Hotch was the consummate answers man. He had a ready answer for any possible question, posable by any one of the seven billion or so humans crawling across the face of the Earth at any given time. That being said, he was for the first time in his life, speechless. Staring his smouldering stare at the suddenly rebellious Reid, he couldn't quite form his mouth around an appropriate response to the word no which hung like smog between them before one burst from him in his most dangerously soft tone.

"I beg your pardon?"

Reid returned the glare and shrugged his slender shoulders.

"No need to beg, my pardon is for free and my answer remains a no."

Hotch's optician would have vomited at the bulging condition of the man's eyeballs as they practically bugged clean out of his head. Even Morgan, the classic Alpha male of the team and more often than not the one who bumped against Hotch, would have taken one look at the pulsating oculars and ran for the hills. Reid, however, looked him straight in face without the faintest hint of remorse and with a defiantly tilted jaw.

"Have you lost your damn mind?" Hotch eventually growled. "Do you realise I could easily suspend you, without pay, for at least two weeks for speaking to me like this?"

Reid tilted his head somewhat at this, giving off the impression of a previously pleasant housecat now considering unprecedented violence against the sweet old lady with the organic kibble.

"Then do it. Suspend me. At least I'd be able to catch that movie I was talking about."

Hotch cursed himself internally. He kept forgetting that notwithstanding Reid was a literal genius, he was also a literal genius that hailed from Vegas and as such was an expert in the art of calling the bluff. Feeling a level of anger that hadn't brewed inside him in a long time threaten to draw down the red mist of rage over his eyes, Hotch forced himself to take three deep breaths. Accepting that Reid was a formidable opponent, he reminded himself sternly that he could still out-profile the kid with one hand tied behind his back.

"Alright then, Special Agent Reid. Have it your way – turn over your badge and your gun please. I will inform Section Chief Strauss of your suspension which is for a minimum of two weeks, unpaid, pending an internal review into the continued suitability of your assignment to my team. I will not tolerate a team member showing me this level of disrespect. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever."

He held out his right hand with a raised brow.

"Badge and gun. Right now."

It was Reid's turn to possess a pair of bulging eyes. His strained gaze travelled down to Hotch's outstretched hand and back up to the man's now completely impassive and set-in-stone face. Swallowing a dry swallow he felt a wave of panic morph into a sharp pin which punctured his unusually inflated ego with a loud pop. He would never know that he was being played like a particularly fine violin as he looked at Hotch with a completely different expression from just seconds ago.

"I… no, I-"

"Badge and gun, Special Agent Reid. Hand them over."

It was a testament to just how very angry Hotch was that the tortured expression that crossed the kid's face moved him not a jot. He was well aware of the muted rumblings and grumblings within the team that he let Reid away with murder on the basis that he was his favourite. He had never countered or corrected this low-level mutiny because he couldn't. He did let Reid away with more than he would Morgan and he was his favourite… but this wasn't something he could let slide. Not by a long shot. This rebellion was so out of order that it blew all semblance of order clean out of the water.

"I can't be suspended," Reid said in a strangled whisper. "I can't-"

"Oh I think you will find you absolutely can be suspended," Hotch interrupted sternly. "You seem to be labouring under an extremely heavy delusion that you can act and speak however you please without facing any consequences. I think you need a long appointment with reality… a two-week appointment to be exact… to remember that you are no more above the rules than anyone else."

He crooked the fingers of his outstretched a hand.

"For the last time, please give me your badge and gun and then leave the building."

Reid's eyes would not been out of place on the face of a death row poodle with a bad record seeking their last chance saloon. He bit his lip nervously, all of his previous bravado seemingly swept from his body and looked down at the badge and gun holstered to his hip in despair. He couldn't be suspended. He just couldn't. The only thing keeping him tethered to some form of stability was the job… without that… he would be completely adrift. Fear lapped at him as he rewound the conversation that had commenced only a few moments ago and he heard with crystal clarity the sound of his extreme impertinence.

"Please Hotch," he said softly as he examined his shoes. "Don't. I'm sorry, ok? I'm sorry for the attitude but please don't suspend me… I know you can and probably should but… please don't."

Hotch sighed as he dropped his hand back to his side. He didn't believe in demonic possession, except for that one time he had played that prank on Rossi as a rookie and the man's reaction, but Reid's back and forth between rebellion and repentance was downright bewildering.

"Look at me."

With great reluctance, Reid forced himself to meet Hotch's gaze.

"I don't want to suspend you any more than you want to be suspended," he said quietly but with that undeniable ring of authority, "but you cannot expect to speak to me like this and get away with it. I gave you more than one chance to explain to me what is going on with you and you threw those chances back in my face with a huge side helping of cheek. My patience is beginning to seriously wane and so if you don't want to spend the next two weeks at home contemplating your future with the BAU you are going to start talking to me. Is that clear?"

Knowing that this really was his last chance, Reid nodded.

"Yes, Hotch."

Seeing the rebuke begin to form at the corners of the man's mouth, he hurriedly corrected himself.

"I mean yes, Sir."

Mollified by only the slightest of mollifying molecules, Hotch nodded slowly before rubbing a hand over his tired eyes. Wondering idly if he ever caused Rossi even half of the tension headaches the kid before him unleased on his besieged brain, he allowed Reid to squirm in silence for longer than was perhaps kind before nodding.

"Ok. Before I hear whatever it is that you have to say for yourself, I believe you have an overdue appointment with the corner."

He pointed at the corner in question with a look that brooked no nonsense.

"March."

Desperate though his situation was, Reid's abhorrence of the corner was so strong that he still hesitated, turning to look at the innocent looking junction of the room with distaste. He barely heard the muttered and highly exasperated "for the love of…" that slipped from Hotch's mouth before he felt a hand grip his upper arm and turn him slightly to the side. The five or six swats that were landed upon his cords clad backside were searing.

"Ow!" he spluttered in surprise, turning to Hotch with wounded eyes "That hurt."

The answering response was not comforting.

"No," Hotch said slowly. "It didn't… but it will. For now, you either get your nose in that corner with your hands by your side and think about your behaviour and what you have to say to me about it or you swallow a suspension. So, what's it to be?"

He watched as Reid slowly turned with marked reluctance and do as he was bid. When the kid was safely ensconced in the corner, leaning his forehead against it in misery, Hotch threw himself down in one of the comfortable Conference Room chairs and leaned back as fatigue washed over him. He looked over at the slumped frame of his unashamed favourite and wished he could just continue to brush the kid's attitude problem under the carpet and hope it resolved itself… just like he had been doing for the last week… but he knew he couldn't. A familiar sense of misery dogged him, the same feeling that always did when he had cause to pull Spencer back in line, and he closed his eyes tiredly. Opening them in irritation as his cell vibrated, he fished it out of his pocket whilst issuing a low reprimand in the general direction of the corner.

"Stand up straight. You know better. Don't make me restart the clock."

To the slight muffle of Reid fixing his posture, he blinked at the text message in front of him and felt the misery inside him ramp up to an appreciable roar.

"When you're finished talking with the kid, you and I need to have a little chat of our own. Stop by the house on your way home – Rossi."

….

Having thought about it, I think I'm going to develop this further into a longer fic with Hotch/Reid and Rossi/Hotch vibes. I hope you guys stick around! 😊

Inks x

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