It had been a quiet December 1st in the bullpen so far. Granted, it was six-thirty in the morning and the bullpen usually wasn't a flurry of activity so early, but the peace and quiet was relaxing to say the least. Reid had already managed to complete three of his consultations with other police departments, steadily working down the pile he'd been procrastinating doing for almost two days. One of his contacts itched slightly from in his eye, and he made a mental note to fix it as soon as he finished the file he was working on. The quiet continued for another glorious ten minutes before a faint jingling sound came from the kitchen.

Oh no.

Someone in the office was holding a box full of Christmas decorations. Christmas decorations that did not, under any circumstances, belong in the bullpen.

As soon as Reid fixed his contacts, he would put an end to their unwelcome Christmas spirit.

o o o

The box Morgan was carrying jingled with each step he took. As he entered the kitchenette he paused for a second to fix himself a cup of coffee with one arm.

"What are you doing?" came a sudden voice from behind. Morgan whirled around and saw Reid leaning against the door with his arms crossed, effectively blocking Morgan's access to the bullpen. He breathed a sigh of relief, visibly relaxing.

"Putting Christmas decorations on everyone's desks. Standard Christmas-time practice. Why?" Morgan shifted the box in his hands, beginning to feel the strain on his arms.

"Last time I checked, Hotch didn't want any Christmas merchandise at work. Something about it being unprofessional and distracting."

"First of all, Christmas cheer, not Christmas merchandise. You make it sound like a corporate holiday."

"It is a corporate holiday."

Morgan shrugged, shifting the box's weight once more. "Whatever, man. He gave me half an hour to set all this up, no more. Besides, I've gotta get it done before seven so it's a surprise to everyone."

"Whatever." Reid rolled his eyes and shouldered past Morgan to the coffee pot. "Just skip my desk, would you? Christmas isn't really my thing."

"Pretty Boy, Christmas is everyone's thing."

"Only 45% of the world's entire population celebrate Christmas. That's less than half," Reid clarified, raising his eyebrows.

"Then they're missing out, because Christmas is great. Why wouldn't you want to celebrate Christmas?" Morgan joked. He was kidding, but Reid rolled his eyes even harder.

"Now you're just ignorant. Whatever part of your crappy Christmas crackers touch my desk, you're not getting back." Reid suddenly cringed, putting a hand up to his eye. "My contacts. Ow. Ow. Ow!" he shrieked,

Morgan snickered. "Seems like your contacts disagree with your opinions on Christmas, kid."

Reid glared at him spitefully, one eye watering painfully. "No one gives a damn," he muttered, heading quickly towards the bathroom.

o o o

When Reid came back from the bathroom, he'd fixed his contacts enough to see the giant Christmas tree sitting right next to his desk. His eye twitched, prompting his contacts to start stinging again. "Morgan!" he yelled, wincing as he growled in frustration and hastily popped the offending contact out. "What is this?" he said as he gestured to the Christmas tree.

"A Christmas tree," Morgan frowned, walking over. "What, have your contacts made you blind now?"

"I said I didn't want anything Christmas-related near my desk - oh hell no. What's that on the top of the tree?" Reid raised his eyebrows and pointed to the ornament sitting precariously at the very top of the tree. Made out of white and black paper and brown string, the sculpture featured two men, one pasty white and the other with darker skin, the pasty white man wrapping his arms around the other man. A big smile drawn on in whiteboard marker adorned his face.

Morgan grinned. "That's us, Pretty Boy! I'm pretty proud I made that in the ten minutes you were gone. I think it belongs in an art gallery. It really is a piece of work."

"Your face is a piece of work," Reid muttered, sitting down at his desk and trying to avoid the massive green elephant standing next to his desk. "This isn't a real Christmas tree, right? Because I'm allergic."

Morgan paused. "Um."

Reid's eyes widened as he quickly stood and backed away from the tree. "Take it away then, you idiot - argh, my other contact!" he snarled,

"Is it the contacts or just the allergy?"

