A/N I do not own Criminal Minds. Hello again! Don't worry my other stories are still being continued. This is just a fun, little story that's been with me for a while, that I finally had to let out. It's simply an alternative twist on our two favorite crime fighters. Also, I wanted to thank all my readers for your continued support, by making this story somewhat interactive. So, if there's any scenes/moments from the show that you'd like to see with their roles being reversed, please let me know!

Please, Enjoy!

Gun Powder Stilettos

Chapter 1: Kinda, Sorta, Simply Just

The man's lecherous smirk flashes beneath his scruffy beard as his unfocused gaze darts frantically around the warehouse. He's nervous. Already past the point of no return. Is fully aware he'll be spending the rest of his pathetic life behind bars. Has even created this awful stunt as his last mark on the world. And the only thing stopping him from making a permanent dent, is the woman standing before him, gun drawn and ready to shoot.

The agent's black polished fingertip itches to pull the trigger, but she waits. For her disdain for losing outweighs her lack of patience. It's a trait she's spent many years mastering. To keep her composure from crumbling under the strain of this job's daily brutality.

"Come on, Frank. What would your mother think if she could see you right now?" her voice is a full of disgust concealed as smooth velvet.

"She's dead!" he spat, tightening his grip on the knife. "What the fuck does it matter what she thinks?"

"It matters," keeping her voice low, she takes a small step forward. "She loved you."

"She abandoned me!" his voice echoes around the heavy machinery and the wet cement being poured into a large hole in the ground.

"No! She gave you a better life, Franklin."

"Do you know the hell I went through in foster care? Huh!" he stumbles back shielding himself behind a work bench. "I would have rather died with her out on the streets then to have lived one day with that family!"

"You're probably right," the older agent shrugged with indifference as he emerged from his hidden spot behind a rusty cement mixer.

"Stay back!" Frank raised the knife towards the child's throat. The little boy's scream was muffled by duct tape as he trembled in his abductor's arms.

"Hey, look at me," the woman spoke sharply, drawing the man's attention back to her. "Ignore him. He doesn't know anything. He's just trying to get you mad."

Frank gave her a questioning look, brows furrowed with confusion as he cautiously observed the two agents before him.

"I know he's kidnapped children," the Agent with dark hair and a fitted suit glared. "And killed them."

"I didn't kill them!" Frank barked, furiously shaking his head. "I saved them! Why can't you people see that!?"

The woman stepped closer, holding one hand up in a calming gesture. "I know, Frank. I know. You were just trying to help them," her eyes never left him as she caught sight of the rest of the team slowly getting into position behind their suspect. So far, their plan was working. Hotch and herself were pretending to take different sides. A high stakes version of good cop versus bad cop.

"You took them from their homes," gently nodding her head; doing her best to placate his fears. "So those bad people couldn't hurt them anymore."

"I'm saving them," Frank's eyes glistened with unshed tears as he swayed on his feet. "They need me."

"You're right, they need help," giving what she hoped was a reassuring smile. "But look at Sam," pointing to the boy trapped in his arms. "He's scared Frank. You did what you could. Now let me take care of him."

"No, you're going to send him back!"

Her narrowed gaze flicks to her right and locks with Prentiss. The raven-haired agent is hidden behind a pillar, weapon pointed at the floor as she slowly inches closer. "I just want to speak with him. Make sure he's okay."

"No! No, no you're lying!" face flushed with sweat, that slicks back his dirty hair and drips down his cheeks. "You're not taking him!"

Without warning, he abruptly charges forward, dragging the boy dangerously close to the open pit before them. The machine still whirling, pouring in huge slops of cement.

She waited, finger grazing over the trigger as she quickly calculates every outcome due to his lack of preparedness.

Then it happened. The boy, too, scared to move, dug his heels in, only to trip over his own sneakers. Frank, not anticipating the sudden dead weight, dropped Sam to the ground, and that was everything the BAU team needed.

Prentiss sprang into action, grabbing the boy and yanking him backwards towards safety. And that was her cue. Though, she wasn't one for quick kill shots. Like the large, sparkly floral barrette currently pinning back her curled, blonde tresses, and that made her stand out amongst the dark and bland regulated uniforms, she preferred to show mercy, when most would pull the trigger.

"Drop the weapon!" Hotch's commanding voice struck like lightning inside the desolate warehouse.

Frank was now screaming, tugging on his hair and waving his knife wildly in the air as his plans fell through the cracks. His dark eyes locked on Hotch as he staggered forward. It was the distraction she had been waiting for. She took a steely breath and ran, swiftly jumping over the large pit and slamming all her weight into Frank.

