Spencer's most dreaded time of year was peeking its head. The firearm qualifications. The last two years he's been with the BAU, he's failed it. He feels like an inadequate agent without a gun. Like a prince without a crown.

But this time was worse than usual. He had to, once again, get Hotch to help him. And he once again failed. Even though Elle warned Derek not to tease him, Derek still gave him a whistle. A friggin' whistle for him to blow when he's in trouble. It was humiliating.

On the other hand, you were a master with a gun. Precision, technique, efficiency. That's what you valued as you fired at unsub, after unsub, after unsub. Spencer admired you like people admire fireworks. He could only dream to be as good as you.

But Hotch needed a way for Spencer to learn how to shoot. An FBI agent needs to know how to shoot, he can't only be working on geographical profiles for the rest of his career. That's why, for the requalification, he asked you to help Spencer instead of him.

Now here you are at the shooting range as Spencer squinted behind his safety glasses, trying to aim as precisely as possible. He shot off three bullets. One in the dummy's arm, one in the leg and one not even hitting the board.

The once upset pout turned into a genuine frown. He looked embarrassed and disappointment in himself. He used all the tips you told him, he aimed right, he held the gun right! He's beginning to think he's hopeless.

Nothing a little reassurance from his idol can't fix.