Author's Note:

I'll try to update this story every Monday. If one day, I don't, I haven't forgotten - I just haven't had the time to finish the chapter, and you can be sure I will post it asap.

Shout-out to my wonderful beta hkvoyage : thank you for following me on this new and crazy adventure! I'm so grateful for your feedback and insights

Chapter 1: A New Client

Though Kurt hadn't gotten into NYADA, he was pretty pleased with his life right now. He'd scored an internship at Vogue, and he'd gotten into Parsons, where he was studying fashion design. He'd quit working at the Starlight Diner to become a dog walker, which paid a lot more, counted as exercise and could be combined perfectly with his studies.

The only downside was that his days started really early. He had to pick up his first doggy client at 5.30 a.m., and he'd never been a morning person. Still, he was used to Rachel's early morning hours by now. Like clockwork, she woke him up at five with her vocal exercises . At first, he'd wanted to strangle her, but now her fanatic regime came in handy to get him up and running at such an early hour.

He'd discovered dog walking when Neil, his partner for a design project, had come down with the flu, and had moaned on the phone that he was letting everyone down.

"Don't worry about me," Kurt had answered. "I'll copy my class notes for you and I'll work on the design by myself for now, and then we can develop it further when you're feeling better."

"You're an angel," Neil had sighed. "Now I only wish all the dogs I'm supposed to be walking today could walk themselves for a change. I really can't get up, my legs feel like cooked noodles."

"Wow. How many dogs do you have?"

Neil had chuckled and then coughed his head off. "They're not my dogs, I'm just walking them. It's how I make the rent. Dog owners here in NYC don't want to take their darlings to the park three times a day. And God forbid they'd have to clean up after their precious Fifi! So they hire me for that. It pays really well."

Kurt had hummed in understanding. "Hey, do you want me to walk your doggy clients for now? I'm good with dogs, I promise."

Neil had thanked him again and given him the number of the dog walker agency, and after taking over Neil's duties for a week to everyone's satisfaction, Kurt had been given his own clients.

Today, a new one had been added to the roster.

"Just for a week," Sheila had said. "His name's Devon, and he's a Portuguese water dog. You're to pick him up at six in the morning, then at twelve, and then at six again. Will that work for you? The owner paid for one-hour walks, and asked to not just walk with the dog but also run and play fetch with him. Apparently, he's very energetic, and if he doesn't get enough exercise, he chews up everything in the apartment."

Kurt had jotted the details down in his planner app, rejoicing that it was three times in one day, as well as an early bird assignment. Any walks before 8 a.m. were paid double, and before 6 a.m. even triple, so he was always glad to get those.

Kurt got up reluctantly as soon as Rachel's voice broke through his dreams. He filled a thermos with coffee, grabbed his packed breakfast and lunch from the fridge and put on his dog-walking outfit: old jeans, a warm flannel shirt and a navy parka that repelled not only water but doggy paw prints as well.

His high school self would have been appalled at his outfit choices, but Kurt had learned that practicality trumped fashion-forwardness when dealing with dogs and dirty subway trains. Anyway, at Parsons, the bar was raised so impossibly high that people looked down on him even when he wore his most fashionable outfits. A vintage McQueen shirt paired with a Marc Jacobs vest and matching pants from last season did not impress anyone. Nor did his collection of scarves and brooches. Why bother, then? The few friends he had dressed casually, like he did. And in a few years, he'd be a designer in his own right. He could go back to dressing fabulously then.

Kurt took the subway train to Lower Manhattan, eating his breakfast on the way. His first assignment was a dog that had to be walked alone. Precious was docile and sweet, but did not react well to other dogs or other people, so her walks were kept short and were scheduled early in the morning and late at night, when the streets and the park were deserted.

After bringing Precious back, he hopped on the train to the Upper East Side, where he picked up Titus, and after him Snowball and Summer.

When he arrived at the new address, the man who opened the door blinked in sleepy confusion at Kurt and the three dogs he had with him, and let out a loud sneeze when Summer started to scratch behind her ear.

Kurt introduced himself and announced that he was there to take Devon for his walk.

The man sneezed again, rubbed his eyes, blew his nose, and then called over his shoulder, "Sweetcheeks, did you order a dog walker?"

"Shoot, I forgot about that," was the answer, and a minute later, another guy hurried towards them with a black dog following him, and then overtaking him to race to Kurt and the other dogs. He came to a stop right in front of Kurt, sniffing at him and then sitting on his haunches and looking up at Kurt with a serious expression.

Kurt grinned at the dog. "I take it you are Devon, then? You ready to go out, champ? I'll have to put you on a leash, I'm afraid. You want to smell my fingers first before I touch you?"

Kurt offered his hand for Devon to sniff, and then turned it over to softly rub the dog's cheek. "What do you say? Ready to come with me on an adventure?"