They tumble to the floor, and she quickly knocks his wrist against the ground, making the knife fly out of his grasp. He squirms, trying to flip her over, but she was faster. Snapping one cuff on his captured hand, she roughly jabs her knee into his ribs, causing him to keen inwards and turn away, releasing his free arm. She immediately catches it, wrestling with the now wailing man as she tugs it behind his back and secures it with a resounding click of her unregulated pink cuffs.

His face was cruelly digging into the cement and she pressed him further into the ground, as she leaned in close to whisper. "I could have shot you, Frank. You kidnapped and killed eleven kids. And no one would bat an eye if you were dead."

He snorted, drool dripping down his chin as he panted, "It's not because you didn't. You just simply couldn't. You're weak. Just like those boys."

"No, Frank," leaning back on her velvet, buckled ankle boots, she tugged him to his feet. "I get more joy from the fact you'll be spending the rest of your life behind bars. With nowhere to run. Surrounded by inmates, who despise men that hurt children."

Frank froze, sunken eyes growing wide only for his face to crumple in anger. Sucking in a breath, he spat, narrowly missing her face and that was all it took for the back of her elbow to knock into his gut. He buckled over, howling in pain and was about to charge into her when Hotch and Reid suddenly appeared and held him back. It took them several tedious moments to wrangle in the fuming man and drag him away.

"Hey Kitten, are you okay?" Rossi came up behind her, giving her that much needed space but remaining close enough so he could assess her for any injuries.

Managing a small smile, she gave him a short nod. Though, when she sensed his presence still looming over her, she reluctantly met his worried gaze. "We got him."

"No. You got him," Rossi smirked, arching his thick brow as they quietly watched the local officers help their teammates get Frank into the back seat of a squad car.

"Hey, Garcia," Prentiss called over her shoulder as she helped JJ take the young boy towards the waiting ambulance. "Nice take down."

Penelope promptly holstered her weapon and slowly dusted off her jacket. It was sleek, black faux leather, with small silvery studs on her shoulders. It cinched in her waist and flared over the tops of her hips, and the layered collar gave it a lovely vintage look that she simply couldn't live without.

"Nice save," she praised, nodding towards Sam who was plastered against the agent's waist. Prentiss shot her a proud smile, while JJ threw her hand up in a congratulatory high five.

Penelope stood there, letting her warm honey eyes sweep across the now bustling warehouse. Craning her neck, her fingers dug into the knotted tension of her shoulder. She was definitely going to be sore tomorrow. But it was only the afternoon, which meant the team would be back home in Quantico later today.

A broad smile graced her face as she quickly snatched her cellphone from her inner pocket. Putting it on speaker, she waited for the number one on her speed dial to pick up. It, of course, only took two rings before he answered.

"Hiya, Baby Boy!" she happily chirped.

"Well if it isn't my brazen Hot Stuff gracing me with her presence," that sweet, husky voice of her best friend purred into the phone.

Instantly her aches and pains began to subside, and the adrenaline slowly slips away. "We got him."

"Well, with killer boots like yours, I knew you would," he chuckled. She could picture him leaning back in his chair with that dazzling grin as he playfully tossed a squishy ball into the air.

"Au contraire, my technological genius, because of you we got the right address and made it just in time," releasing a content sigh. "You never cease to amaze me," absently twirling a tangled lock, she ignores Rossi's amused smirk and begins the short trek back to the SUV's.

"So, did you let someone else cuff him or did you steal the show?"

Penelope denies the implication of her temper and kicks open the rusty metal door. Letting the crisp fall air cool her heated cheeks as she squinted into the bright afternoon sky.

"Oh Morgan, your favorite crime fighter tackled him," Rossi shouted over her shoulder.

"And then she cuffed him," JJ smirked, and then took a long sip of water, before tossing an extra bottle at Prentiss.

"Don't forget she elbowed him," Reid slanted his head, carefully recalling the incident. "Oh, and hey Morgan!" he thoughtfully added his greeting, only to look sheepish at Penelope's pointed look.

"Ooh-kaay!" she huffed, fumbling to take the phone off speaker only for it to slip out of her hands and bounce off the dirt road and scrape over the pavement. "Oh frack!" she screeched, rushing to pick it up. Checking it for cracks, she harshly rubbed it over her jeans and then carefully cupped it in both hands like a delicate baby bird. "Derek?!"

"You dropped it again didn't you?" he sucked in a sharp breath between his teeth. "That's the third phone I had to reprogram. This month."

"It barely hit the ground," voice pitching to an almost inaudible squeak as she cinched her eyes shut at her little white lie.

"Is the hard cover on it?" Derek's voice was low, and laced with a hint of smugness that drove her absolutely crazy. She never knew if she wanted to smack that goofy grin off his face or lock him in his lair and make out with him.

