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The Prettiest Sight to See

"But….Garcia, I never agreed to this!" Spencer Reid sputtered, his blonde head shaking belligerently back and forth as he took a step back from the single-minded technical analyst and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Now, my little Genius, we can do this the easy way, or, we can make this into a thing," Penelope Garcia replied sweetly, cocking her head as she narrowed her eyes on the obstinate man standing before you.

"Absolutely not!" Reid denied, resolved in his decision. He was a grown man. A fully functional, free-thinking adult with the right to make his own choices. He would not be bullied. Not even by a determined she-cat sporting a quickly escalating feral look in her eye. Not this time. He had his principles.

"It's a simple request, Lovebug."

"Endearments will not sway my decision," he retorted, his chin lifting defiantly as a shiver of unease slid down his spine when she took a step closer.

Penelope narrowed her eyes as she responded with a growl, "We had an agreement, Doctor Strangelove."

"And I've upheld my end of the bargain. I have neither confirmed nor denied our godson's belief in the Santa myth. I have in no way dispelled his Christmas spirit. I have…"

"What you haven't done is taken your turn in that damn red suit, Beanpole," David Rossi stated gruffly from his position near the coffeepot in the corner of the FBI break room.

"Nor shall I." Reid shook his head. It simply wasn't happening. There was no way he was going to betray his beliefs and cram himself in that stinky, hot red suit.

"We've all taken our turn at playing St. Nick, Reid," Aaron Hotchner reminded the younger man patiently with a steady look. "The children, including Henry and Jack, are expecting Santa Claus to be in the Bullpen in an hour. You wouldn't want to disappoint all those innocent young minds."

"You mean the minds that are being deceived in the biggest lie ever told?" Reid snorted as he glared at his unit chief. "We're cultivating a myth, people!"

"Pretty Boy, one way or another you're gonna go into the jolly red suit," Derek Morgan sighed from his position beside Rossi. "Either you can man up and do it willingly, or Baby Girl is gonna insist I cram you in it, and that's just gonna be unpleasant for us both."

Pressing his lips together in an unforgiving line as he gazed around the room at the unyielding faces staring at him, Spencer barely resisted the urge to yowl his frustration.

"How can you even think about disappointing Jack and Henry, Reid?" Emily Prentiss' dismayed voice asked from her position against the door.

"I'm not! Any of you could do this," Reid replied, edging around the table only to find Jennifer Jareau planted firmly in his way.

"My son is expecting to see The Man in Red, Spence," JJ informed him narrowly. "Now that can occur in that suit," - she nodded to the Santa uniform Penelope held - "Or it can happen covered in your blood. Which would you rather?"

"Neither," Reid almost whimpered as he reversed directions, taking a step backward. Perhaps logic would appeal to the keen minds surrounding him. "Look at me, guys," he said, affecting a model's pose, shoulders back, chin high. "Does this honestly look like the physique of any Santa you've ever seen?"

"Boy," Penelope ground out, "Who has his your ho ho ho held hostage?"

"Seriously, Garcia!" Reid begged. "Let's be rational here. Proverbially, isn't Santa's belly supposed to shake like a bowl full of jelly?" he asked desperately, his agitated eyes bouncing from male to male to finally rest on Rossi's thickening waist.

Eyes widening as he realized the younger man's intention, Dave shook his head furiously. "Don't even suggest it, Reid," he said, pointing a finger at the nervous man with one finger while he touched his soft belly self consciously with the other. "I went last year," he growled. "Twice. She," he said, gesturing at Garcia, "even dragged me down to the kid's shelter, since, as she put it, I was already dressed up with just everywhere to be," he added with a ferocious look at the indomitable technical analyst.

"And you were a huge success, weren't you?" Garcia retuned unperturbed and patently unapologetic.

Ignoring Penelope, Rossi went on, "And, I'll have you know Mr. Observant that I've lost ten pounds!"

"Where?" Reid asked automatically, cocking his head.

"Cram the beanpole in the suit," Rossi barked at Morgan. "The more violent you are, the better," he snarled at Reid.

"Okay," Hotch said calmly, holding up a hand as he stepped toward the fray. "Let's keep the threats to a minimum, guys."

"You wanna take another Santa spin?" Morgan grunted at the Unit Chief. "Because, trust me, man, I don't."

"Give me the outfit," Dave grumbled under his breath, "I'll get our resistant little profiler decked out in the holiday duds," he said with a calculating look at Reid as he held out his hand.

"Now, Agent Rossi," Reid sputtered, darting his eyes toward the door and quickly calculating just how fast he'd have to move. Seeing Emily shift in front of it, he sighed. He'd never make it through her.

Arching one brow as he saw the young agent measuring his options, Dave snorted. "Go ahead, kid. Try to make a run for it. I enjoy a good hunt before bagging my kill."

