SSA Aaron Hotchner fought hard to keep a firm handle on his temper as he glared his trademark warning at his youngest and though he'd never admit it favourite, agent who was teetering on the edge of throwing a full blown tantrum in front of his desk. Feeling the full force of the older agents gaze on him Dr Spencer Reid recklessly gazed back unfazed, his chin raised in defiance.

Seeing the stubborn streak shining in the genius kids' eyes, Hotch, as he was known to his team (unless they were in trouble), sighed. Softening his gaze somewhat he addressed the younger man firmly. "Reid. I said no. It's too dangerous given the delicate nature of this case. The outcome is too unpredictable and its' an unnecessary risk that I will not allow you to run. Now drop it, and can that attitude while you're at it, last warning."

Grinding his teeth in irritation, Reid tried again, foolishly. "Hotch, will you just listen please? I can talk him down. I know I can. There doesn't need to be any guns used. Its' a win-win all round, he gets to live or at least with survivable injury and we get a clean and uncomplicated arrest. I understand him; he's been through so much torment because he's different. I can talk him down, I'm sure of it." He stared at the team leader somewhat haughtily, as if daring him to tell him he couldn't convince the unsub to surrender to arrest when the time came.

Feeling the familiar pangs of anger at the treatment Reid had been subjected to before he met him; Hotch surveyed the passionate young man in front of him with an appraising eye. It was indeed possible that Reid could negotiate successfully with the suspect in their current case when they closed in. However, they had profiled that he was at over an eighty per cent risk of engineering a suicide by cop. It was due to this fact that Hotch was point blank refusing Reid's request. There was no way he would ever place any of his team members at needlessly increased risk, especially "the kid" as he was dubbed. SSA Derek Morgan would often joke that Hotch was so over protective of Reid that the kid might as well be a human cotton wool ball.

Reaffirming his decision, Hotch worked to resume his warning gaze. "No Reid. The answer is no. I don't want to hear another word about it, not a syllable. Now, get back to work." Recognising the dismissal, Reid turned sulkily to leave his boss's office.

Reaching the door he muttered "it'd be a different story if it was Muscle Morgan asking" under his breath, not actually intending to be heard. Unfortunately for him, his superior had ears like a hare.

"What was that Reid?" snapped Hotch, his patience finally having expired.

"Nothing, nothing" came the petulant reply, muffled as Reid didn't bother himself to turn around to speak to his now completely fed up boss.

Sighing angrily, the older agent crossed the room in three strides. Grasping the mutinous young man by the shoulder he spun him around and landed a quick round of searing and deliberate swats across his backside. Reid yelped in pain and surprise, reaching back to cover his rear protectively. Keeping his firm grip on the now puppy eyed prodigy, Hotch ground out in a dangerously low voice "keep it up Reid. Keep it up and you and I are going to take a little trip to the conference room, and believe me those few swats you just got will feel like my Christmas present to you compared to what you'll get. Now, do I make myself abundantly clear to you?"

Knowing when to admit defeat, Reid looked at the floor sheepishly. "Yes Sir" he murmured quietly.

"Do I need to remind you about what happened the last time you talked back to me like this and disobeyed me concerning a case of this kind by the way Reid? With Owen?"

Reid shook his head in the negative frantically. Hotch knew he was remembering the extremely sore backside he'd received for putting himself in untold danger to help a different kid with whom he'd identified in the same way he was identifying with their current suspect.

Slightly mollified, Hotch slackened his hold on the kid but didn't completely relinquish it. Placing a gentle hand under Reid's chin, he tipped the younger mans' head up and made stern eye contact with him. "Anything else to say to me Reid?" he demanded looking meaningfully at Reid's presumably smarting backside, wanting to put the matter to bed once and for all.

Taking a breath, Reid used his puppy brown eyes to good effect. Looking beseechingly at Hotch he replied "I'm sorry for my attitude Sir, it won't happen again." Hotch smiled his soft smile and finally let go of Reid's now tender arm. Ruffling his hair affectionately, and earning himself a patented Spencer Reid pout in the process, he held the door open for the now repentant kid. "Much better Reid. Go on then, hop it. I want reports on my desk before the close of business today."