She tightly gripped the phone, and did her best to ignore the tiny crack in the corner of the cell, that her finger kept brushing over, and the amused chuckles of her teammates. "The what?" licking her dry lips, as she turned away from the team. Derek was the one who had done Drama in High School, but Penelope could play dumb like the best of them. "Oh the pretty purple one. Mmhmm! Oh, yep it's on there. All snug like a bug in a rug."

'Too much,' Hotch mouthed quietly next to her, and the rare grin upon his face only made it worse.

"Garcia! You know how expensive that phone is? I even let you borrow Giselle!" he clicked his tongue, and the insistent tapping of a pen could be heard in the background.

"I know," she grumbled, playing with the zipper of her jacket. "I'm still paying for the time I broke Cynthia."

Morgan's famous mantra 'see, this is why you need a good case!' was drowned out by the team loudly imitating him.

"Yes, Baby Boy," she nodded along, as she slumped against the heated hood of the vehicle. "It's just, they're so bulky and they make my jeans stick out all funny."

Prentiss snorted as she opened the driver's side door. "Maybe if you wore jeans that didn't hug your ass like a second skin the damn case would fit!"

Penelope's mouth fell open as she glared over her rose gold Aviator sunglasses. "Hey, just because we work for the government, doesn't mean we have to look like we work for the government!"

"I, for one, think Kitten always looks lovely," Rossi waggled his thick brows at her before hopping up into the passenger seat.

"Thanks, David!" Penelope cooed, sticking her nose in the air.

"So, I'll see you soon then?" Derek cleared his throat, instantly pulling her back down to Earth.

"Yep! Order the three-cheese pizza and I'll pick up some Twizzlers," taking him off speaker, before she said goodbye. "And I swear on my retailed Jimmy Choo's, if you pick Blade Runner one more time, I'm canceling movie night for next week. And the week after. No, you know what, the whole damn month will be nixed."

"Hey now, you love that movie. I've seen you recite like half the damn lines woman," he chuckled, but when he got silence in return, he quickly added. "I promise Mama, I'll pick something not too girly and not too sci-fi-y," he teased.

"That's better," she hummed in approval, watching the whirling red and blue lights dance across the metal walls of the warehouse. "Okay, I'll see you soon!"

"You already know your seat will be warm for you."

She felt her cheeks bloom with heat and was just about to hang up when he suddenly spoke quickly and so quietly that she had to strain to hear him over all the excess noise happening around the crime scene.

"I love the way you look in your jeans, too."

And then he was gone.

Her eyes went wide as she dropped the phone to her waist and glared at it. As if she could see him in the screen and figure out what the hell he had just said. Because what he said, sounded like flirting. And who they were, were just Morgan and Garcia. Good Ol' Garcia and Morgan. You know, each other's best friends. Buddies. Pals. Totally, one hundred percent, platonic beings that didn't flirt.

Well, they were downright raunchy with their jokes and borderline inappropriate at work. But they didn't flirt-flirt.

No, not like that.

Penelope had tried long ago. Had always questioned the line that they often, dangerously, toed. Though, they never, ever, crossed it. Even if everyone at the FBI believed that they had.

So, if it wasn't flirting, then why did her heart just flutter like he had dazzled her with magic?

"Tell me again why we're here?" Kevin grunted, struggling to pull his abdomen off the ground and do another sit-up.

"Because..." Derek huffed, beads of sweat dripping down his scrunched up face as he pushed the heavy barbell upwards for another repetition. "I want to...get in shape."

Kevin's bent elbows struggled to hit his knees before he dropped back to the floor in a loud heap. "Well, technically, considering you have minimal body fat, I'm pretty sure you already qualify as being fit."

Derek frowned as he settled the bar onto the rack and gradually sat up. "That physical is coming up soon. Just wanna be prepared is all."

"That's for agents," Kevin snorted, rolling his eyes. "You know us technical analysts don't really have to worry about passing that test, right? And if they, by some slim chance, made those of us who sit at computer desks all day take this very elite physical, then you'd be like the only analyst to pass the damn thing. With flying colors."

"I mean, I wouldn't fail," Derek straightened his shoulders, like a peacock showing off its intricate feathers. "But I do need to focus on a few areas," Derek wiped his brow and tossed the white towel over his thin cotton t-shirt. Growing up he had always carried a little more pudge than others, but over the last few years he had changed some habits and really invested in creating a healthier lifestyle for himself. Though, he was now well toned, he still wasn't one to show off. "Anyway, I gotta leave in a few minutes. It's movie night."

