I am so sorry I'm taking forever to update. I've been really busy and haven't been able to find any good prompts. I really want to be able to update more often, but I don't know if that's going to happen. I need a really good prompt to write an entire Tiva fanfic around. If you have any ideas you wouldn't mind sharing, please throw it out there. I'll be more than happy to credit you.

Anyway, here's a probably shorter update because I really want to update and I have twenty minutes before I need to go sell duct tape (for a fundraiser, not just because).

*****

The squad room was dead silent. Ziva was the only one there at the moment, as Gibbs had gone for coffee, Tony had gone for a shower, McGee had gone for Chinese, and everyone else had gone home for the night.

It was nice.

Seeing as there was no one to breathe down the back of her neck, Ziva pushed back from her desk, put her feet up, and leaned as far back as she could without fear of tipping.

Ah, yes. This was the life.

She finally understood why Tony was constantly putting his feet up on his desk, why Gibbs was always leaning back in his chair after wrapping up a long case.

It just felt so dang good.

She sat like that for a few minutes (although it felt waaaay longer because of the strange silence) and then straightened up. She was already bored.

What to do, what to do?

She could pull a prank on Tony. That was always fun. But what could she do to him? She didn't have much time, so it would have to be quick and easy.

She got up and wandered over to his desk, just poking around his things. What could she do...?

Her eyes fell on his chair. That was the best way to ensure he walked into her trap. He'd have no reason to be suspicious of his chair.

Ziva had no expert knowledge when it came to the workings of a desk chair, so she merely got down on her hands and knees and fiddled with the underside until it seemed wobbly. She loosened a few screws and was about to test it when she heard someone coming.

She hurried back to her chair and resumed typing, trying to pretend she'd never stopped.

His hair was spiked up, probably from a quick towel-dry, and his clothes were wrinkled from having been in a desk drawer for who knows how long.

"Is McGee back yet?" Tony asked.

"Does it look like McGee is back?" she replied.

He mimicked her in that annoying baby voice as he approached his desk. "Okay, well, I'm really hungry."

"Have a Snickers."

He frowned. "Are you trying to say something, Ziva?"

She shrugged. "You are not you when you are hungry."

"You took that right out of the stupid commercial."

"Maybe I did."

He sighed and walked behind his desk to sit down.

Ziva held her breath, but she may as well not have because nothing happened.

He sat down and nothing happened. The chair didn't tip over, didn't fall to pieces, didn't even wobble any more than usual.

What. The. Heck.

Of course, she couldn't do anything about it, because then he would know that she tried to prank him. Unless he already knew, and that was why the prank didn't work?

No. There was no way he could've know that she messed with his chair, no way he could've escaped it.

She didn't understand.

Within a few minutes, Gibbs and McGee came back. The chair still hadn't collapsed.

McGee divvied the food, and Ziva kept an eagle eye on Tony's chair. Surely something had to happen.

But nothing happened.

Not while they ate, not while they returned to their paperwork, not even when Tony got bored and started to spin in his chair.

The only thing that happened was a loud, continuous squeak.

After a minute or so, Tony stopped spinning and looked down at his chair, a confused look on his face.

"What?" McGee asked.

"My chair's never squeaked before." He shrugged and started spinning again.

Gibbs sighed but didn't say anything.

Ziva let it go for a good ten minutes before it started to really grate on her nerves. "Do you have to do that?"

"I have to sit in my chair, yes."

Of course her little prank had to backfire on her.

"Do you have to spin?" McGee asked, clearly also annoyed. "The chair only squeaks when you spin."

"It's not my fault the chair started squeaking." Tony spun around a few more times, squeaking like a rat trapped in a garbage disposal, until finally Ziva had had enough.

"Okay, stop it," she said. "Tony, stop."

He stopped and frowned at her.

"It is my fault your chair is squeaking. I tried to break your chair and it did not work."

Tony burst out laughing. "Niiice, Ziva. Nice. Nice try."

"Make it stop squeaking."

"You're the one who broke it."

"But I did not actually break it. Otherwise you would on the floor."

"Well, either you can try to make it stop squeaking, or it will squeak forever."

That was a terrifying thought.

She quickly got up and walked over to his desk. "Get up."

He obliged, taking his drink with him over to her desk.

She fiddled with the pieces underneath for a moment before sitting down in his chair to try it out.

Without any warning, she and the chair crashed to the floor. She swore but couldn't even hear herself over the sound of the boys laughing.

"Karma," Tony said, still laughing.

*****

Sorry. That's all I got.