Days passed and Reid was on his best behaviour, showing no signs of resentment that he had not gotten his own way with his earlier request. Hotch was particularly glad of this fact as the they were closing in rapidly on the vigilante hunting unsub, and it wouldn't be long before they would have to be involved in some kind of blow out with the victim turned vigilante.

Several more days came and went and Hotch was increasingly being confined to the paperwork aspect of his job, and less of the field. An external audit of internal operations was looming, and Director Strauss was breathing down his neck promising dire repercussions if his teams' bureaucratic side didn't pass muster. Frustrated, but duty bound Hotch appointed Morgan to oversee the "Hargreaves Investigation" surrounding the Reid pitied unsub. This Morgan did well, as only Morgan could. When the call came in that the suspect had been confined and surrounded by local law authorities in an abandoned building, Hotch therefore had no qualms about letting his senior agent lead his team, instructing him to bring it home as best he could.

However, whenever his team was out of his line of vision and in the field, Hotch could never suppress the pool of paternal anxiety that gathered in his stomach. He may come across as stern and uncaring, but he would lay down his life to protect every single member on his team and found it difficult to let them operate in the field without him. Sighing, he worked diligently at his desk, waiting for the call that he knew Morgan would conscientiously provide when the situation had been neutralised. When the phone rang, he snatched it up expectantly. His face fell hard when it was Strauss, and not Morgan as he had hoped. Wincing slightly as his boss without wasting time on pleasantries like hello, began to lengthily chew him out without mercy for a miniscule oversight on a report he had authored, Hotch prayed that the line wasn't being monopolised to the exclusion of Morgan's call.

"Yes Ma'am, I'll look into it."

"No Ma'am, I don't think that it's good enough."

"Yes Ma'am, I know how important this audit is."

"No Ma'am, I'm not trying my best to be incompetent. No Ma'am, yes Ma'am…yes I know."

"Two weeks desk duty?! Two?! But ….it wasn't that big a…."

….."Yes Ma'am, I agree that two weeks desk duty is lenient, thank you."

"Goodbye Ma'am."

Groaning in frustration and annoyance, Hotch slammed the phone down. Strauss, in profiling terms was undergoing a transient state of extreme fluctuating emotion stemming from high stress external triggers. In layman's terms, she was being an unfair, unpleasant arbitrary tyrant. To think that my lot think I'm harsh, they should try being directly under her Hotch thought ruefully as he resigned himself to being unjustly chained to his desk based prison for another two weeks.

Settling back down to work and waiting for Morgan's call, Hotch was relieved when thirty or so minutes later the phone rang again. Snatching up the receiver once more he waited to hear what he hoped was all round good news.

"Morgan? Talk to me."

"Hotch. It's done. We shot to kill, but worked out as an injury shot, suspect is down but stable. He's being accompanied to and will be guarded at the hospital."

"The team?" Hotch asked, happy with the news Morgan had given him, but detecting with a profilers ear an undercurrent of….something in his voice.

"All safe and… accounted for."

There it was again. Morgan was holding something back.

"Derek…..please, what is it?"

"In person Hotch. I'll explain in person…you're, well you're not going to like this. See you soon."

With that the line went dead and Hotch paled. He suddenly had a very good idea of what was bothering his senior agent.

Reid.

An hour or so passed, as the team were relatively far out, there was no choice but wait. Hotch stared unseeingly at the reports in front of him, a red mist of rage had descended over his eyes. If Reid had done what he suspected he'd done, the kid was as good as dead. He wouldn't sit for a month. Sighing heavily, he attempted to get some work done to take his mind of what he genuinely hoped he had been unfair in thinking.

As he was hitting his stride with the tedious form filling, there came a confident knock on the door that Hotch instantly recognised as Morgan's. Calling for him to come in immediately, Hotch's worst fears were confirmed when Morgan entered first looking thunderous, dragging along with him by his upper arm, an extremely nervous and guilty looking Spencer Reid.