"Did you hear that?" Reid yelped, taking a step backwards as he pointed toward the approaching David Rossi. "He's shooting to kill, Hotch. Surely that's not allowed!"

"All's fair in love and war, sunshine," Penelope trilled, throwing the velvet pants toward the so-called genius.

"Or in this case, all's fair in Christmas and in bah humbug," Morgan corrected, leaning against the wall near the door, arms crossed. "Ain't any use fighting it. You know Mamacita's gonna win in the end, so just get with the program."

Reid waved both arms wildly, unaware that he was doing a fairly passable imitation of a collapsing windmill in a tornado. "But I don't think there should be any program, remember? Surely this is not the spirit of Christmas!"

Grabbing her prey's arm and pulling him forward, Garcia stomped her foot as she demanded, "Now listen to me, Spencer Montague Reid, and listen good. You have been given an awesome chance to make children smile and experience the joy of this season. So get your skinny little ass into that outfit before I put you in it head first and let Rossi staple the zipper shut over your flailing ski-like feet. Capisce?"

Gulping, Reid nodded mutely as he noted the dangerous gleam in her bright eyes. "Okay," he assented meekly.

"All right, elves," Garcia announced happily over her shoulder. "Mrs. Claus needs this room! Santa," she said, with a direct look, "get to stripping! Down to your tighty whities!" she ordered sternly.

Waiting until the last of his colleagues had filed out the door, Reid sighed, slowly removing his clothes as Garcia busied herself with Santa's suit. Finally standing in his mostly white boxers, he blushed as he heard Garcia's giggle when she turned and looked at him.

"And here I thought you didn't have any Holiday spirit at all," she clucked, eyeing his Rudolph boxers.

"My mom sent them," Reid mumbled, reaching for the red felt pants she extended toward him and shoving one skinny leg inside the material. Holding the waist away from his stomach, he shook his head as he realized there was no way his girth came close to filling the prescribed uniform.

"Don't fret, my lovely," Garcia tsked, shoving a pillow against his waist. "That's what these are for. A little Santa padding never hurt anyone," she smiled, adding another pillow.

Several minutes later as Garcia huffed and puffed, shoving the last of her pillows underneath his Santa jacket, she finally took a step back. "Well, Rossi only took half the amount of stuffing, I'll give you that," she declared as she grinned at Reid.

"It's all that hot air," Reid grumbled under his breath, his nose twitching as the Santa beard tickled his nose. Sneezing furiously a second later, Reid's eyes began to water. "Garcia," he wheezed, batting at the faux hair attached to his face. "I think I'm allergic!" He sneezed again.

"To what?" Garcia asked, rolling her eyes as she adjusted the black leather belt encircling his now Santa-sized waist.

"I don't know," Reid retorted, flustered. "The beard…the suit….the Holiday. Look," he ordered, wiping his streaming eyes. "Tears!"

She shrugged, unconcerned. "Oh, it just gives you the required twinkle in your eye. It adds to the overall effect."

"It's going to be adding to anaphylactic shock soon," Reid choked, wiping furiously at his eyes. "Seriously, did you have this thing dry cleaned? I think I smell sweat."

"That's you, Buttercup. The outfit adds about fifty degrees to your body temperature," Garcia explained easily.

"Oh," Reid mumbled, "something to look forward to…how exactly are you going to explain Santa's heat stroke?" he asked, mildly curious. "Too much eggnog?"

"Very funny," Pen smirked. "But you are not going to pass out. You are going to walk out that door," she said with a gesture across the room, "and be the holliest, jolliest St. Nick the world has ever seen!"

"You seem pretty certain about that," Reid offered suspiciously.

"I am," she smiled serenely. "Wanna know why, my angel?"

"Why?" Reid asked with no small amount of hesitation.

"Because, Sweetcheeks, however silly you find Santa," she informed him with a voice oozing the perfect blend of sweetness and sass, "I can promise you that the Easter Bunny costume is much, much worse. Now," she enthused, "let me hear you say, "Ho! Ho! Ho!" and really sell it, if you hear what I'm saying," she demanded.

The threat was clear. And the promise of Christmas retribution shined in her eyes as they met his.

He only had one viable choice as he nodded grimly.

Puffing out his chest, he inhaled deeply. "Ho! Ho! Ho! Merrrrrrryyyyyyyy Christmas!" he shouted, deepening his voice as he settled one hand on his burgeoning belly.

Face lighting up, Penelope cradled Reid's cheeks covered with his Santa beard and pressed her lips to his. "Santa! I knew you'd be here!"

And now resigned to his fate, Reid allowed himself to be dragged toward the door.

There was an upside, after all.

Come April, he'd receive his own belated Christmas gift.

Seeing David Rossi hopping down the Bunny Trail would be well worth his Santa servitude in the end.

Finis