A/N: Initially this was supposed to be a fluffy random prompt provided by the awesome Nix1978 (A day off, an accidental meeting, a sports car), but inspiration is a sly minx and from a story packed with love and tenderness it turned into an action game at the crossroad between Criminal Minds, the Fast and the Furious and 24.

Many, many thanks to Nix1978: you're awesome, for a lot of reasons, and in this particular case, for prodding my fantasy and patiently beta'ing my drabbles! Thank you!

PLEASE R&R :)

Emily and Reid walk down the deserted, dark bullpen and bid goodnight to the office that has become more familiar than their own houses over the last few years. Too many times they've been leaving the bureau when everybody else was long gone, but it's okay. They love their job and do it with commitment, but this doesn't annihilate the weariness of the body, that claims some sleeps after a three day long case. They're so tired they don't even speak to each other as they drag themselves down the silent corridor. Reid starts off with a funny anecdote, but his mouth gapes and closes without a sound as he spots out of the corner of his eye Emily's grumpy expression in return.

They stop outside of one of the few offices with the lights still on; Morgan and Garcia are inside tiredly joking about her fluffy pen.

"Seriously baby girl, how do you even manage to write with that thing?" Morgan asks, amused.

"What do you mean?" she eyes him resentfully, "how do you dare criticize my impeccable style choices?"

Morgan leans forward, getting ready to explain how uncomfortable he thinks it is to write with a dolphin shaped pen, but then his mouth fells open and he raises his arms in defeat, "Forget it, babygirl" he chuckles with an exhausted grin on his face.

"Ok guys," the techie carries on, "we're all pretty beat. So I say, let's go to sleep and I'll see you tomorrow at mine for the barbeque."

"Oh, sleep. The magic word…" Emily sighs, leaning on the doorframe and longing for the moment when she'll doze off.

"Hey Garcia, are we covered with food and drinks?" Derek asks.

"Almost, Rossi is going to bring some of his creations, but maybe you and the sleeping beauty can stop at a grocery to get some more beer and chips…"

"Sure we can," Derek offers, passing by Penelope and kissing her head, "Emily, I'll pick you up at 10.30 and then we'll go to the store."

They're about to walk to the elevator when they all see Hotch, Rossi and JJ staring at the screen in the bullpen. The news is showing aerial footage of a chase on the highway in action-movie style. 'Two sports car thieves, riding two different stolen vehicles, a Porche and a Ferrari, upset the traffic in DC today, engaging a race on the away in the attempt to escape the police.' the reporter explains, 'After a thrilling chase the DCPD was able to catch one of the fugitives, whereas the second one vanished. Apparently these two men alone are responsible for a number of sports cars thefts over the last ten days.' Then the frame changes and the lead detective on the case appears, giving a press conference, 'Although Pete Bello is not a violent offender, he is a fugitive and shouldn't be underestimated. If you see him, don't try to engage any contact but call the police immediately.' He warns while a picture of Bello pops up on the screen.

"Nice ride," Morgan comments.

"And the Ferrari won," Rossi jokingly comments, "Italian car…"

"Come on Rossi, we both know it's not just the car, the driver makes the difference too," Morgan counters.

"You're right, infact Bello is an Italian surname." The older profiler smirks, causing the rest of the team to giggle and Morgan to roll his eyes in amusement.

They bid their good nights and head then, toward the deserved rest.

/

"Hey, do you want to remind me why during our day off we are getting up early to have a barbecue with the people we already see everyday, instead of just sleeping and… sleeping?" Emily greets Morgan grumpily as she gets in his car.

"Morning to you too, sunshine!" he chuckles, eyeing her from behind his sunglasses.

"Seriously, how can you be so cheerful and well rested after few hours of sleep and a tough case?" she argues.

"I'm not." He smiles, "I'm actually dead tired; but I'm also starving, and we're heading to Garcia's place, where Kevin has the grill ready and the television set on the sport channel…"

Emily's gaze turns immediately, an interrogative frown not promising any good drawing a line on her forehead, "Explain?"