Looking up from his desk as his oldest agent, dragged his youngest into a front and centre position before him, Hotch's eyes narrowed dangerously. Knowing straight away from Reid's demeanour that he'd get a quicker explanation from Morgan, Hotch turned to him and raised an eyebrow. "Explain please Morgan."

SSA Morgan took a deep breath. If there was one thing he hated to do was to get one of his own in trouble. Deep trouble. In this case however, he had no choice but to make an exception. Reid had been so far out of line on this one, there was no way he could protect him from the consequences like he usually tried to do. Whilst he was furiously angry with Reid himself, he couldn't help but shoot him a furtive sympathetic look knowing that the soon to be enraged SSA Hotchner was going to flat out kill the kid. Looking his boss in the eye Morgan began the unpleasant task of explaining Reid's momentous screw up, while Reid himself was burning a hole in Hotch's carpet with his gaze.

"We had the suspect cornered, taking over from the local PD. We gave him three chances as per protocol to surrender arms and exit. Well..he didn't do that, he went for the suicide by cop as we thought. As we attempted to go for in the kill shot…Reid…well, Reid….took off his vest and stood in front of the suspect blocking our shot and putting himself in the firing line instead."

"I ordered him out, and he disobeyed my orders. I ordered him to get his ass out of there again. He disobeyed me again."

He then attempted to….well, he attempted to negotiate the weapon from the suspect, whilst being unarmed himself and announcing that fact to the unsub. The suspect feigned compliance with Reid's instructions, and then went in for the suicide by cop using the kid as bait. Emily managed to get in a miraculous shot in the circumstances that effectively disarmed the suspect. We moved in, subdued him, and got Reid out."

Finishing his explanation, it was Morgan's turn to look down at the ground in misery. He felt guilty as hell for what he'd had to do, but he knew he had to do it. The kid was only standing and breathing beside him through a combination of divine intervention and the unnerving skill of SSA Prentiss.

SSA Hotchner sat trembling with rage. He glanced down at his hands and saw that they were literally shaking with raw anger. Looking at his senior agent, he felt a rush of pride for the man's' decision making. Morgan was as loyal as they come and he knew how much it would have cost to him to haul Reid onto the carpet and describe what he had done, to him, their boss. Especially considering the bond that existed between both men.

Clearing his throat, he said with surprising gentleness, "thank you Morgan. Thank you for a job well done and thank you for looking after our team today. You should be proud of yourself, now get yourself home and rested. Take the others with you, you've all had a long day."

When Morgan nodded and looked questioningly at Reid, clearly wondering whether the team leader meant for him to take him as well, Hotch shook his head. "No. Not Reid, we have many…many things to discuss" he said grimly. Morgan nodded his head sadly, shot the kid one last look of sympathy and left obediently. Hotch leant back in his chair and surveyed the young man before him. He looked dishevelled, morose and tentatively petrified. His eyes had not left the same spot on the floor since he had entered the office.

"Spencer Reid get your eyes up this instant" he snapped angrily.

Reid obediently, thought albeit reluctantly drew his eyes level with the older man and winced when he saw the full force of the anger and disappointment that resided there.

"Explain yourself. This minute" Hotch all but snarled, his anger palpable in the confines of the austere office.

Taking a deep shuddering breath, and knowing that in this situation the only acceptable answer was the gods honest truth, Spencer licked his dry lips and began.

"I deliberately and wilfully disobeyed both you and Morgan. I didn't go to that scene with the intention of doing so, but when I saw the look in his eyes…when he was cornered like that, I lost my head. I went in blind. I went it blind at great personal and potentially fatal risk to myself and the other members of our team. I jeopardised every protocol every set by the bureau in doing so. I genuinely thought I could talk him down. I thought I was doing the right thing, but I was just arrogant….I'm so sorry Sir" he finished miserably.