"Oooh! Okay, so what you meant to say was, you haven't been to the gym all week because your teams been gone, but now that she's on her way back, you're trying to burn off all those extra wings and beer you had," a huge, knowing smirk covered Kevin's face. "Garcia..." slowly shaking his head, unable to disguise his chuckle. "Should've known."

Derek peered over his sleek tortoiseshell glasses while warily untwisting the cap to his bottle, before giving a pointed look and chugging down half the water.

Kevin gives an inelegant snort, before planting his hands on the mat and pushing himself off the floor. "Dude, seriously when are you gonna ask her out?"

The sudden sputter and heaving cough were his only answer as Derek tried not to choke on his drink.

"What!? Why! No...because she wouldn't...I-I wouldn't...what!" he wheezed, patting his own chest to help clear his throat.

"For a man that analyzes things for a living, you really can be dense at times," Kevin deadpanned, removing his own bulky frames as he roughly swiped the back of his arm across his sweaty brow. "Well Champ, when you figure it out. I expect to be the best man at the wedding."

"Kev!" Derek's eyes went wide as he desperately waved his hand up-and-down in a hushing motion. "We're at work man. Someone could hear you!"

Kevin chuckled, as he shoved his glasses back on and dug for his keys inside the pocket of his baggy, neon orange basketball shorts, only to take several big steps back and shout into the nearly empty gym. "Tell Agent Garcia I said hello while y'all cuddle on the couch watching rom-coms!"

A few off duty agents in the back of the gym chuckled in amusement, making Derek's cheeks flush scarlet with embarrassment.

"Dammit man!" Derek chucked his towel at the back of Kevin's retreating form and then stood planted in the basement of their work as the severity of his friends words began to sink in.

What the hell did Lynch know about his relationship with Garcia!?

First of all, it wasn't a relationship. It was a friendship. A purely sweet, strictly platonic, but sometimes full of heated gazes, lingering touches and dirty innuendos that instantly made his dick hard, kinda friendship.

Adjusting the sudden bulge in his sweats when the image of her flared hips and full breasts pops in his head. He goes completely still, needing to focus on calming his ragged breaths, only to fail at ignoring the pulsing thump of his heart that only ever seized when Penelope was around.

Yeah, that was a token of their friendship. Came with being her best friend. The inability to not fall absolutely in love with her.

Damn!

He had been through this. Many, many times. Had spent years shoving those untouched emotions back down, and out of sight. Because there was absolutely, no way, that he was already head over heels, in love with her. And if he didn't want to fuck up the best thing that's ever happened to him, he would have to learn not to trip over his own two feet.

Derek swiftly turned around on his untied Converse, then added another fifteen pounds to each side of the barbell, before plopping back down on the bench. His steely gaze was full of determination as he rolled his shoulders a few times and laid down.

As he quickly pumped out a few more intense reps, he kept reminding himself that he wasn't sticking around the gym to make his already toned muscles pop with definition because he wanted Penelope to notice them. Considering she seemed to have an affinity for rock hard abs and firm biceps. No, he wasn't doing another quick round at the gym for her. Nope. Not his Garcia. His best friend that didn't find him attractive enough to date. Not that he had ever really asked, but he didn't need to. He had known her long enough to know all about the types of men she preferred to date.

Those bad boy, tatted jocks, with bulging muscles and the IQ of a gnat. He was revving up to cuss out her last boyfriend, Alex, no Felix, whatever, the dude had a neck tattoo, drove a custom flame painted Charger, and couldn't find his way out of a paper bag with a flashlight and a map, when his cellphone suddenly vibrates with that special ringtone. Slamming the weight down on the rack, he nearly fell off the bench trying to reach for it.

A text message pops up and that huge grin spreads across his face.

Just landed, my Mighty Microsoft Man!

Staring at the winking emoji for a hard minute, before quickly getting up and tossing all his things into the small duffel bag, only to trip over his loose shoelace and slam his hip into the bench.

Easy, Morgan!

It's just Penelope.

Though, his goofy grin only widens as his pace quickens. Rushing towards the elevator so he could get back home in time, and that's when he feels the familiar flurry of affection constrict that significant spot in his chest.

Because the woman you love is coming home...

Oh my...holy shit!

This time the sentiment lingers, blazing through him with the intensity of a wild fire. It steals his breath, nearly knocking him over and he has to clutch the railing to keep his suddenly tense body upright. He glares straight ahead, feebly watching as the elevator doors slide close, encasing him with a realization he wasn't sure how to fully digest.

Because Penelope was kinda, sorta, simply just…supposed to be his very good friend.

Keep telling yourself that, Morgan.

And maybe one day you'll be convinced.

To be continued…