Devon wuffed softly, and wagged his tail.

"I'll take that as a yes!"

Kurt got another leash out of his backpack and quickly attached it to Devon's collar. "Well, I'll be back in about an hour, then. Bye!"

"Wait!" said the second guy. "Here's the spare key. Could you, maybe, let Devon back in after your walk without ringing the bell so we can sleep some more? You'll also need the key at noon. We'll be out."

Kurt took the key and rummaged in his backpack for a permanent marker to write 'Devon' on it. Once it was on his key ring, he said "Bye!" again, and took the four dogs out of the building and two blocks away to Central Park.

Snowball, as usual, strained at his leash in his eagerness to get there, his enthusiasm so contagious that even Titus sped up. Soon, Kurt was running to keep up, and it made him chuckle. Devon, the new addition to their party, seemed to fit in well with the group, and was clearly well-trained. When Kurt commanded his charges to stop and wait to cross the street until the walk signal went on, Devon promptly sat down and waited, while the others needed to be told firmly to stop and sit at least twice more before they obeyed.

In the park, Kurt took their leashes off and let them run free for a bit, while he looked for a nice stick to play fetch with. He had a few tennis balls in his backpack, as well as a Frisbee, but he didn't know what Devon would prefer.

When he'd found a stick that would do, he let out a loud whistle to call the dogs to him. They bounded up to him with their tails wagging madly.

"Wanna play fetch? You wanna?"

Their wriggling butts showed quite clearly that yes, they wanted to play. Kurt threw two of the tennis balls in quick succession, and Snowball chased after them, barking, followed by the others. Snowball found one of the balls and brought it back to Kurt, leaving the others to squabble over the second tennis ball. Summer won that battle, and triumphantly presented her prize to Kurt, who rewarded both Snowball and Summer with an ear-rub and a dog treat.

Devon eyed the stick at Kurt's feet and tugged at it with his teeth, growling.

Kurt laughed. "You want to catch that? All right then, let go and I'll throw it!"

Kurt threw the stick, and after it both tennis balls. This time, Devon beat the others and came back with the stick, which he dropped in front of Kurt's feet. Kurt praised him, scratching gently behind his ears and offering him a treat, doing the same to the others when they brought back the tennis balls. Titus came behind, sulking. He was the slowest of Kurt's morning clients, and rarely joined in the fun and games, preferring to stick to Kurt instead to get petted, because he was always outrun anyway.

"Aww, Titus, it's not fair that your legs are so much shorter than theirs, is it? Come here, boy."

Kurt lavished attention on Titus, too, and then let the Frisbee soar. Immediately, Devon jumped after it, his body bent in a graceful arc and going higher than Kurt would have believed possible. The Portie caught the Frisbee mid-air, and proudly presented it to Kurt.

After some more throwing and fetching, Kurt put the dogs' leashes on again and walked further into the park. "Well, lady and gents, you know the drill. Make sure you pee and poo before I take you back home."

A vigorous walk later, all the dogs' business done, scooped up and discarded, Kurt dropped them off at their respective owners, and went to pick up the next lot for their walk.

By the time he arrived at school, he was hungry again, so as soon as he'd slipped into one of the back rows of the auditorium for his History of Fashion lecture, he grabbed a banana and a granola bar from his backpack and devoured them in mere seconds.

His phone pinged with a reminder that he had a second class that day. For the spring semester, he'd enrolled in an extra class, paid for by Vogue, no less. Isabelle had entrusted the accessory section of the Vogue website to him, and now he needed to brush up on his graphic design skills to make that part of the website look good.

He was really looking forward to these lessons. There were two instructors who co-taught this class, alternating weeks, and both of them had an excellent reputation. One of them was Paula Scher, a big name artist in her fifties, who wore long flowing dresses, long flowing hair and clunky glasses. The other was Blaine Anderson, a very young guy who'd won a prestigious prize when he was barely twenty, but instead of capitalising on that to make his fortune, he'd chosen to teach.

Elliott had taken Professor Anderson's Colour Theory class last semester, and raved over the guy's talent… and his looks. Apparently, he was hot, and he had "the finest ass on the planet".

Kurt had rolled his eyes at that, and quipped, "You dare to say that while I'm right here in front of you?", jokingly grinding his ass against Elliott. But it had made him curious all the same. He hoped that he'd get to check out the hot professor today.

As soon as he came into the classroom, his hopes were dashed, however. Professor Scher stood at the whiteboard, smiling at everyone who came in and using the mouse pad on her laptop to start up a slideshow.

The exercises she made them do were interesting and funny, and the time flew by. Class ran over a little, and Kurt had to hurry to get to Devon's apartment in time for his midday walk. As soon as he opened the door, Devon was there, his tail wagging like mad and his tongue hanging out in a doggie smile.

"You ready for your walk? Let's go!"