Hotch continued to glare at the boy, torn between the fury he felt at his actions and the relief he felt that he was ok. He understood why Reid had done what he did, he genuinely understood. There was however no way he could justify or excuse it. Standing abruptly, he reached for a large file and flipped it open spilling it's pages onto the desk. Opening his desk drawer he rummaged around in it, glancing up at Reid as he did so. The kid had taken up another floor staring marathon.

Finding what he was searching for, Hotch slipped the object into the manila folder where it was completely concealed. Placing the file under his arm he strode out from behind his desk and over to Reid. Taking him firmly and sternly by the upper arm, just as the vacated Morgan had done so, Hotch without a word to the younger man, propelled him forcibly from the room. Reid for his part didn't dare ask where they were going, mainly because he had a horribly good idea. A few moments of terse silence and rapid walking later, his worst fears were realised when they stopped dead outside a relatively innocent looking door. Whipping out his key card with a little difficulty due to his restraint on Reid, Hotch swiped his ID and the door clicked obligingly open. Pushing the kid in before him, Hotch closed the door with a snap and flicked on the lights.

The conference room was a part of a long since abandoned refurbishment plan and essentially laid dormant. It was a non observance conference room, meaning they were no recording devices or two way mirrors. The walls and doors were also FBI standard thick, no sounds from the inside could be heard from the outside and vice versa. All in all, this room was as Hotch had concluded the perfect correction room for his wayward charges. Well, mostly Reid and often Morgan he had long since concluded. His girls were for the most part, mercifully well behaved.

The room comprised of a standard issue round table and several discarded chairs. Hotch pulled one of the chairs into the middle room, before leaning on it and fixing the contrite young agent with a trademark Hotchner look of death. Reid squirmed under it, shifting feet relentlessly.

"Reid. I don't see the point in lecturing you here. You know exactly what you've done. You knew exactly what you were doing. You don't need to be a profiler to know how furious I am with you. How disappointed I am in you, and how much you've let yourself, me and your team down. Am I correct?"

Reid's doleful eyes were burning with guilt as he nodded his head and murmured "yes Sir."

"You knew exactly what price you would have to pay if you did what you chose to do. So, I don't think there's any point in wasting any more time. Do you?"

Relieved and slightly calmed by Reid's soft "no Sir," Hotch removed his suit jacket and threw it loosely over another chair, placed the manila folder on the ground beside him and sat down on the chair he had leant on. Rolling up the shirt sleeve of his right arm, he watched as Reid's eyes began to show the signs of fear they always did when he had cause to discipline him like this. Refusing to let this get to him as it usually did, Hotch looked away and concentrated on completely freeing his arm. He had no choice but to teach the kid a lesson he wouldn't be likely to forget for a long time.

Looking up he beckoned the now thoroughly miserable boy to him. Reid to his credit didn't bargain, plead or stall as he usually did in this situation. This let Hotch know how sorry he was on its' own and it calmed him down another increment. Taking a deep breath, Hotch looked up at his migraine inducing agent who was now right in front of him and sighed.

"Pants down. Underwear down, now. You don't deserve your usual warm up I'm afraid."

Reid's eyes widened and he winced, but otherwise he did as he was told. Nodding his approval, Hotch reached out and took hold of the kids' wrist and pulled him smartly down over his knee. Reid, with an ease bred of having too much experience quickly steadied himself with his hands, face inches away from the floor. He felt as Hotch moved his shirt tails out of the way, and wrapped his strong arm around his waist to prevent the inevitable squirming and wriggling. He felt his face flush as a cool wind from the drafty room drifted lazily over his bare backside. He hated being upended over Hotch's knee like this. Often, Hotch would deal with his transgressions with a few licks from his belt with Reid bent over the table. The older agent was well aware of Reid's most detested form of punishment, and therefore reserved putting him over his knee for him more serious screw ups.

