Started my daily ficlets to make the hiatus pass, then decided to keep going with a 2nd cycle, and then a 3rd, 4th, etc through 61st cycle. Now cycle 62!

TOP 15 COUNTDOWN - Something I do once in a while, if you will recall, where I take my favorite characters, ships, friendships, series (from my daily stories) and put them in order, the number 1 of which gets a seven-chapter story in the end :)
Coming in at number 1: Brittany S. Pierce

"Flight of the Days"
Brittany, Santana, Brittany/Santana
Boston Britt series
(all series now listed under the communities tab in my profile)

1. Thursdays

On the refrigerator door, they had stuck two calendar sheets, covered in multi-colored writing, one for each of them. It was necessary, to keep tabs on where each of them needed to be on any given day, or else they would never have been able to keep it all straight. This was the price they had to pay, for Operation New York City. They needed money, so they had to work, as much as they could. This meant one odd job here, one odd job there…

Now that they both had their GEDs, it had opened up their schedules enough to fill them in money-earning. It had all been about wasting no time. No matter how crazy it could be at the moment, it would be worth it the day they could say goodbye to Boston and start their lives where they wanted to be.

Santana had five jobs. She was a nanny on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday mornings, a dog walker on Tuesday and Thursday mornings, a waitress on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday afternoons, a Spanish tutor on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons and Saturday mornings, and, thanks to a fake ID, a bartender on Friday and Saturday nights. Brittany also had five. She was also a nanny, only on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday mornings, a dog walker on Saturday afternoons, an office clerk on Thursday afternoons, a waitress on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday afternoons, and, thanks to Santana's advice, a dance teacher on Tuesday afternoons and Friday and Saturday mornings. They both had Sundays off.

Dog Thursday Morning was one of Brittany's favorites, which Santana could have guessed solely from how anxious she would be for them to leave the apartment. She'd practically urge her to finish her breakfast as soon as possible so they could head out and pick up the dogs from their respective homes.

Santana had three of them to get on Thursdays. Pippy belonged to a little girl, and if he'd had any say in the name he would receive, the massive dog might have lobbied for something else. Dexter's owner always had this air about him that made her wonder if perhaps he was way too much of a fan of the TV serial killer. Her favorite was probably Waldo, small and loud; she could appreciate that. The three of them together could be a handful and an unruly bunch, especially next to Brittany's very well-mannered quartet. There was Ginger, dubbed the sweetest and cuddliest, and Santana knew this one was Brittany's favorite. Buzz was not the youngest of dogs, but he could keep up with the best of them. Brittany would imagine that once upon a time he had been a racing dog. The last two, Sonny and Cher, both belonged to their boss at the diner. Brittany was convinced they were brother and sister, although after seeing what they would get up to, Santana had renamed them Jaime and Cersei. Brittany had not known why at first, which had led to Santana repurposing their next Day Off Sunday for a Game of Thrones marathon.

That day, Waldo's leash had snapped as they were walking through the park, and the little thing had scampered off.

"What do we do?" Brittany gasped, looking to Santana.

"Here, take them," she passed her the other two leashes before running after him. "Waldo, stop!" she called out to him. If he made it to the street, he could slip away from her, he could get hit by a car… She wasn't going to let that happen. So she sped up, trying to catch up to him. That tiny dog was fast, but his legs were that as well. She had a longer span, and she could get to him, she could…

A woman with a stroller had come out of nowhere and Santana had swerved out of her path, which had caused her to trip and hit the ground.

"Ow…" she breathed. A few seconds later, she felt what she guessed was Waldo's front paws, climbed up on her stomach. He barked, and she groaned. "I thought we were friends, Wally," she chuckled, then winced. "Ow…" she cried and laughed.

"Santana, you okay?" she could hear Brittany and she turned her head, seeing the blonde dash up with the six dogs.

"I think just a few scrapes, and I'll be sore a while, but I'll survive," she slowly got up, keeping a hold on Waldo so he wouldn't run off again. "Good thing I'm not due for a standing job today."

"Give him to me, I'll get them through the rest and take them home."

"Are you sure? Wait, you and seven dogs, of course you'll be fine," Santana breathed, and Brittany grinned. "No, but I need to walk it off anyway. Come on."

The rest of the walk had been slower, but they had finished their time, returning the dogs to their respective owners. When they had gone back to the apartment, Brittany had patched her up before heading to her office job. Most of the time she only had to print out labels and stick them on envelopes, distribute mail… She liked it just fine, though she was certainly glad it was once a week.

Santana had borrowed some ice once she'd gotten to her afternoon job. She'd been tutoring Sarah and Maya for a few weeks now. The two girls, ten-year-old twins, were home schooled, and had declared that their favorite part of the week was when Santana came to teach them. She had to admit she hadn't wanted to embark on this particular job at first. But this was an asset she had, and not using it would have been wrong, especially with what they were both trying to achieve. So she had taken it.

She was nearly done with her session that day when the doorbell rang and Maya ran off to answer, returning with Brittany on her heel.

"What are you doing here?" Santana smiled, surprised.

"I thought I'd walk you home, after what happened this morning." Once they'd left, Brittany had insisted for Santana to hold on to her arm.

"I can walk, you know?" Santana told her, though she wasn't really complaining.

"I do. But I'm taking care of you. Tomorrow's Friday, you're going to need to be as rested as possible."

"Don't remind me…" Santana breathed.

"Relax, I've got you."

TO BE CONTINUED (TOMORROW)