A/N: I swear, I haven't forgotten this fic. Your reviews keep me writing though, so keep them coming! Fourteen more to go. Yes!
Rule Thirty-Seven: Instruction manuals are not the enemy.
"You know Ziva, they made instruction manuals for a reason."
A glaring Ziva looked up from her new phone. "I can dismantle, repair and reassemble a Tavor Assault Rifle in less than ten minutes - without a manual. I should not need one to program my cell phone either."
Tim shrugged and continued on to his desk. "Suit yourself."
Ten minutes later, and still no progress on her phone, Tony sauntered in. "What's up Ziva?"
"I am attempting to program my new cell phone. Why?"
"Use the manual it came with. Helps me." When Ziva looked up to Tony with a glare that could peel the orange paint off the walls, Tony squeaked and scuttled off to his desk.
"I do not need instructions for this." The slight rolling hiss of her words would have been funny if she wasn't angry. Neither of her packmates gainsaid her though, knowing she'd do something nasty in retaliation if they did.
But their Alpha wasn't so lucky as he stepped off the elevator and briskly walked to their part of the office. Even before Jethro opened his mouth, Ziva cut him off. "Do not ask what I am doing."
Jethro shrugged. "I know what you're doing. Gonna say you should remember Rule Thirty Seven though." Grinning as he walked past to his desk, he added, "Or ask Tim. He'd help."
Ziva slammed the phone on her desk, frustrated. "I do not need help!"
"With a bark like that, you're starting to sound like the Boss." Tony quipped.
Tony was smart enough to duck when Ziva threw her phone at his head.
End.