Hotch looked down at the pale milky skin of the prodigies backside and groaned inwardly. As mad as he was with him, he hated to cause him pain. Pushing his own feelings aside, he tightened his already firm grip on the kids' waist and raised him muscular arm high and brought the first of many searing swats down on the unprotected and upturned bottom before him. Reid hissed through his teeth, the loss of his pants in the beginning stages of a spanking seeming like a massive bereavement to him. Hotch quickly settled into a deliberate tempo, bringing his hard and wide hand down again and again. He allowed no time for Reid to recover between swats, and spanked every inch of the kids' rear in a logical progression, ensuring no area escaped. It wasn't long before Reid began squirming slightly.

Exerting more pressure on his grip to keep the lad steady, Hotch continued to pepper the now dusty pink backside with firm and deliberate swats. Lifting his right knee higher and tipping the now whimpering Reid forward carefully, Hotch had a clearer shot at the boys sit spots. Closing his eyes in reluctance, he brought his hand back and systematically unleashed a flurry of fast and furious swats on the extremely tender skin that joined the top of Reid's thighs to his now scarlet backside. It was at this point that the kid began crying in earnest and squirming around Hotch's lap desperately. As he slid off the older man's knee somewhat, Hotch stopped the spanking for a very brief moment in order to calmly haul the kid back into firing line.

Starting from the top of Reid's now heat radiating rear, Hotch started spanking in the next cycle, working his way down again. When he reached the sit spots again and his hand came down heavily, Reid began whimpering vigorously.

"Please…pl….please Sir, I'm sorry…I'll never, oww…I'll never do it again."

"I know you won't Reid, I intend to make sure of that right now" Hotch replied grimly, wishing he could simply haul his headstrong reprobate off his lap and into his arms, but knowing that he would be doing Reid more harm than good. Hardening his heart, he continued his renewed concentration on the much detested sit spots, drawing squeals, yelps and promises galore from the now very contrite younger agent.

Pausing for another brief moment to survey the progression of the spanking on the bottom across his lap, Hotch saw with relief that they were nearly finished. Reid's posterior was a glowing crimson, and no inch of it had escaped Hotch's deliberate hand. Stiffening his resolve, Hotch leaned down and picked up the manila file that lay at his feet.

Reid seeing this, turned back in anxiety and saw with horror that the object Hotch pulled out was the hairbrush. The heavy, old fashioned oak hairbrush that was very rarely used on him i.e. when the older agent really intended on driving a lesson home. Throwing masculinity and stoicism to the wild winds, Reid began pleading shamelessly and attempted to wriggle off the captive lap of SSA Hotchner.

Reid's response was not unprecedented, and Hotch was ready for it. Wrapping his free arm tighter still around the boys' waist, he was effectively restrained. Sniffling through the haze of his tears, Reid pleaded with his angry boss, his voice small due both to his position and his feelings.

"Not the hairbrush….please! Please anything but that….puh-lease. You know…you know how much I hate it."

Hotch closed his eyes against the sounds of his anguished youngest, but couldn't close his ears or his heart. In a much softer tone he spoke to the back of the pleading man, hairbrush in hand. "Shh Reid, shh just calm down. I know how much you hate it. I do, but you need to know how much it would hurt me and how much it would hurt Morgan, JJ, Prentiss, and Rossi to have to attend your funeral. Your premature, pointless and needless funeral. Do you understand?"

When he felt the torso of the man over his knee go limp and the shoulders sag, Hotch knew he had gotten his point through to his headstrong agent, which was reaffirmed by Reid's sad nodding of his head. Stiffening his resolve, Hotch drew back the hairbrush and brought it down with a loud crack on the well reddened backside, causing Reid to cry out sharply. He drew the brush back again and again and settled quickly into a steady rhythm. Reid began to categorically howl, but squirmed no more, laying limp over Hotch's knee.

As the kids wailing gave way to quiet sobbing, the older agent sighed heavily with relief, they were done. Landing one last swat across both cheeks of the roasting hot backside, he threw the brush quickly out his hand. Reid may hate receiving it, but Hotch equally hated using it. Immediately placing his hand on the small of Reid's back he began rubbing slow and comforting circles on it, murmuring reassurance to the young man. Reid slowly but surely began to stop sobbing, and start sniffling.

