This is a pretty ridiculosly short one-shot, but I couldn't stop thinking about it and decided to take a break from the other stuff I am working on. I known I just finished a chapter for one of my other stories today, but I just couldn't get it out of my head, and I was just like, what the heck! Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS.

It was late at night. Tony opened the second drawer down on the right hand side of his desk. About twenty, perfectly crumbled balls of paper, neatly lined up, waiting to be thrown. He picked one up and eyed Ziva cautiously. He took the paper and flung it at her. She didn't even blink. So he took out another one and threw it. Same reaction. So he took out another. And he threw it. And another. And he threw it. And another. And he threw it. But this time, Ziva lifted her arm and plucked it out of the sky, glaring at him.

"Whoa!" Tony laughed, childishly. "Do that again!"

Ziva, instead threw the little paper ball back at him. Actually, she threw several back at him. Which made him want to throw them back at her. So he did. This began the vicious cycle that launched the two formerly dignified agents -OK- the one formerly dignified agent and Tony, into a ridiculous paper war.

"Will you guys stop acting like children!" McGee hiss from the other side of the bullpen.

"Oh, someone's a crabby little Probie. What's wrong, Mc-Crabby?" Tony asked.

"Unlike you, DiNozzo, I actually have work to do." McGee said. Tony stood up and circled around poor Tim like a vulture. He lifted up the paper that McGee was working on, trying to get a better idea of what it was his little Probie was doing. McGee glared at him and slid the papers away.

"You know, you're not the only writer around here." Tony chimed as he walked back to his own desk.

"Oh yeah, who else is there?" McGee asked.

"Me!" Tony smiled.

McGee and Ziva groaned.

"It's true! Yesterday, I was walking around in Wal-Mart and suddenly it hit me!" Tony exclaimed.

"What, a rotten tomato?" McGee joked. Ziva laughed.

"No, a poem." Tony said flatly.

McGee and Ziva both groaned again.

"Oh, I'm glad to know that you both want to hear it!" Tony said. He cleared his throat.

"I'm running, running, running.

They scream at me, but I can hear them.

I glance behind myself and then ahead.

I realize their mad but I don't know what I've done!

That's when it hits me:

I think they want me to get off the check-out counter."

McGee and Ziva look at him and laugh hysterically. For a long time they can't seem to find any breath to speak. Tony looked around, smugly.

"I'm pretty good, aren't I." Tony smiled.

"Oh, that is one word for it." Ziva said, choking on laughter.

Tony, stuck his tongue out at her.

"Tony, you're so immature." McGee said between deep breaths and laughter.

"Hey, I'm not inclined to resign to maturity."

"Of course you are not." Ziva said.

Suddenly, a single voice pierced through out the childish laughter. "DiNozzo, MTAC, now!" Gibbs barked. Tony nodded and ran up after him.

After he was gone, McGee and Ziva were free to speak again.

"I feel like such a yo-yo." Ziva laughed.

"You mean a, - wait, what?"

"Yes, a yo-yo. About Tony." She smiled.

"Why?"

"First I love him, then I hate him! It is like, I want to throw him off a cliff and run to the bottom and catch him!" Ziva laughed, this time, more out of exasperation.

McGee laughed too. "Wait a second. Do you-?"

"No McGee, of course not." Ziva responded. Although, she wasn't sure if she was telling the whole truth.