Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS or CBS, or KitKats, or ipods, or the guy on the most wanted wall. (really sorry if that offends anyone by the way, I don't mean it!)

Hi :)

Sorry, it's been more of a while since updates, but like my profile says you can never count on me being consistent, especially with revision and all that. Thanks for all the reviews and hits - 990, best ever, so maybe see if we can reach 1K this time? :D but seriously, thanks to everyone.

Enjoy!

2:00pm.

"Ah, revenge is sweet." Rick smiled and leaned back in his chair as his voice moved over the partition. "Did you hear, the two randy idiots from MCRT got the job of cleaning their boss' desk?"

Jackson didn't look away from her computer. "Tales of your evil deeds do not interest me, Trockie."

Having finished the mound of correction-paperwork that was dumped on him the previous day, Rick was in an annoyingly good mood, at least according to his co workers. He'd spent the entire morning attempting, and failing, to hum the theme tune to Mission Impossible. The whole floor was now on the verge of setting fire to his cubicle, including him and his ipod speakers, and Agent Jackson in the cubicle next to him was desperately trying to control the reflex she knew as the "fist of death" that currently seemed to be heading uncontrollably towards Rick's skull.

"Hey, remember earlier when we were talking about Brad Pitt? Sometimes I like to think of myself as more of a Tom Cruise. Or maybe....who was that guy in the film who killed that other guy?"

Zach swirled in his chair and craned his neck to glare over the partition.

"Oh, I don't know, Rick. Maybe you could look it up? Maybe you could put some earphones in? Maybe you could stitch your lips together? Maybe you could remove your voicebox? You see, all these things would help people, instead of what you're doing now. In America, we call it being an irritating ass."

Rick smiled at the attention he was getting. Despite his friends' sarcasm, nothing could bother him today. The sky was blue, birds were singing, his newfound enemies were scrubbing at some desk somewhere under the watchful eye of their boss. There was only one thing that could make this day better.

Candy.

"Hey grump twins. Wanna pay a visit to the fabled vending machines of yonder down the corridor?"

They both instantly swept up from their chairs, ecstatic to have a break from the mindless repetitive tasks that made up a case-less day of analysis. Rick grinned contently as Jackson and Zach followed him down the corridor, and they passed a couple of agents gossiping about the events of the past few days. It was like being a celebrity – people knew it was him who had posted the infamous clip on Facebook, people knew that they had been assigned to cleaning Gibbs' desk, people looked to him for information.

"Rick?"

He snapped out of his dreamy trance and looked at Jackson. "Yeah?"

"You wanted candy, you gonna get candy or what?"

Rick laughed and slid fifty cents into the machine, which delivered a KitKat in response. They ate and bantered, Zach and Jackson suffering the annoying satisfaction of their friend, and occasionally stopping to listen or to notice other agents discussing past events. Eventually Jackson went to sit down with some of the well-known gossip queens of analysis, and Zach awkwardly declared that he wanted to "get some work done" and left back to the cubicles. Rick was left to ponder the brilliance of his revenge plan, and also the brilliance of his life in general.

There wasn't much.

"Hey Angelina."

Jackson glared at him from her table while her friends awwed.

"I'm heading back to the cubicles. Care to accompany me?"

She narrowed her eyes and grinned sarcastically, but followed him back to the cubicles, deciding that an afternoon spent listening to happy ramblings was more exciting than having to make up more interesting stories about her co-workers.

"You know, maybe I should become an actor. I have all the necessary qualities. Charming. Interesting. Attractive, of course."

Jackson smiled. "Haha. That's funny, Rick!" She didn't look at her seat as she sat down and turned on her computer.

Rick sat down idly and opened his email.

To: Rick Trocker, Analysis; Xanthe Jackson, Analysis

From: Anonymous

Rick and Xanthe,

I'd like you to meet me in my office.

It was signed off by his boss, and he heard Jackson sigh as she opened it too.

"What the hell could we have done to upset the pointy-haired boss now?"

"If it's about those case reports, I did not write that bit about the watermelon holding a gun." Rick kept up his smirk. "You know what, I don't even care. Nothing can ruin my mood."

He got up.

His smile deflated as the chair came with him.

"What the hell?!"

