Or had he just not told him he was adopted?

No. Because Bentley's last name was Hummel, too.

Or, at least, it used to be.

Plus, Kurt had seen his own birth certificate numerous times.

"Are they nice?" Bentley's voice cut through Kurt's thoughts.

Kurt blinked a few times to process what he had asked. "Oh . . . yes, um . . . dad is." He said, his gaze falling.

"What about mom?" Bentley said, and Kurt could almost feel how uncomfortable he was using that word.

Kurt took a deep breath. "She . . . she was."

"She's not anymore?"

"I wouldn't know, she's dead."

Bentley choked on his coffee for a moment before he could respond. "Oh my God, I'm . . . I'm sorry . . ."

"You're sorry?" Kurt asked, raising an eyebrow. "I'm sorry that you never got to meet her." He apologized before he could stop himself.

Bentley only shrugged. "Well, what about . . . uh, dad? What's he like?"

Kurt bit his lip before responding. "Honestly? He is . . . the most amazing dad ever. He's kind, fun, has a good sense of humor, and is a horrible dancer just like any other dad," This earned a laugh from Bentley. "But above all he's accepting."

Bentley nodded, those froze on the last part. "Accepting?" He asked, taking a sip of his coffee.

Kurt sighed. Here it was. Here was the part where Kurt told Bentley he was gay and he never talked to him again. Where Bentley would look at him in disgust and say that Kurt couldn't be his brother, because there was no way he was related to a fag.

"I'm gay." He managed to say it quickly and proudly, his chin held up high, and braced himself for slurs.

But they never came.

"Oh." Bentley said simply with a nod, taking another sip of his coffee.

"Oh?" Kurt repeated Bentley, who raised an eyebrow at him. "That's all you have to say?"

Bentley brow furrowed. "Um . . . congratulations?" He tried.

Kurt raised an eyebrow. "You . . . don't have a problem wth it?"

"No."

"Are you gay?"

Bentley only laughed. "No, I'm straight, but it just doesn't bother me. My best friend back home is gay."

Kurt's eyebrows raised. "Really?"

"Yeah, his name's Blaine." Bentley explained, pulling out his wallet again to show Kurt a picture. Kurt looked close, seeing Bentley in the middle of laughing with his arm around a curly haired boy. The boy - Blaine, Kurt assumed it was - had deep, playful hazel eyes that were just dancing with laughter in the picture. He had his arm around Bentley's shoulder's as well, his mouth in a wide, laughing smile. There was a beach in the background of the picture was bright with sunlight.

"He's . . ." Kurt cut himself off with a blush.

Bentley laughed again. "Go on, you can say it. I hear it all the time from Blaine; he's out and very much proud."

Kurt smiled at how surprisingly comfortable he felt with Bentley. "He's cute." He said with a shrug.

"That wasn't so hard, was it?" Bentley teased, and Kurt shoved his shoulder lightly.

Kurt took a sip of his coffee when he remembered the surroundings of the picture. "Do you live near a beach or something?"

Bentley smirked. "Los Angeles, California." He said proudly.

Kurt started choking on his coffee. "What?" He managed to splutter out. "No way!"

"Yes way!" Bentley said.

"What are you doing up here, then?" Kurt asked.

Bentley shrugged. "My dad has business trips up here every now and then . . .

"No kidding," Kurt said, shaking his head. "When are you leaving?" He asked, taking another sip of coffee.

Bentley frowned. "Tomorrow, actually." He answered, looking down.

Kurt's face fell. "Oh," He said. "That's . . . that's too bad, I . . . I was hoping to learn more about you." He said sadly, and Bentley bit his lip.

Then, Bentley laughed.

"What?" Kurt asked, his brow furrowing.

Bentley shook his head. "Uh, nothing - it's stupid."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Bentley, trust me - I know stupid, and you're not it. What was so funny?" He asked.

Bentley sighed a little. "I . . . I was just gonna suggest that we . . . trade lives for a little while . . ." He finished, looking down and not making eye contact. "Stupid, I know."

"That's not stupid." Kurt said quietly, and for a moment Bentley wasn't sure if he had said it at all.

His head shot up. "What?"

"I said that it isn't stupid." Kurt answered shyly, worrying his bottom lip beween his teeth.

Bentley's eyes were the size of dinner plates. "Kurt," He started, and Kurt decided that it was odd, heaing your name from a voice that was so similar to yours. "Are you saying that . . . that you want to?" He asked, leaving off on a high note.