"Probably both," Reid cringed. "Seriously, put that thing back where it came from or so help me-"

"I meant your allergy to fun, not the Christmas tree. Which is great, by the way."

"Get it out!" Reid shrieked, picking up a stack of papers and flinging them at Morgan. "Why would anyone even buy a real Christmas tree? So you can smell the pine-ness? Go out into the street and smell a pinecone! They're goddamn everywhere at this time of year anyway, you shouldn't have any problems just finding one!"

"Okay, okay!" Morgan sighed, picking up the Christmas tree and hauling it over to the other side of the bullpen. "I'll put it in Hotch's office. He won't mind."

"As long as it's nowhere near me," Reid muttered, popping out his other contact. He squinted. "Morgan, pass me my glasses."

"Your what?" Morgan called out from Hotch's office. "Your asses?"

"Glasses, my glasses!" Reid yelled in frustration. "I can't see a thing!"

"Glasses? They're on your desk!"

"I can't see my desk!" Reid shrieked.

"Looking for these?" came a voice fro behind him. JJ stood there, Reid's glasses case held in her hand.

Reid cleared his throat. "Yes. Thank you. Someone around here knows how to treat their friends around here."

JJ raised an eyebrow. "Morgan being a dick?"

"Morgan's always a dick."

o o o

It had only been twenty minutes since the Christmas tree debacle when Morgan returned with another box.

"Merry Christmas!" he cheered with an exaggerated smile, handing Reid a small Christmas card. Reid took it reluctantly and examined it.

"Oh, that's cute. The Lord of Capitalism and the Subordinate Clauses are all posing for a photo. And the slave-driver himself is holding the camera. I believe this is what people call a 'selfie'. And the joke is funny because Santa Claus is a traditionally old-fashioned figure who historically doesn't engage in such activities as the act of taking a sel-"

"When you put it like that, you kind of suck the fun out of the joke."

Reid smiled sweetly. "I know."

"Hey, I put effort into decorating this place this morning!" Morgan protested. "You could at least say thank you."

"You bought this for two dollars at Walmart. Along with nineteen other identical cards."

"Not true!"

"Really?"

"Yeah, the colours on the other ones are different. See, JJ's card is yellow, and yours is blue!"

"That wouldn't matter to someone with tritanopia. Blue-yellow colourblindness," Reid added when faced with Morgan's blank stare."

"Which nobody here has. Now you're just nitpicking," Morgan argued, crossing his arms.

Someone behind Morgan and Reid tapped them each on the shoulder. "Nitpicking what?" Kate asked, settling in at her desk as if there wasn't a rope of tinsel wrapped around it like a snake.

"Reid's whining about Christmas," Morgan explained, smirking triumphantly when Kate frowned.

"Why? Christmas is fun. You get stuff. For free!" she replied.

Reid's mouth twisted. "Yeah, you get free stuff. But you also have to buy other people stuff. And when you actually give people gifts, they always give you something better and more expensive in return. I always end up going, 'Oh wow, you got me a DVD player, thank you! I got you a Target coupon.' And then there's the people who say, "You don't have to get me anything, as long as we spend Christmas together!' No. You want me to buy you things. That's all you care about."

"Do you really get people Target coupons for Christmas?" Kate asked incredulously, before being interrupted by Hotch clearing his throat from in front of his office.

"Morgan, did you put this Christmas tree up in my office?" he asked with his usual stoic expression.

Morgan gulped. "Reid wouldn't let me have it out here," he started, "since he's allergic."

"Really?" Hotch smiled thinly. "What a coincidence. So am I."

o o o

A/N: No, I don't like Christmas. Why do you ask?

This will be updated at random intervals until Christmas, although I can't promise anything because I'm not sure my Christmas-abhorring heart can handle it.

Reviews are cherished, adored, and kept close to my heart, opposite the part that hates Christmas. Thank you for reading!