Hotch continued to speak to him in a low, gentle tone all the while keeping a forgiving hand on his back. Eventually, when he thought the kid had sufficiently calmed he gingerly pulled his boxers over the well heated bottom, wincing alongside Reid when the soft cotton made contact with his rear. Quickly drawing the boy's slacks up to their original position, Hotch very softly lifted Reid up and off his knee and set him steadily on his feet.

Pulling down his sleeve and re buttoning his cufflinks, Hotch deliberately kept his distance giving Reid space to process what had just happened. He busied himself putting the dratted hairbrush back into its' file and fervently hoping he wouldn't have to use it again for a long time. Tucking the chair he had drawn out back under the table, he turned tentatively back to the now quiet Reid. Seeing that the boy was again involved in a staring competition with the floor, he moved cautiously towards him. Putting a gentle finger under the geniuses chin, he carefully drew Reid's eyes to his own, wincing when he saw the watery quality of the younger mans normally piercingly bright eyes.

"How you doing buddy?" he questioned softly.

Reid took a moment to answer, but didn't drop his gaze. What he said then, tore at Aaron Hotchner's heart.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'll have my resignation on your desk within the hour."

The older man gaped at the younger one.

"What? What do you mean your resignation? Spencer, talk to me! I thought you understood why I had to punish you?" Hotch asked in horror. Was I too hard on him he thought frantically.

Reid looked at Hotch in confusion. "Well…well, you said… you said after Owen that if I ever did anything like that again you'd fire me. I did it again…I'd just rather resign, than be fired is what I mean. Of course it's your prerogative to fire me if you prefer."

Hotch's knees nearly buckled with relief. Squeezing his eyes tightly shut for a moment, he placed a hand on the boys shoulder.

"Reid. I was threatening you. I thought it would be enough to deter you, in addition to the roasting you got to never do it again. That's all. The same way I threaten to separate Morgan and Garcia for a month when they refuse to zip it in a briefing. That's all, I'd fight tooth and nail before I'd fire you. I thought you knew that, being a genius and all. Now, is that clear?"

Reid's eyes brightened and he grinned happily, "yes Sir it's clear."

Hotch opened his arms wide for his reprobate to fall into, which he did with gusto for their habitual post spanking hug. The seasoned agent took the opportunity to mutter into Reid's ear "it's Hotch again buddy, not Sir" and grinned when the tousled hair of the kid tickled his chin as he nodded his head happily. Eventually they broke away and Hotch guided Reid out of the conference room with the manila folder under his arm, in a much better mood than when he had guided him in.

Having made their way back to Hotch's office, discussing what food to order in for dinner before they headed home, a new case came in as they seated themselves on the comfortable leather sofa. Reid having some difficulty in finding a comfortable position. Looking at the case files that had been deposited on the team leader's desk to be begun in the morning, Reid looked at Hotch with the familiar pools of pleading in his eyes.

Shaking his head firmly, Hotch answered the unspoken question.

"Sorry buddy, you know the drill. Desk duty, two weeks."

Seeing the crestfallen expression on the kids face, Hotch added grimly "don't worry you'll have company."

Reid looked at him in confusion, "who?" he asked curiously.

Sighing, Hotch lay back in the couch and stared at the ceiling glumly. "Me. Strauss isn't that happy with me right now."

Reid snorted in derision, but then grinned mischievously. "Really? What, pray tell, did Adorably Angelic Aaron do then?"

Narrowing his eyes in feigned annoyance at his cheeky agent, Hotch lifted his head and asked sweetly "need a little reminder on how to address your elder's Reid? We haven't had to revisit that in a while, but it's not a problem. The food will be another ten minutes anyway."

Scuttling away from his boss and friend, Reid hastily replied "no no, I got it , I got it."

Chuckling, Aaron lay back once again.

"Thought so kid, thought so."