a/n: Warning, this installment contains slash, if you don't like it, don't read it.
Dishabiliophobia- Fear of undressing in front of someone.
Hotch watched as Reid trembled before him, his hands twitching and fingering the top button of his shirt. "I can't do this, not with you watching," Reid admitted quietly, his hands falling from the button to wrap tightly around his midsection. Hotch got up off the edge of the bed and took a few steps forward, stopping just within arms reach. Reid's nervous eyes flickered over to the lamp, wishing the light bulb would just explode and cover the room in darkness. Hotch's fingers slowly undid the top button, his fingers brushing against Reid's collarbone.
"Why, Reid?" he questioned, his fingers gliding down to Reid's chest. He noted that Reid was gasping, nearly hyperventilating. "You need to calm down," he cautioned, but Reid wasn't hearing him.
"The goal post," he gasped, allowing Hotch to ease him down on the edge of the bed. "They watched, they laughed," it started clicking together for Hotch, and his heart sank. He waited for a few moments, rubbing Spencer's sweaty back gently while he caught his breath.
"They touched you, didn't they?" He asked quietly, feeling every muscle in Reid's body tighten. He didn't expect Reid to say anything, so he continued, "I don't need to tell you what a trauma like this does to a twelve year old prepubescent boy." Spencer ripped his hand away from Hotch's as if it burned him, and Hotch let him move to the seat by the window. "It wasn't your fault, Spencer. You were a child," he soothed, not flinching when Reid quickly crossed the room and stood in front of him.
"You don't know anything, Hotch," Reid's voice was menacing; Hotch never thought Reid was capable of that level of anger.
"I do, Reid. I know what they did to you. Nothing like that will ever happen again, Reid. No one will ever touch you when you don't want it," Hotch swallowed the pain in his chest, watching as a single tear dripped from Reid's eye.
"They made fun of how little I was," Spencer said, his leg jumping up and down, "They said it was disgusting how I didn't have to shave." His voice was shaking, and suddenly it felt like there wasn't enough air to breathe. "They flicked me..." his hands balled into angry fists and he shook his head. "They tied me to the goal post and when they got bored, they left me there."
The silence fell over the room again, and Hotch watched closely and Reid stood up again. Eyes focused on the wall behind his head, Reid's fingers slowly reached for the next button of his shirt. With trembling fingers, he managed to get three more undone before a sob broke from his throat. Hotch's heart ached as a broken sound from deep in Reid's chest bubbled to the surface.
Unable to watch anymore, Hotch got off the bed and quickly refastened the buttons. "You did good Reid, really good," Hotch said, pressing a kiss to his temple as he guided him back to the bed. They laid down, and Hotch leaned over to turn off the light. The room fell into darkness and Reid clutched his hand as Hotch tucked him under his arm.
They spent rest of night quietly kissing and touching, Hotch doing his best to show Reid that no one was ever going to do anything like that again, and that he was truly beautiful. Reid undid each button with ease, knowing that the darkness would cover his every movement. Logically, he knew his body had obviously matured since that day, yet he couldn't shake the feeling that in the light, Hotch would see a tiny twelve year old boy.