"This afternoon the football is on, so while you ladies have girls' chats, us boys will sit on the couch in front of the screen and watch the match together…"

"So, you guys have set this all up so that you could watch a bunch of cavemen getting muddy while they fight over a ball. I dragged myself out of bed for that?" Her tone gets slower and sharper by the second.

"Oh, come on Prentiss. Don't act like you've been the victim of a scam. It will be fun, just relax."

"Sure it will be. Once you guys have explained to Garcia the reason for this barbecue, and she's hacked into the system and fried the cable tv. Oh, I do see a lot of fun in my future!" she snorts at Derek's dumbfounded expression.

The rest of the journey to the grocery store is spent with a cheerful and pleased Emily and a suddenly silent Morgan. Once they get to the shop, Emily goes ahead and can see, as she walks away, Derek unfolding the phone and calling the boys for a back up plan. She's still smiling inside when she enters the shop, and she doesn't notice the tense expression on the cashier, or the uncharacteristically stiff couple lining up at the counter, or the young mom with her six year old daughter wrapped around her hips. What she notices though, when she gets in front of the beers selection, is the reflection of the kid and the man in the mirror at the top of the corridor. Automatically her hand goes to her side, just to be disappointed by the absence of her holster.

oOo

"All right, my man. Will do that. I'll see you later." Derek settles as he hangs up the phone on Rossi, who assured he will find a leverage to soothe the ladies' rage so that their plan doesn't go awry. Morgan sighs reassured as he gets out of the car and heads toward the store; just before entering the shop he distractedly notices the car. Difficult not to draw the attention of a black Ferrari parked among all these old pick-ups and station wagons, even if parked in the distance. The news he watched the night before, pops up in his mind, but then he realizes only a stupid beginner wouldn't get rid of the car for a more inconspicuous ride. And two guys who steal so many cars undetected over a short time are not newbie's.

As he enters the store, he nods to the clerk behind the counter, who greets him back with a thin smile. Then he heads to the beer section where he finds Emily, staring intently at the bottles, "Hey, I get that you're pissed and you have your reasons," he starts, "but how about I promise I'll make it up to you?" he jokes, and as she turns toward him, he realizes immediately that there's something wrong. He doesn't have the time to ask what's the matter, because before he even opens his mouth, Emily has closed the distance and sealed his lips with a kiss. Her body pressing against his and her hands snaked around his neck; he barely has the chance to realize what's happening, let alone to react in someway. In a matter of seconds she has broken the kiss, her cheek lightly grazing his cheek and once her lips are close to his ear, she whispers two words, and of all the possible selection of sentences he would expect to hear now, this is the least likely, "Hostage situation."

His body stiffens a bit, he regains lucidity and awareness and at that point he wraps her waist in a tight hug, keeping up the charade, "Where?" he asks, pretending a kiss on her neck.

"Next aisle. Mirror." Derek lifts casually his gaze to see the reflection of a man crouched down on the floor and pointing a gun to the neck of a young boy, who can't be older than ten.

She whispers, something else to his ear and he can't help taking a step back, a deep frown on his forehead. They exchange a long look, "It's fine," she smiles, "now go and get your wallet, honey or we will never get to that barbecue."

He nods, and takes a step away, but he changes his mind and turns around, pulling her closer and kissing her. It's a possessive and a bit more passionate kiss that their act should require she thinks, but this is not the moment for such considerations.

Once the kiss is broken, they stare at each other for a second, confusion, curiosity and doubt filling their looks; then Derek walks away. He passes by the astonished clients and cashier, whose expression are more and more terrified by the second, he opens the door so that the door bell can tinkle, he closes it and he carefully keeps out of the armed man's visual. He then gestures the people few meters away from him to keep silent as he squats down to his ankle and pulls his gun.