Rick stumbled back to sitting on the chair. Several times he tried to push himself up off it, before realisation dawned on his face. His colleagues bit back giggles as he realised that the seat of his pants had been attached, by what means he didn't know, to the seat of the chair. Despairing, and trying to consider any possible escapes that wouldn't result in him losing some or all of his pants, he heard his computer bing and opened his mail, to receive an email from one Anthony DiNozzo. It consisted of a giant picture of – much to Rick's horror and understanding – a bottle of superglue, and some text. Rick felt his hands bunch into fists, and he read the words:

Ah Rick. My partner and I loved your little rumour joke, as did, as I'm sure you're aware, our boss. I hope you like ours. We'll keep up with the superglue, plus some of my partner's surprise ninja tricks, each day until you email our boss telling him that you did it. P.S. don't think we let your little gossip-spreading friend off the hook, either.

Tony's words were verified as Rick heard his partner swear conspicuously and her wheely chair creaked.

"That DiNozzo! RICK!"

He cowered under the partition.

"Um...yeah?"

"You are dead, Trocker. How am I supposed to work like this? How can I walk around? I don't have a spare skirt! I'll be the laughing stock of every single agent in this damned place!" She started throwing pieces of blutack over the partition at him, and it hurt surprisingly more than Rick had imagined. "If it wasn't for you and your stupid childish revenge mission then I would never have been freaking stuck to the chair! This skirt was new! And now it's gonna have to be ripped into shreds! I'm going to have to walk around NCIS in freaking pantyhose! The perverts from financial are going to have a field day!"

Rick's eyes grew wide as he saw the ominously doom-inducing sight of his boss storming down the stairs, proceeding to glower at him and Jackson.

"Didn't you two get my email? You have five minutes to get into my office and to get your butts off those chairs."

Unbeknownst to him, this was harder for them than it sounded.

Rick went bright red, and started to desperately consider his options. Just to worsen the situation, his stressball suddenly exploded due to the current pressure it was under and sand flew all over his desk.

His eyes narrowed.

"This means war."

*~*~*

2:52pm.

"Boss, where are Tony and Ziva?"

Silence. He felt the "I'm-pretending-to-work-here" vibe coming off Gibbs, at least until his phone pierced the uncomfortable hush in the bullpen with jazz music.

"Tony?"

"McGoo! How's life back on the floor of no social life? Tell the boss that me and Ziva are going to be upstairs in about 5 minutes." He heard Ziva whisper "10 minutes" in a low voice in the background, and shuddered.

"All right, Tony, but better not make it any longer than that. I...uh..." he turned away from Gibbs and covered his mouth. "I don't think Gibbs really wants to wait."

"That I don't, McGee. And you can tell DiNozzo that he and his partner's business can end now if he doesn't want to answer to Vance about why no other agent in NCIS will now use the break room for what it's supposed to be used for." McGee shrunk under his boss' sarcasm. "And also don't forget to remind him that he's due up here in 8 minutes or it's gonna be desk cleaning fun for the two of them for the rest of the afternoon."

"Just...don't be long, DiNozzo." The hang up tone came from the other end of the phone and he sighed. "They're going at it like freaking bunnies."

Five minutes later he heard laughs coming from the Most Wanted Wall. He assumed it wasn't the laughs of Bin Laden, and his assumptions proved right when his co-workers walked into the boardroom and attempted to wipe the village-missing-a-couple-of-idiots smiles off their faces. They stood obediently in front of Gibbs' desk and Ziva adopted a formal tone.

"We have found out who had started the rumour, Gibbs." She said, tactfully leaving out the part about pulling an equally embarassing revenge prank. "You should receive an email in a few minutes concerning who is responsible."

They happily sat at their desks and it seemed like the whole bullpen was waiting in awkward silence for Gibbs' famous expression to change.

Bing.

Tony saw his partner lean back innocently to try and read what was in the email. He thanked Mossad for her training as she smiled and mouthed to him: "Worked like a pendant."

He rolled his eyes and mouthed back, "Charm. Worked like a charm."

Their silent conversation was cut short as Gibbs rose up off his chair to get the traditional 3:00 refill.

"Got a case. Tony, Ziva, want you to go down to Abby and get the guy's name. McGee, with me. Gear up, I'll be back in five minutes."

McGee stretched and yawned, switching off his monitor and starting to shove things into his backpack.

"Thank God. I've been sitting here all day. Feels like my butt's stuck to this chair."

Tony grinned at his partner.

"Oh McGoo, I'm sure there are people in worse situations right now."

So, interdepartmental war! I'm not sure about how i'm going to end this, seeing as it was originally a one shot that's sort of progressed, but if you have any ideas then just PM or anything. I'll come up with something XD

Lotts xx