AN: First, I'd like to tell everyone I will be editing a few mistakes I made in the story so far (I need to start paying more attention to numbers, because according to what I have written, Yumi and Ulrich sat through like, 4 hours of silence after she woke up from passing out. Haha!)

Secondly, woohoo! Chapter is DONE and updated and wow, I'm happy. Haha, it's amazing how writing makes me so happy. :) So read, and tell me what you think, alright?

She took a moment to ingest the news, "Alright, that's alright," She laughed, "I can dig out a cook book from somewhere, and we can make ourselves something. Of course, it won't be gourmet, but well."

"Deal," he smiled, and took her hand again, leading her up the stairs. The click of her shoes on the linoleum steps filled the silence between the two. Ulrich, desperate for conversation, blurted out "Don't those shoes kill your feet?"

Yumi giggled, "Only after a 12 hour work day, and all fourteen flights of stairs," Turning her head to face him, she inquired "Why?"

He smirked, "Well, I've always wanted to buy a pair for myself, I could use a few more inches." He stood on his toes to prove his point, only becoming an inch or two taller than his companion. She let out a frustrated sigh and took her shoes off.

"Happy?" Now, he had a good four inches on her. Ulrich nodded, and came down off his toes.

"Very."

"Good," She laughed, lookoing back down at her now bare feet. Once again, silence overtook the two. What hadn't they covered in the conversation earlier that day? There wasn't much they hadn't covered. Jobs, friends, Xana, relationships, was there anything left? Her mind raced for an idea to break the silence.

She didn't have to think much longer before they reached her door. Fishing through her purse for her key, she reminded herself to put it back on the key ring with the rest of them. Looking over her shoulder, Ulrich reached in and grabbed the silver key, "Looking for this?" He asked, as he quickly opened the door, holding it open as she stepped inside.

She smiled at him, "Thanks." Looking around, she was glad she cleaned up. "Make yourself at home, I've got to find a cook book," she began rummaging through a bookshelf, "but I'll call you over when we've got something to cook. Any preference?"

"As long as it's not raw fish, I'm good," He pretended to gag jokingly.

"Your loss!" She picked up a book, flipping through it quickly. "I don't think I've ever looked at this old thing before," Yumi could hear Ulrich chuckle, "Hey, don't laugh, I'm sure you didn't pay attention during cooking class either."

After he entered the room, he stood behind her, looking over her shoulder at the book. "Nope, in fact, I think I failed it the first time through." He pointed at a word on the page, "What's a smidgen?"

By the puzzled look on her face, Ulrich could tell she had no clue either. "I think it is somewhere between a pinch, and a dash, but I really don't know." (an: and who can blame her! I sure as heck don't.) Frustrated, she closed the book. "The way I see it, we've got two options. A. Order pizza and make the delivery guy walk up 14 flights of stairs, or B. We make pasta."

Raising his hand to his chin, Ulrich pretended to look in deep thought, "The first idea sounds like fun, but I think we should go with option B."

"Good choice." She smiled, bending down to open a cabinet door and take out a pot. "Be a dear and get the spaghetti out of the pantry for me?"

He raised an eyebrow at her, "Be a dear? You're starting to sound like my mother," she flushed, and he grinned. Opening the door, he took out the box and handed it to her.

"Sauce?" Yumi held out her hand once more. Handing her the bottle, he turned the burner on. He added a dash of salt to the water in the pot, and pulled a stool over to the counter. "Don't sit there and stare at it, or it'll never boil."

Lazily, he shook his head, "You believe that kind of stuff?"

Nodding, she took out a smaller pot for the sauce, "It was one of the few things my mom ever taught me about cooking," she smiled, "So I'm bound to believe it."

"Too bad your mom can't cook for us," he put a piece or raw spaghetti in his mouth, "I remember when she made us that pick-nick once," biting a piece off, he continued, "that had to be the best food I've ever digested before. Minus the sushi."

As the water boiled, she put the noodles in, "What has sushi ever done to you?" she side tracked to send him a questioning look, with one hand placed delicately on her hip.

Mimicking her position, he jutted his hip to one side, "It forgot to swim away."

"Not a big fan of fish, I'm guessing?" Yumi pulled a stool over and sat across from him. He shook his head, "So no fish at our wedding, then?"

Immediately, her eyes opened wide, and her face flushed a dark magenta, "I mean, you're wedding. There won't be fish at your wedding." He smiled wide, and got up from his stool, walking past her to pot, where the water has begun to boil over. Turning down the heat, he stirred it a little.

In a quiet voice, he said "Not unless you want fish on the menu, Yumi."

AN: Yay! Press the review button and make me real happy, okay? I need it right now, lmao. Boy is life stressful! Thank you for reading!

Aimee