"I'll handle the hostage", this is what Emily whispered to his ear after kissing him. That's what made him frown in disapproval; the idea of putting his unarmed partner in front of a criminal, who never killed anybody and is by now probably edgy, with an hostage. This is what she was reassuring him about, when she told him she would be fine. And when he kissed her back so vehemently he was warning her not to screw this up and to take care. This, the meaning of their newly coined secret code of communication, he thinks. But there's not time now to indulge in the feeling of her velvet lips, of her scent, or of her silky touch.

Emily pretends to go on searching the different brands of beers; then once she's out of the mirror's sight, she takes a deep breath and comes to face with the man. The kid is frozen with a mask of fear. The man is sweaty, edgy and his hand is shaking. Emily raises her hands and slows down her movements, "calm down. No panic. I just want to talk and to check how this little man's doing" she starts, "My name is Emily, what's your name buddy?" she asks the kid.

"Josh," the kids mutters with broken voice. All considering he's behaving very well, much better than his kidnapper.

"I'm Pete," the man introduces himself, with heavy panting, panic in his voice, "Look, I know what you think," he carries on.

"What do you think I think?" Emily tries to engage him so that he can relax a bit.

"That I'm a loser and probably an addict, a poor bastard who tried to rob a shop to get by. But it's not true; I've never done anything bad in my life! I'm a good person who ended up in a big trouble and now needs a way out."

"Pete, I believe you." Emily looks at the man's eyes widening at her words, "but right now you took a kid as hostage. To me this doesn't look like a good way to get out of the gutter… Why don't you let him go?"

"Sure," he chuckles in distress, "and then how do I get out of here?"

Morgan slowly checks the situation coming behind the man's shoulder and Emily lightly shakes her head; the man is already tense, he feels a trap and he might snap to an extreme solution.

Emily looks at the kid's begging eyes, then at the more and more tense man, and evaluates her options. When she decides, she knows that Derek is not going to like it, "Listen Pete, our friend Josh is really scared and would like to go back to his mommy and his sister. So why don't you let him go, while you and I go for a ride?"

Derek's and Pete's eyes widen simultaneously, "you are offering yourself as a hostage instead of the kid…" Pete begs to clarify.

"I am."

"Why?"

"Because this kid is scared as hell and you might want somebody to talk to before you screw it up completely."

Pete stares at her for a long moment, then he motions her to walk toward him. The moment Josh runs away, Emily finds a gun pointed to her temple.

He starts walking her toward the exit, and there he finds Derek with his gun drawn and no intention to let him go.

"Prince Charming is back," Pete nervously addresses him, "Look, I'm not going to do anything to your woman, I just want a way out of here. I drive her to the next petrol station and I drop her."

"Sorry man, but I can't let you go," Derek argues, Pete is about to answer when suddenly it's like hell broke loose. Gunshots coming from the parking lot send the glass window into pieces and oblige the profiler to jump on the side and crouch on the floor.

Taking advantage of the mess Pete runs away toward the back door, dragging Prentiss with him and getting to the parking lot where the car is.

He shoves her in the driving seat and keeps his gun pointed at her head, "Now drive!"

It takes several minutes before Pete stops turning frantically and checking if somebody is tailing them.

"Those were not friends of yours, right?" Prentiss asks when his breath had returned regular.

"What a brilliant deduction, Watson…" he bitterly answers.

"One might have thought they were trying to get you out of that shop, shooting at my colleague," she justifies, keeping her eyes on the road.

"Ah, your colleague. Nice trick you played in there."

"You were holding a kid as hostage, Pete."

"What are you then? Cops?"

"FBI, I work with the Behavioral Analysis Unit."

"Oh Great, Feds…" he whines on the verge of panic, "I kidnapped a fucking fed! This is the freaking cherry on the top of the pie!"

Emily studies his face for a second, then frowns "Sorry Pete, but I have to ask. Are you just a not very brilliant beginner or simply a very crappy criminal?"

The man looks at her dumbfounded, and then loosens up in a desperate laugh, "I guess more the first option. But I definitely reckon that this is not my best performance."

"Then why?" she asks, hoping she can establish some kind of communication with him.

So, what do you think? Should I go on?