Summery: Spencer feels out of place in the FBI and Morgan comforts him.

Notes: I am so sorry I haven't updated in so long. I've been really busy with school and my novel. I have a lot of prompts and I'm really excited to start doing them. I am going on vacation soon so I will be able to write on the plane and in the car which will be nice.

VERY IMPORTANT: I accidently deleted all of the prompts in November. So if you gave me a prompt before November and I haven't filled it yet, you need to resend it. If you're not sure, resend it anyway.

Music: Read All About It by Emeli Sande.

BREAK

"Oh, you're a profiler?" the woman sneered. "Profilers don't belong in the FBI. You can't really do anything useful." She took an angry sip from her coffee.

My lips dropped and my smile was gone. I had been hesitant to approach the woman at all, but she had sounded so passionate about the FBI on the phone with her friend, I just wanted to see if I could have a discussion with her. Bad idea, I guess.

"I…I," I stuttered, rubbing my arm. My sweater vest kept catching on my nails.

"Go do something useful with your time," the woman snapped and stalked away, her heels stomping against the tiled floor of the coffee shop.

I clenched my teeth until my jaw hurt.

BREAK

I ambled into the empty elevator, satchel bumping against my hip.

Just as the doors were closing, a man slid through the crack. The doors caught his foot and the man flailed. He yanked his foot out.

"Damn," he muttered, dusting imaginary dust from his suit. The man straightened and he saw my reflection in the panels. He stiffened and shuffled away from me. "Profiler," came out in a cloud of disgust from his lips. "Don't fucking belong in the FBI," he muttered.

I shrank back.

BREAK

We were just lazing around the bullpen, half heartedly filling out paperwork. Having gotten back to DC from Florida the night before, we were all still pretty tired.

"Hey, Morgan?" I hesitantly started.

Morgan turned to me, obviously happy about the excuse not to do his paperwork. "What's up, Pretty Boy?" he asked.

I rubbed the back of my neck. "Do you ever think that maybe we don't belong in the FBI?"

"Excuse me?" He raised an eyebrow. "What made you think that?"

"W-well," I stuttered, "I mean, whenever I tell people that I'm a profiler, they either don't know what we do or think we do nothing. Even other people in the FBI think we're useless."

"Do you think we're useless?" Morgan asked, staring at me with a serious expression.

"Of course not!" I said indignantly, sitting straighter in my chair. I can't believe he would ever think that.

"Then who cares what those other people think? We know about the people we help, we know about the people we save. Just because most people think that we don't belong, doesn't mean it's true."

I nodded, mulling over his words. "I guess you're right."

Morgan stood. He walked past me, dropping a kiss onto my forehead. "I know I'm right."

BREAK

I know it's not very long, but I'm trying to get back into the groove.

Leave me prompts!