A/N: I really wanted to put this up, but completely forgot. Oh well. It's something I've been wanting to write for a while but didn't get the chance to.

If you can both name all the members of Seeker Squadron and then tell me which cartoon Sky references, I will give you all the internet cookies in the world.

I'll shut up now so you, dear reader, can begin.

If you likey, review. If you don't likey, review anyway. Ta ta!

Bloody Brilliant

The letter was incredibly frustrating.

There it was, sitting beside its buff-coloured envelope on her desk, positively mocking her.

Katie Holmes, to say the least, was not pleased. She blew a strand of long brown hair out of her eyes exasperatedly and re-read the letter.

Ground Controller Ms Holmes K., it began.

It has recently come to our attention that your assigned 10-man living space in Fort Bliss Air Base is under-occupied. For this reason, it has been arranged that the eight pilots of Seeker Squadron will be moved into apartment 221-B and remain there for theduration of their posting at Fort Bliss Air Base. They will be arriving at 9:00 on Tuesday 14th July. The United States Air Force thanks you in advance for your co-operation.

Katie didn't even bother to read the "yours respectfully" part. Firstly, she was very annoyed that she would have to share her barracks space with eight pilots anyway. She had specifically requested to be placed by herself for the precise reason that she didn't like people in general. And the fact she couldn't even argue with the top brass anyway didn't help.

Secondly, she was kind of insulted that they hadn't even bothered to write out an actual letter, just using a fill-in-the-blanks one as the random bits of bold type told all too clearly.

"Just bloody brilliant." she complained aloud, her Irish lilt coming out as it often did when she was frustrated.

The brunette looked at her clock angrily. It was already ten past nine, and these pilots weren't even polite enough to show up on-

Her doorbell rang, interrupting her silent rage-filled rant. Katie dragged herself off her chair, navigated past the clutter in the room – which went from copies of AIR TRAFFIC CONTROLLER MONTHLY to a green hat covered in shamrocks hiding a stash of genuine Irish whiskey – and shoved the door of flat 221B open. Katie pulled herself down the two flights of stairs to the front door, dragging her feet as much as possible – if this "Seeker Squadron" was going to be late then she was sure as hell going to make them wait outside as long as she could. She opened the door scowling, then was so surprised by what she saw that she stumbled backwards and literally fell on her arse.

The seven men and one woman looking like they'd just stepped off the set of Top Gun and into real life stared at her sitting on the doormat, before one of the men (one with scruffy black hair – and a few random purple highlights in said hair – wearing a black flight suit with more purple accents on it) let out a snort of laughter. "Best reaction ever." he said, smirking.

One of the others, with a blue flight suit and pretty much blue hair (God, what was this, Hipster Brigade?, Katie thought to herself) sighed and helped Katie to her feet. "Ignore Sky. I assume you're Ground Controller Holmes?"

Katie nodded dumbly.

"That's good. I thought for a second we were at the wrong place. This is 221B, right?" the blue one continued.

Katie nodded again.

The blue one paused. "You don't talk much, do you?"

"Oh, I do really. You're just, ah, surprising. Not to mention late." Katie replied, some of her surprise wearing off to be replaced with irritation again. "Oh well. Come in, and maybe introduce yourselves?"

The eight pilots shrugged almost in unison. "Fine." one of them said dismissively. He was standing quite regally, and his red, white and blue flight suit had epaulettes, for God's sake. His red (actually red) hair was stupidly good-looking and had, unsurprisingly, white and blue streaks through it.

Katie led the Seeker Squadron up her stairs and into the largeish apartment that was 221B, where they surveyed the room – and its assorted random crap – critically before deciding they liked it. They especially seemed interested in the Irish flag hanging on Katie's bedroom door. The black and purple one – "Sky," or something – immediately jumped into Katie's only and consequently favourite armchair and kicked his feet up on its arms. The rest arranged themselves around the living room.

"So. Who are you lot?" Katie asked, sitting down on her dilapidated sofa and crossing her arms.

The epaulette-ed one sniffed. "I am Scott. Captain Scott Shedden. And I'm the wing leader."

"Oh be nice, Scotty." Sky said. "Sky Watson's the name, sugar."

"Is Sky not a girl's name?" Katie asked, amusement leaking through her annoyance.

Sky huffed. "Of course not. Sky is an incredibly manly name. I'm pretty sure the prince of somewhere was called Sky in some TV show I once watched sometime."

The blue one waved distractedly from where he was fiddling with Katie's desk lamp, interrupting Sky's rant. "Tom Cranton. You can just call me TC if you want, Ms Holmes."

"I'd prefer Katie, if you don't mind, TC." Katie stated. "Ms Holmes makes me feel like I need a deerstalker hat and a pipe."

A man in a gold flight suit with scarily golden blonde hair took Katie's hand and shook it enthusiastically. "Sam Storm. I admire your kindness in taking us in, I really do."

Katie pulled her hand away as politely as she could and turned to the next one. He was clad in a white flight suit, and his had black accents. His hair was the same, black with large white streaks.

"Rob Jessop. Uh, I'm not with them." he said, looking left and right suspiciously.

"He's a liar. Don't listen to him." TC told Katie, over Rob's shout of "I am NOT!"

The sixth member was wearing a dark maroon-y flight suit (Katie really wondered whether this lot owned anything but flight suits), and as Katie had come to expect, his hair was dyed the same colour. "Tim Hirst." he said, squaring his shoulders aggressively. The man standing next to him rolled his eyes and elbowed Tim. "You can't fight the hostess, you moron. I'm Dirk Gently, by the way."

Katie raised her eyebrows. "Uh...ever heard of Douglas Adams?"

Dirk shook his head, a blank expression on his face. "Can't say I have. Sorry."

"Stop apologising, Dir." the only female member of Katie's new housemates said, lifting the Shamrock Hat curiously. "I'm Cindy Strennan. Friends call me Slip, because I'm good at getting out of awkward situations. You get the idea." She brushed at a lock of short purple and teal hair (her fringe cut diagonally across her face), kicked Sky's feet off the arm of the solitary chair, and perched herself on it. "So, we got rooms or anything?"

The three spare bedrooms were divided up among the pilots with remarkable speed. Scott, Sky and TC got one, Sam, Rob, Dirk, and Tim got another, and Cindy got the last one because she was "both a chick and completely homicidal", as Sky informed Katie.

Well, that was nice to know. All Katie could draw from the half-an-hour or so that she'd spent in the Squadron's presence was that Scott was cold and aloof and basically a dodgy bastard; TC was polite enough but didn't really want to talk to her; Sam was constantly complimenting everybody; Rob was a liar; Tim wanted to fight with literally everyone but backed off if any real resistance was put up; Dirk was apologetic and scared of getting hurt; Cindy was snarky and sarcastic and could somehow command Scott telepathically; and finally, Sky wouldn't stop hitting on her and kept appearing out of nowhere.

Oh, this was just absolutely bloody brilliant.