More Accurately Put: Evil Incarnate.

A/N: Hello, everyone! Welcome to my first Criminal Minds fanfiction… I hope I don't butcher anything too badly. I wanted to write this because characters (especially those who are normally more composed) are fun to write for when they're sick. Also, I don't feel good right now and it seemed appropriate. Anyhow, I now present to you: some semblance of what could possibly be an entertaining story. Or not.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything to do with Criminal Minds or any other recognizable items I may inadvertently mention.

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It's no longer a question of staying healthy. It's a question of finding a sickness you like.

~Jackie Mason

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Everyone became aware of the sniffling, sneezing, coughing mess that was Dr. Reid as soon as he entered the office. To put things plainly, he looked like hell. His nose was red, standing out from his pale face. His eyelids drooped over dark rings, indicating his tiredness. Fatigue was also evident in his unusually slouched posture. He was dressed normally, and carried both his usual messenger bag and a box of tissues. "Reid, are you okay?" Emily asked, looking the young profiler over with concern.

"Yeah, you look pretty sick." Morgan agreed.

"Be okay, just need coffee." Reid mumbled as he dropped his bag and the Kleenex box on his desk.

He was unaware of the eyes of his coworkers watching him as he retrieved a cup of coffee from the nearby machine. He came back to his desk, sat down and took a sip of his coffee. They could tell he immediately regretted the decision as he quickly placed the cup of coffee on his desk as far away from himself as possible.

That was it for his teammates. If the bottomless-coffee-pit couldn't stomach coffee, there was obviously something wrong. Morgan walked over to Reid's desk and leaned on it, staring down at Reid. "Kid, you've gotta go home."

"No, I'm okay." Reid mumbled with little conviction, waving his hand dismissively.

"I don't think so. You look like crap, Reid." Morgan told him frankly.

Reid glared up at Morgan. "Sorry, but you do. You can't work like this. You have to go home."

"He's right." Both Reid and Morgan turned to face Hotch as he entered the conversation. "Go home, Reid. You won't be able to do your job effectively this way. If we get a case, there's no way I would allow you in the field. Take a couple of days to recover."

Reid sighed. He couldn't argue with Hotch's logic or the fact he had just been given an order. He nodded, snatched up his bag and box of tissues and headed for the door, telling everybody he'd see them tomorrow. It did not escape everyone else's notice how much their friend was stumbling and weaving. "Maybe someone ought to give him a ride." Hotch pointed out.

"I got it." Morgan said, catching up with Reid quickly.

"I don't need a ride. I'm okay. Just a little dizzy." Reid protested half-heartedly.

"You won't be okay for long if we let you drive home like this." Morgan told him.

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"Okay, here you go." Morgan said, pulling up in front of Reid's apartment building.

"Thanks." Reid muttered, looking slightly embarrassed.

"C'mon, Kid, a couple days of rest isn't going to kill you. But if it makes you feel any better, I can stop by after work and make sure you haven't died of boredom or something."

"No, it's alright." Reid told him, stepping out of the car.

"Right. See you after work, pretty boy." Morgan said, driving off.

Reid sighed and headed back into the building he had left not an hour ago.

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Morgan raised his fist to knock on the door of Reid's apartment. After he had gotten off work, he had stopped to pick up a few cans of soup and some boxes of tissues, which he was sure Reid would be grateful for. However, Reid did not seem to be inclined to answer his door, though Morgan had knocked on it at least three times now.

Morgan shook his head. Knowing Reid, he had managed to catch some bizarre, mutated flu or something stupid like that and was now lying passed out somewhere in his apartment. Morgan knocked more urgently. The idea really hadn't been a serious one, but the thought shook him up slightly. Finally, Morgan decided he would just go in. But, of course, the door was locked.

Looking down at his feet, the agent realized there would be no key under the mat, since there was no mat. However, he was sure that his friend would keep a key handy for times when he simply couldn't find his. Morgan began feeling around the top of the door frame. He was about to give up and just call Reid and ask to be let in, when his fingers met with something cold. Smiling in triumph, he unlocked the door, replaced the key, and entered the darkened apartment.

"Reid?" Morgan called out softly, looking around.

Though Reid didn't answer, Morgan could see the flickering light emanating from a room to his left and walked in to what seemed to be Reid's living room. There were bookshelves lining the walls, a desk in one corner, a TV, and a couch which contained Reid. He sat huddled under a blanket on one end, sitting up though he was obviously asleep. "Reid?" Morgan asked a little louder, walking across the room and standing in front of the couch.

Reid gave no sign that he heard, making no sounds or movements. In fact, it looked as though he was barely breathing, he was so still. Morgan beat down the anxiety that welled up at that thought. He just has the flu, he's not dead. Morgan reminded himself. "Hey, Kid, are you okay?" Morgan asked, gently shaking the younger man before him.

