Tim is quite certain that hoping for a case makes him a not-so-good person since a case would mean someone had died. He's also pretty sure that no one would blame him once he told them why. The problem can be summed up in a single word: Tony. It's not that Tim doesn't like Tony, because he does! Really! He admires Tony and knows he has a lot to learn from him as an investigator and as an agent in general.

While Tim is fully aware that he wouldn't have said the same thing not all that long ago, that's not how he feels anymore. Certainly not after Vance split up the team in his stupid mole hunt. (Not that Tim would ever say that out loud! He's pretty sure criticizing Vance would either get him punched in the face or demoted.) Serving as Gibbs' SFA while they were still waiting to get Tony back opened Tim's eyes to just how horrible he'd been as Tony's SFA. Tony had put up with more insubordination, disrespect, and just plain bad attitude from Ziva and him than Tim wanted to remember.

Tim is ecstatic to have Tony back and doubts that will ever change. Despite what Vance keeps saying about Tim being the kind of agent NCIS needs, he is perfectly happy to have Tony in the SFA position. Tim has told anyone who questioned his shift back to regular agent that having a degree from Johns Hopkins doesn't make him a good investigator. Tim has a lot to learn before he'd even be willing to try to step into Tony's shoes again. Tim even managed to say all that to Tony himself… after he'd stuttered out an apology for the way he'd acted previously.

So, yeah. Tim likes Tony just fine most of the time. It's only times like now when the team has been working cold cases for over a week that Tim has to fight the urge to bang his head on his cubicle wall. Tony's worst personality trait is that, when bored, he tends to turn into the Cheshire cat from Alice in Wonderland. (Not literally, of course. The thought that Tony might ever gain the ability to turn himself invisible is enough to give Tim nightmares. The pranks would never end!) To make matters worse, Vance has had Gibbs in MTAC for the majority of the time, and Tim is crap at helping Tony curb his enthusiasm, as it were.

Truthfully, Tony is naturally inclined to joke and prank, but he usually keeps everything pretty harmless. The more bored Tony is, the more likely he is to do something with a less innocent purpose. While Normal-Tony has a normal, predictable personality (give or take some over-the-top flirting and too-frequent movie references), Bored-Tony gradually becomes less so. Bored-Tony chained to a desk for more than a day or two leapfrogs from normal directly to Cheshire cat mode – beguiling, irritating, amusing, frustrating, yet charismatic and helpful when the mood strikes.

It's not even noon yet on Thursday, but Tony has managed to wrap Ziva's mouse entirely in raw bacon already, resulting in an epic tirade in Hebrew that Tim is glad he couldn't understand. The bacon is gone now and the mouse thoroughly cleaned, but Ziva is still sitting at her computer, snarling unhappily while she works to close the more than three hundred windows Tony opened when Ziva made the mistake of walking away without locking her computer. It's taking longer than normal because her desktop screen is flipped upside-down, and her mouse goes right when it should go left and vice-versa. (Tim will never admit that he was the one who taught Tony how to do that.)

Tony has only played two pranks on Tim so far this morning, which makes him wary of what the senior agent might be plotting. The first prank Tim discovered by sitting down in his chair that morning. The resulting air horn blast could have been worse if Tim hadn't decided to use the restroom just before going to his desk. Still, it wasn't superglue, and Tim is learning to be grateful for the small things. He calls it as The Power of Positive Thinking: The Surviving DiNozzo Version.

The second prank was an old standby: soap in Tim's coffee. He isn't sure how Tony managed it since Tim thought he was keeping a vigilant watch. Tim sighs and manfully ignores the delicious scent of caramel and almond drifting up from the trash where the tainted coffee ended up.

This late in the week, Tony has started expanding his activities beyond his own time, for which Tim is grateful. Working with Bored-Tony on various occasions has taught Tim that misery, like joy, should be shared. Currently, Balboa's cubicle is completely plastered with photos that look like they were copied from a yearbook or something similar. From the bowl cut to the geeky glasses and braces, Tim thinks Balboa must have been in junior high. The agent has a good sense of humor, and his team will think it's hilarious, so no big deal.

Agent Jardine is still out with her team, but Tim doesn't expect her to be as laid back when she discovers that Tony has replaced the hand sanitizer in her Germ-X bottle with K-Y jelly – the warming kind. On his way to the break room, Tim actually catches Tony mid-refill but notes the Cheshire-cat grin and immediately decides discretion is the better part of valor, and he should keep moving. If Tim catches Tony's gaze a few minutes later in the breakroom, and they share an amused, knowing look along with the Nutter Butter Tim bought…. Well, that has absolutely nothing to do with anything. Really.

The most exasperating thing about Tony this week is that, between pranks, he has managed to figure out a new angle, follow the lead, and close one of his cold cases. The arrest, confession, and paperwork are all finished, with very little help from Tim or Ziva. If they don't end up with a new case, Tim plans to ask Tony to work with him on his own cold cases. He thinks there has to be a method Tony can show him that will help him make connections even if investigation never will be instinctual for him the way it is for Tony.

On the short walk back to his desk, Tim notes that Ramirez's cubicle has been decorated with multiple rainbows, an 11x14" poster of Ellen Degeneres, another of Neil Patrick Harris, and a banner proclaiming "Friendship Is Magic!" Tim snickers and keeps walking. Ramirez just happens to be a racist, misogynistic, homophobe, and Tim can't even pretend he's not going to enjoy watching the fallout. If they're lucky, Ramirez's head will explode, and decent people won't have to work with the jerk ever again.

He messages Abby so they can make sure the footage of the cubicle being decorated mysteriously disappears, yet the impending explosion will be recorded from multiple security cameras. Ramirez's reaction is everything Tim could have hoped for, and he makes a mental note to buy a six-pack of Tony's favorite beer to take over the next time they have a movie night.

When they get back from lunch, Gibbs is actually at his desk. He pins each of them with a look that makes it clear he knows exactly what's been going on in his absence. Tim is sort of relieved because he was concerned Tony would lose his mind and do something to the Boss's area – hence his wishing for a case earlier. On the other hand, the less tense atmosphere is totally gone, and he isn't sure if Tony will continue to help him with the cold cases. Tim found the coaching very helpful and already has a couple leads he plans to check out, but that kind of coaching-slash-teamwork isn't something Gibbs tends to encourage.

As it happens, Tim doesn't have a chance to find out because Gibbs' phone rings. He grunts a couple times and hangs up.

"Grab your gear; we got a body."

"Oh, thank God!" Tim exclaims before he can censor himself. He cringes as Gibbs shoots him a narrow-eyed look and Ziva says something Tim doesn't quite catch. Probably a good thing.

Tony chuckles and slaps him on the shoulder as they hurry toward the elevator. "Don't sweat it, Probie." His gaze flicks to Ramirez's cubicle and back again. "You know I won't let either of them drive. We'll get there just fine."

Tim smirks, understanding immediately that Tony is talking about far more than just getting to the crime scene. "Oh, I know. On your six…."

Tim knows Tony hears the implied "boss" exactly as he intended, and he sees Tony's lips curl upward in that Cheshire-cat grin once more just as the elevator doors close.