The Profiling 101 lecture had started like every other one before it. Rossi did most of the talking- classic Rossi, leaning on stories and case breakdowns all while the rest of the team stood at the front of the auditorium. Hotch’s posture screamed military strict, JJ stayed professional, Prentiss was sharp-eyed, Reid rambled stats when prompted, and Garcia added some color with her bright slides.

Then there was you.

Some college student slouched in your chair, twirling a pen like you’d rather be anywhere else, occasionally whispering a sarcastic comment to the kid next to you. Every time Reid mentioned something technical, you snorted like you already knew it- or worse, like it was obvious.

Morgan noticed first. His sharp eyes flicked over mid lecture, lingering just long enough for you to feel the weight of it. Hotch gave a glance too, subtle but disapproving. Prentiss smirked like she was waiting for you to crash and burn. Garcia looked personally offended.

Morgan? He just cocked an eyebrow. “Kid thinks they’re too good for class,” he thought, amused. But the team stayed professional, no one calling you out. But the BAU rarely missed details, and Morgan wasn’t about to forget the face of the one student acting like they had the whole game figured out.

Hours later, Rossi invited everyone to his place for dinner after a rough visit with Yates. The team arrived before him, shaking off the weight of the case or at least the memory and what they knew Rossi had been going through reviewing the Tommy Yates case as they climbed the steps to his front porch. Morgan, standing at the back, was already half joking with Garcia when the front door swung open.

And there you were. The same kid from the lecture with your arms crossed in the doorway like you belonged there. Because you did. “Evenin’,” you said casually, as if you weren’t standing in Rossi’s home opening his door to the entire BAU.

The silence that followed was priceless. JJ blinked, Reid’s mouth actually dropped open, Garcia made a squeaky noise, and Prentiss muttered, “No way.”Morgan took one slow step forward, arms folding across his chest. That trademark grin spread across his face.

“Well, well, well… look who it is. Profiling 101’s class clown. Somebody wanna explain why the kid wasting my time in a seminar is suddenly answering Rossi’s front door?”

Your expression didn’t falter. “I live here. Who else is supposed to answer the door?”Morgan barked a laugh. To be fair all of them did because it sounded so wrong.. Rossi would’ve told them.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me. Rossi, didn’t tell us his kid was in that class?”

You didn’t respond. You didn’t need to.. It was just you, leaning in the doorway, unfazed by six FBI agents staring like you’d grown a second head. Morgan shook his head, chuckling low.

“Unbelievable. Had me pegging you as some smart-mouthed kid trying to skate through criminology, but nah… turns out you’ve been eating profiling terms for breakfast since you were in diapers.”