Kurt swallowed. "Why not?" He asked. "I mean, I would absolutely love to see L.A., and wouldn't you want to meet our dad?" Bentley's posture straightened and his entire face lit up with hope as he nodded eagerly. Kurt took a deep breath. "Then I say we do it," But then his face fell. "But wait," He started. "What about getting back? How are we gonna trade back after a little while?" He asked, already feeling his hopes shattering.

Bentley still sported the same smile as he shook his head. "My dad has business trips here in Lima all the time, don't worry," He assured Kurt. "We can trade back whenever we want." He said.

Kurt smile returned and his whole face lit up. "So it's official. I leave tomorrow as you and you stay here with me."

Bentley held his hand out. "You've got yourself a deal."

Kurt reached out and shook the outstretched hand. "Deal."

Bentley laid down on his bed in the motel room, his black head phones over his ears a she listened to 'Animal I Have Become' by Three Days Grace. He began to hum along as his eyes drifted shut, and he was just about to fall asleep-

Clunk!

Bentley opened one eyes at the noise and raised an eyebrow, but shook it off and closed his eyes again.

Clunk!

Just don't think about it . . . it's probably just a racoon or something.

Clunk!

Just ignore it . . .

Clunk!

"Bentley! What the Hell are you doing in there?"

Kurt!

Bentley sat up and shut off his iPod, tossing the headphones aside and moving towards the window, opening it up. "Kurt? What are you doing here?" He asked confusedly when he saw his twin - God, he would never get used to that - dressed in all black carrying a small black box.

"I'm here because we need to learn about each other and our families before we trade places," Kurt explained. "What are we gonna do? Tell them that we've just randomly lost our memory?"

"Good point." Bentley said.

"Well, help me in." Kurt said, holding out his hand. Bentley took it and pulled as Kurt slid in, but suddenly lost his grip and Kurt tumbled to the floor with an 'oof!'

"Sorry! Sorry!" Bentley apologized, helping Kurt up.

"S'fine . . ." Kurt waved it off, though his voice came out in a grunt. "Get my box." He instructed, and Bentley picked up the small black box balanced on the window sill.

"What is it?" He asked, looking at it and turning it around in his hands.

"Pictures," Kurt answered, taking the box from him and opening it up, revealing a neat stack of photos inside. He pulled one out and sat on the bed, placing the box on one side of him and patting the other side as a gesture for Bentley to sit down. He handed the picture to Bentley and pointed to it. "This is a picture from dad and Carole's wedding last year. That's Finn, my - er, our step-brother, and Carole is our step-mother, obviously. Our dad's name is Burt, he owns a car shop, which I work at because I am a certified mechanic. I know everything there is to know about cars. What do you know?" He asked.

Bentley's brow furrowed. "Uh . . . I know that the wheels stop turning when you hit the brake pedal, and they start when you hit the gas pedal." He said with an apologetic smile.

Kurt sighed and hung his head. "Okay, if dad asks you to help him in the shop, say no." He said.

Bentley scoffed and gave his shoulder a light shove.

Kurt chuckled and put the picture back, pulling out a group photo. "This is New Directions."

Bentley's eyes widened. "Did you just say 'Nude Erections?'" He asked, appalled.

Kurt sighed and face palmed. "See? This is the type of stuff we have to go through every day," He said. "No, the New Directions, Bentley. They're McKinley's school Glee club and the highlight of my day. Honestly it's the only reason I get up in the morning to go to school in the first place."

"You're in Glee club?" Bentley asked, worry tinging his voice.

Kurt raised one delicate eyebrow. "Yes . . . why?"

Bentley looked down at his hands and sighed. ". . . I can't sing. At all."

Kurt's mouth fell open in horror. "Bentley Garrison, I refuse to believe that you are my brother if you cannot sing," He said. "Sing right now. Show me."

Bentley laughed humorlessly. "No. No way. Not a chance."

"C'mon! Just show me if you're bad or not and we'll figure something out." Kurt reasoned.

Bentley sighed and defeat and nodded. "Fine, okay . . ." He agreed reluctantly, and then opened his mouth to sing, but paused. "What should I sing?"

Kurt shrugged. "What type of music do you like?"

"I like rock." He offered.

Kurt laughed a bit. "Okay, so we have different taste in music, that's for sure . . . uh, try singing 'It's My Life' by Bon Jovi. If your range is anything like mine, the low pitch shouldn't be a problem at all."

Bentley nodded. "Okay, uh . . . This ain't a song, for the brokenhearted . . ." He sang, and Kurt listened to his similar voice and nodded in approval as he continued.

