"Ugh…" Erin groaned, loud and uncontrollable. The satin sheets underneath her were drenched with sweat. Dave's cotton T-shirt stuck to her skin. She was in hell and knowing her ex-husband was down the hall, made it that much worse.

"David!" She yelled, crawling out of bed. "If I have to be miserable, so do you." She said, stomping towards his room.

"Keep it down Vampira, some of us are trying to sleep!" Rossi yelled from behind his closed bedroom door.

"How can you even think of sleep, when I am dying in here?" Erin wailed.

"Dramatic much? You are not dying, the Devil doesn't want you yet Erin," he has enough problems without you coming in, taking over and probably trying to redecorate," Rossi threw back at her.

By now Strauss had reached Rossi's bedroom door and raised her fist, and banged on the door, loudly. "David Rossi if you don't get your behind out of that bed and come help me, I promise you, you'll regret it. You might now live long enough to regret it for long, but I promise you, you'll regret it."

"Is that so?" Rossi teased, as he rolled over in bed, to face the door, fluffed his pillows, leaned up on one elbow and gave a huge fake yawn just to goad Strauss more.

Strauss had steam coming out of her ears. She was so angry that Dave was ignoring her. (The gall of that pompous jackass, she thought, how dare he ignore me when I am going through a crisis, that he promised to help me through), consciously and conveniently forgetting the fact that she threw the man out of the room in a house he owns, no less, that she for a few blissful moments was scarcely aware of the torment of her withdrawal symptoms. A litany of curse words flowed from her lips directed towards Rossi and his antecedents.

Dave, while impressed with her creativity to string that many profane words in a row, snapped back at her, "Leave my family out of it, none of them have ever spoken a cross word against you, even after the divorce."

"Just give me your keys!" She snapped, "That's all I need," she tried to negotiate. She knew how much he enjoyed his time in bed. "then we can both have a peaceful night's sleep."

"And where exactly do you plan on driving my hundred-thousand dollar Porsche, in the middle of the night?"Dave asked, raising a brow in her direction.

"Not those keys." She hissed, holding out her hand. "Although, I wouldn't mind taking her for a spin in the daylight."

He shook his head, "I don't think so. I'm not about to contribute to your problem."

"Sounds about right, you dragged me here, you told me you would help me and then you left!" Somehow, he knew she wasn't talking about leaving her alone in the bedroom.

"You threw me out," he countered. Getting out of bed, hassling her wasn't fun anymore. "I gave you what you wanted, for the first time in 20 years."

She glared at him, "Why do you have to make it so easy to like you?"

"Why do you have such a problem with liking me?"

"Because," she crossed her arms over her chest. "We're not friends, we're not even friendly."

"That's on you," he said, crossing the room towards her. "You left me."

"You were gone well before I packed my suitcase." Erin threw back.

Flashback

"Don't worry," he said, kissing her forehead. "I'll only be gone a week or so."

"Yeah, the way Gideon drives I won't see you for a month." Erin teased and folded the last of his shirts neatly in the suitcase. She wasn't looking forward to a week without him. Commack Long Island felt like light years away from Bethesda Maryland and her mother-in-law's basement apartment wasn't the same as her dorm at NYU. Dave leaving for Pennsylvania only made things worse.

"Nu uh," Dave shook his head at his wife, "I'm driving." he jammed his thumb at his chest for emphasis.

She snapped the suitcase closed and handed it to him. "I guess I'll walk you out," she put one foot on the staircase and stopped.

"What's wrong?" He asked, his voice was full of concern.

"Nothing," she said, "I'm ready to go back to work."

"I thought we agreed you would wait until the ink was dry on the marriage certificate. I'd like someone to come home to…"

"Yeah," she crossed her arms over her turtleneck, "But we've been married less than a week and you're going back. I can't just sit here waiting for you to finish with the BAU."

"Fine." He bit out, trying to avoid the fight. "Talk to Crammer and get back out there."

"I will." She said, her shoulders squared back, chin jutted out stubbornly. She mounted the staircase, her footsteps echoed through the house. She opened the basement door and crept into the kitchen, with David behind her.

"There's the Irish girl!" Francesco Rossi praised, from his Lazy-boy, parked in the living room. Baseball blared from the television .

"Please tell him I'm not Irish," Erin hissed, grabbing her husband's hand.

"He knows." They'd only had this talk 100 times since the day Dave brought her home for the first time.

"Remind him!"

"She's not Irish, Dad." Dave threw over his shoulder. Annoyed at this constant argument.

"I know that!" Frank said jovially. He chuckled, "The only thing Irish about that girl is her hair color and her whisky." He reached for the decanter on the table beside him and poured another glass. "My boy's gotta go, but you can watch the game with me." He said and held out the glass for her.

"Go on," Dave encouraged. Tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear.

"Don't forget to root for the wrong team."

"Who's the wrong team?"

Dave shrugged, "whoever he's not betting on."

She kissed him on the cheek, "you call me when you get to the hotel."

"I plan on it. Won't even unpack first."

She crossed the threshold into the living room and took the glass. "Who's playing, Frank?"

"Cubs and Cardinals. I got $50 on the Cubs."

She threw back her drink, "that's a bad bet and you know it."

He took a sip of his drink and said, "There's no such thing."

She looked out the window, her new husband was already gone. He'd promised her the moon made of cheese and she was left holding a pack of melted Kraft of which…..

"Hey, Frank?"

Her father in law grunted in response.

"Want a sandwich?"

"You cookin?"

"Yeah."

"Nah, thanks."

"It's a grilled cheese sandwich, Frank. Not spaghetti bolognese."

He shook his head, "I'll wait on Addie."

"So that was the start of it, huh?" Dave asked, arms crossed firmly across his chest.