Suddenly, Reid was wide awake and groping around the table beside for his gun. He grabbed the first thing which his hands came into contact with- a tissue box. Reid pointed it at Morgan as though it were a gun until he realized what he was holding and threw it instead.

Morgan, who had backed away from the young agent as soon as he woke up, was still confused at being threatened with a box of tissues and had no time to dodge the oncoming projectile. Instead it hit him squarely in the chest as Reid went back to searching for his gun. "Reid! It's me! It's Morgan!"

Reid stopped his search and actually looked at Morgan for the first time. "Morgan!" Reid said, bolting off the couch and coming over to where his friend stood. "I'm sorry! I thought- I…"

"It's fine." Morgan said with a bit a laugh.

Reid swayed uneasily on his feet and quickly sat back down. "You okay, Reid?" Morgan asked, concerned.

"Kind of dizzy." Reid told him.

Suddenly, every question his mother had asked him when he was ill came rushing back to Morgan. They weren't difficult to remember, she had made sure he always remembered at least three things when he was ill. "Have you been drinking water?" Morgan asked.

"No."

"Did you eat anything today?"

"Too queasy."

"Have you at least been sleeping?"

"Do you know how difficult it is to sleep when you have to blow your nose every five minutes? I'd only been asleep for 10 minutes when you came in."

As if to punctuate his point Reid lurched for the box of tissues he had thrown at Morgan and blew his nose a few times, depositing the tissue into a small trash bag nearby. "You're not very good at taking care of yourself, are you, Pretty Boy?" Morgan asked with a grin, sitting down next to his friend on the couch.

Reid glared at Morgan and threw the tissue box at him again. Morgan only laughed as he picked the box up off the floor. "I'm only kidding. Really, are you okay?"

The short-lived anger drained out of the young genius as he sagged back against the couch. "I feel like crap." He muttered.

"You look it. But you'll start to feel better eventually."

There was silence for a moment before Reid spoke again. "I need the tissues back."

"You're just going to throw them at me again."

"I really need that box back."

"You'll have to take in back because I'm not going to hand over ammo willingly." Morgan teased.

Suddenly, he felt Reid's long fingers clamp around the arm that was holding the tissue box as he tried to get him to let the box go. Morgan held fast, however. "You're gonna have to work for it, Kid."

Reid was really tugging now, attempting wrench the box of tissues out of his colleague's hands. Morgan was about to let go when Reid stopped pulling altogether. Looking over at his friend, he saw a look of dread fall into place. "What's wrong?" Morgan barely had time to get the question out before his friend bolted off the couch.

"I'm gonna be sick." Reid said, dashing into the bathroom and shutting the door behind him.

Morgan went over to the bathroom too, the much sought-after box of tissues now forgotten. He could hear the sounds of retching on the other side of the door and winced. He was torn between going in and offering his friend comfort, or staying outside. He knew Reid probably would have hated to be seen vomiting and decided to stay out of the bathroom. Soon, the sound of running water could be heard before the door opened and Reid walked back over to the couch. "Are you okay?" Morgan asked, feeling as though it was a bit of stupid question.

"I hate vomit." Reid muttered.

"I don't know many people who don't." Morgan said with a wan smile, patting his friend on the shoulder. "This flu stuff hits you hard, huh?"

"This isn't the flu, this is evil incarnate."

Morgan laughed, managing to elicit a few laughs from Reid as well. Finally, Morgan's attention was brought back to the bag he had left in the corner of the room. "I brought more tissues and some soup, if you wanted any."

"Thank you. I might have some of that later." Reid said. "Thanks for coming over, by the way."

"If you're trying to tell me I can go now, I'm not leaving." Morgan said, sitting on the couch to illustrate his point.

Reid sighed, but made no effort to make the man go. "Thanks."

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Several hours, two movies, one bowl of soup and 390 tissues later, Reid lay fast asleep on one end of the couch as Morgan stood up and stretched. He cast one final glance over his friend and turned to leave. "Thanks, Morgan." Reid muttered just before Morgan left the room.

"No problem, Kid." Morgan said before heading out.

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Serious illness doesn't bother me for long because I am too inhospitable a host.

~Albert Schweitzer

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A/N: No, seriously, this isn't slash. It's just friendship. Anyhow, I based this somewhat after the last time I got the flu. I felt pretty much like Reid except for the throwing up part… that was another time. Oh, by the way, 390 tissues equals about 3 boxes of Kleenex. Yes, I looked it up. Anyhow, I hope you guys enjoyed or at least didn't hate it. (I promise I'll improve with practice!) Review if you like. Thanks!