"Good," Kurt said. "But much different from my style of music. Plus, your voice is a bit rougher than mine, and you don't have quite as much of a range. It doesn't matter anyways, really - Mr. Schue never gives me solos, so it shouldn't be a problem." He said with a smile.

"Well, what about you?" Bentley asked suddenly.

Kurt's brow furrowed. "Pardon?"

"I want to hear you sing. What kind of music do you like?" Bentley asked, holding his chin in his hand as he shifted into a criss-cross-applesauce position.

Kurt's eyes lit up visibly. "I like all kinds of music," He answered. "Some more than others, of course, but I am very much capable of singing any genre I set my mind to. Showtunes rank number one. For instance, 'Defying Gravity' is one of my favorite songs, from the greatest muscial of all time." He announced proudly.

"And wht musical would that be?"

Kurt's fell open in horror. "No. Nope. There is no possible way that I am related to you," Bentley laughed. "'Wicked,' Bentley! You're not telling me you haven't heard 'Defying Gravity?'" He asked, cringing.

Bentley smiled up at him. "I dunno; sing it."

Kurt grinned broadly. "Well, if you insist," He teased, and took a breath. "Something has changed within me, something is not the same . . ." He lost himself in the song, not noticing how Bentley's jaw fell open in amazement until he had finished and Bentley started clapping loudly. Kurt laughed at the reaction.

"Wow, you're really good!" Bentley said, his eyes sparkling in fascination, and his mile quickly fell into a smirk. "Blaine would definitely like you." He teased, and Kurt shoved him off of the bed.

They were acting like close brothers already, and they had only met twelve hours ago.

"Okay," Bentley sighed the word, looking Kurt up and down and checking his outfit. Kurt was clad in baggy jeans that hung low on his hips, a black leather jacket over a blue T-shirt that had the Warner Brothers symbol on it, though obove the symbol read, 'If you see the police' and in place of Warner Bros. was 'Warn a Brother.' Bentley wore tight white skinny jeans with zippers running diagonally all the way down his leg, an oversized green long-sleeved shirt and black and whte striped fingerless gloves with black converse that reached his knees. "So, Mom's name?"

"Bridget." Kurt answered.

"Dad's name?"

"Michael."

"You go to . . ."

"Venice High."

"Best friends' names?"

"Blaine Anderson, Wes Montgomery and David Nicklin."

Bentley smiled. "Good, You've been taught well, young grasshopper." Kurt laughed.

"Okay, you're turn," He said. "New Directions' names and personalities?"

Bentley took a deep breath. "Mercedes Jones; total diva, black, good fashion sense, best friend, shopping buddy. Rachel Berry; attention whore, gets all the solos, other best friend but a pain in the ass. Santana Lopez; used to be a bitch but isn't anymore, lesbian and former cheerleader. Brittany Pierce; Santana's girlfriend, sweetest thing, will call me her 'dolphin' and not the brightest crayon in the pack," He explained the rest of the New Directions in impressive detail right down to Puck's Mohawk.

"Dad's name?"

"Burt."

"Step-mother's name?"

"Carole and I call her Carole."

"Step-brother's name?"

"Finn."

Kurt took a deep breath. "I think you're ready." He said proudly.

"As are you." Bentley said.

Suddenly, they were both tearing up and they crashed together in a spine-crushing hug, clinging to each other for dear life.

"I'm gonna miss you, Bentley." Kurt whispered into his ear, hugging him tightly.

"You, too, Kurt," Bentley returned before pulling away and looking him in th eyes. "Good luck." He said.

"Bentley?" Michael's voice called out, and Kurt's head whipped around.

"Go," Bentley said, and Kurt nodded before running off. "And text me when you get there!" Kurt heard Bentley call after him.

He met Bentley's sdoptive father at the entrance of the plane and they smiled at each other before boarding. Looking over his shoulder one last time, Kurt caught Bentley's eye, seeing his smile and thumbs-up, and Kurt did the same before hurrying after Michael.

When they sat in their seats, Kurt looked out the window and a wave of sadness washed over him. He thought about how much he was going to miss everyone, but his thoughts were cut off with ones filled with L.A. and beaches and sun.

"You okay, son?" Michael asked, his brow creased with worry.

Kurt looked over and smiled. "Yeah, dad. I'm fine," He said, looking back out the window. " Just excited to go home.

Next Episode: Kurt meets Blaine for the first time, and Bentley meets Rachel. Can you say, 'smitten?'

Please review and tell me what you thought. (: