Author's Note: Sorry for the long update. School's been freakin' killing me this term, but Thanksgiving break is fast approaching, so hopefully I'll get more writing time in then. But anyway, I'd just like to say thanks to the people who reviewed Chapter 4: Marble Meadow, InvisibleAciren, imjustagirl0077, and JACinthebox. You guys are all great. And to you other readers, I know you're out there, so please make my day brighter and review! I'd really appreciate it.

This is probably one of my favorite chapters thus far, and I'd like to dedicate it to Marble Meadow, whose review back in July totally rocked my socks.

Luckily, Cartman's report card came on one of our tutoring days, so after school, I get the chance to properly congratulate him.

And to also completely violate his "wishes" he made that morning of "never touching him again".

Needless to say, it's another interesting afternoon at the Cartman residence. But Cartman seems less than enthusiastic for some reason. I break away from him and study his face. Yep, I was right; he looks like he has something on his mind. "Is something wrong, Cartman?" I ask.

He stares at me, lost in thought. Then he quickly answers, "No."

"Come on, you can tell me. What is it?" I press on.

Finally, I seem to break him. He takes a breath and slowly answers me. "Well, Kyle," he pauses, trying to get his words out right, "I've been doing some thinking, and I want to do more…with you."

It takes me a while to realize what he means. When I do, I wrinkle my nose in disgust. "You're sick, Cartman! What makes you think I'd want to go down on you?!"

Cartman pinches the bridge of his nose, thoroughly shaking his head. "God dammit, Kyle, you're such a stupid Jew. That's not that what I meant at all."

Blood instantly fills my cheeks. "It's not?"

Cartman looks annoyed with me. "No."

"Then what did you mean?"

"I meant, uh…" He looks nervous, but then he blurts out, "I think we should spend more time together…uh, away from here. Alone."

What? I take time to process this thoroughly, "You mean…like a date?" I suppress the urge to giggle wildly.

His eyes widen at my response. "Dammit, Kyle, no, not like a date! You're such a stupid piece of crap!" Then he pauses, noticing my questioning, disbelieving stare. "Okay, fine. Maybe. Sorta. So…what do you think?"

Wow. I wasn't expecting that at all. How can I answer that?

"Um…" I start out.

I've never thought about it before, going on a date with Cartman. That idea in itself sounds ridiculous. How could that possibly work?

"Not that I'm answering you one way or the other, but how could we go on a date?" I ask, repeating myself out loud.

"What do you mean, 'how'?"

"I mean, how would it work? If we went on a date, people would see us, and then they'd know something was going on. And you promised no one would find out."

Cartman glances around the room, trying to think of an answer. "I don't know. But I'll figure something out."

I further my search for plausibility. "And how would we get there? There's no way we could ask our parents to take us, and we're too young to drive ourselves."

Cartman stares at me blankly, his tone emotionless. "I'll figure something out," he repeats himself. He looks frustrated.

I feel kind of bad for bashing his hopes like that. "Tell you what, Cartman. If you can find some way to make this happen without breaking our pact or killing anybody, then maybe, just maybe, I'll agree to go on a date…with you," I finish awkwardly. It's still a little weird for me to say that.

Cartman brightens up after I say this, and he gets a determined gleam in his eye, the same gleam he gets when he's about to do something morally wrong or illegal. Oh, shit. What have I done?

"No killing anybody," I repeat.

Cartman scoffs and shakes his head. "I heard you the first time, Jew. Why would it matter to you, anyway? You're the one who killed Jesus, you fuckin' Heeb."

"Shut your mouth, fatass," I hiss, my eyes narrowing into tiny slits. It's funny; even with how much my relationship with Cartman has changed over the past month, he still manages to piss me off just as much as he did before. It's funny to think about how quick he just went from asking me on a date to belittling my people--it was less than a minute. He's such a dick. I hate him so much.

I decide to shove him.

He gets mad and shoves me back.

The next thing I know, we're into some serious fighting. Well, as serious as we both can be; neither of us is too great of a fighter. Still, I manage to get a few good punches in, and he does too. Suddenly, he has me against the wall, choking the life out of me, or at least trying to. I find a way out of his grip and with all my strength, I push himagainst the wall, preparing to strangle him right back. My anger has reached its highest point; I can feelit burning to the surface. My blood feels like it's literally boiling; my face is hot and sweaty and sticky from all the physical exertion. Finally, I get my chance to wrap my hands around his stupid fat neck, and…I kiss him.

Another thing that's funny is how often that happens.

Don't ask me why, but fighting really does something for both of us. And considering how intense we get during our fights and arguments, it's really easy to turn all that physical energy in a completely different direction. It always turns out hot, aggressive, and…passionate.

In other words, it's exciting to be with Eric Cartman.

A little while after slamming Cartman to the floor, my travels back to his proposition of a date. Hah! What a ridiculous idea. Why would he want to go on a date with me?

I'd laugh if he actually found a way to make it happen.

About thirty minutes after Kyle leaves, my mom comes home from "work" (I don't even know what she does), and she starts to prepare dinner. It's amazing how great my timing always is for this. Being with Kyle can really work up my appetite, and by the time my hunger has reached full force, my mom's home and dinner's waiting for me. It's totally sweet.

In those thirty minutes I was alone, I thought really hard to come up with a plan for how I could get that date with Kyle. I wasn't planning on asking him about it today, but he started looking at me with those goddamn pleading eyes, and I felt compelled to tell him what I was thinking. Sometimes I hate him so much seriously.

He seemed unsure at first when I suggested it, but maybe once I get this plan to work he'll want to. Since I just came up with the idea thismorning, I can't really say I don't have my doubts too, but after thinking about it all day, I know it's something I want to do. It took me until last period to realize that is what I want specifically, and while I do realize how homo the whole idea is, it's not really that much gayer than what we've been doing. It's just more shit to get used to. Besides, it's what I want. And what I want, I get, no matter what the hell it is.

So, I have a plan.

Since we can't be seen anywhere in South Park, we're gonna have to go out of town instead. I was thinking North Park since it's not too far away and hardly anybody from our town ever goes there, except maybe for away football games or for some other lame high school sport.

And how we're gonna get there…well, I need to talk to my mom.

I saunter into the kitchen, where my mom is getting dinner ready. Looks like lasagna. I let out a deep breath and prepare the most convincing voice I can muster.

"Moooooooooom?"

"Yes, poopykins?" she answers, not looking back at me.

"I was wooooonderiiiiing…" I draw out slowly and sweetly, "if I could borrow your car this weeeeeekend for a very important reeeeeeasonnnn…"

That oughtta get her.

"And what reason is that, sweetie?"

Fuck! I wasn't expecting that one. You're a smart one, you filthy bitch. "Um, well, I can't tell you, but it's very impooooortaaaant…"

"I'm sorry, honey bear, but I can't lend you my car if I don't know why you need it so badly," she replies, adding a layer of pasta to the lasagna. "And besides, you're too young to drive."

God dammit, don't make me hit you, woman! "Well, no, not really. I have my learner's permit, and I already know how to drive reeeeeeeally well. I proooomise I won't get pulled over or wreck or anything! Pleeeeeeeeeease, moooooooooom…"

"I don't know…"

I was really hoping it wouldn't come to this. But I am not walking out of here without getting my way. So, I let go of my inhibitions (not that I have that many to begin with) and proceed to throw a tantrum.

Like a fucking four-year-old. Or, in my case, like a nine-year-old. Whatever. I don't give a fuck.

I'm way too old for this, I know. I'm even starting to embarrass myself. But it seems to work out nicely. When I'm finished, I hear my mom's voice, agreeing to my wishes.

Sweet.

"But," she adds, ruining my moment of triumph, "before I let you do anything, you have to tell me why you're borrowing mommy's car, if it's so important."

My face falls. "I can't."

"Then I'm sorry, sweetie. If you can't tell me, I can't let you borrow my car." She pauses and frowns. I think it makes her sad when I don't tell her shit. "Why can't you tell mommy? You're not planning to transfer a dead body, are you?"

"No, nothing of that sort." Then I mutter under my breath, "Not anymore, anyway."

"Then why are you embarrassed to tell me? Does my baby have a date, or…?" she starts to suggest, and my face turns hot pink. For some reason I'm rendered speechless. At my moment of silence, she finally turns to look at me, and she realizes she's right.

Son of a fucking bitch.

"That's it, isn't it?" she adds pointlessly.

I try to hide my embarrassment, even though it's too late. She's already seen right through me. "No!" I attempt.

"Well, that's too bad…" she starts out, and I know where this is going. The bitch knows how to fight on my level. "…if it was for a date, I might let you have my car for the night, but since it's not…"

I'm clearly stuck now. There's no other way out of this. I could try another tantrum, but I don't think it'll do much good.

"Dammit, mom, you win." I spit out venomously. I'm pissed it had to come to this. "I wanna go on a date."

"Oh!" she squeals, as if this is news to her. "My sweet little poopykins is going on a date! Who are you going with? Is it someone Mommy knows? Do I get to take pictures?"

"No!" I assert. I don't want to be too forceful, though. "Maybe some other time. And I don't want you to meet them now. Maybe later."

My mom looks hopeful. "All right, sweetie. I'll give you the keys on Saturday. How does that sound?"

"That sounds great, mom," I reply, beginning to head out the room. But I stop and turn back first. "Oh yeah, and mom?"

"Yes, sweetie?" I think she was expecting a thank you of some sort, but I don't give her one.

"Hurry up with the fucking dinner! I'm starving!"

I stomp out of the kitchen and into my room, looking like my usual pissed off self, but inside I was exploding with excitement. Though there were a few glitches, my plan was actually working.

Now to just tell Kyle about it and hope he agrees.

I'm sitting in my room later that night, doing some homework, when my phone starts to ring.

I quickly answer it, expecting it to be Stan, who usually calls me around this time at night, unless we're already hanging out together. "Hey, dude," I answer.

"This isn't Stan, butthole."

Well, obviously not.

"Cartman? What's going on? You never call me."

This much was true. In the past, he would call every now and then just to harass me (he would call me from the "future", stupid shit like that), but he doesn't even do that anymore. Even with all the time we've been spending together lately. Neither of us deems it necessary.

"Yeah, well…I wanted to talk to you about something."

I think I know what he's going to say, but I don't know if I really want him to say it. "What is it?" I slowly ask, hoping to slightly push back the inevitable.

"I figured it out," he simply replies, knowing that he doesn't need to make himself clearer. I know exactly what he's talking about. He's probably grinning on the other side of the phone.

"How'd you figure it out?" I didn't know he was gonna come with this so quickly, or even at all.

"I'm borrowing my mom's car on Saturday. We can go out of town so no assholes here will see us."

I can only wonder what kind of shit Cartman pulled to get his mom to let him borrow her car. He doesn't even have his driver's license!

"Are you sure you know how to drive?"

He gives an annoyed sigh into the phone. "Dammit, Kyle, you sound like my mom. Of course I know how to drive!" He pauses, probably wondering if I'm convinced, which I'm not entirely. "Listen, Kyle, if something were to happen…if I got pulled over and had to talk to a cop, I'd make sure you didn't get in trouble for anything. And if anyone at school found out you were with me, you could just tell them I kidnapped you, or some other stupid shit."

I give a kind of half-chuckle, knowing that Cartman's lying out of his ass. If he got in trouble for driving without a license, I know for damn sure he'd find a way to get all the blame placed on me. Sure, Cartman's changed in the past month, but he hasn't changedthat much. And he never will.

"Come on, Kyle, don't be such a pussy. It's okay to do something you're not supposed to be doing every once in a while…"

I stop and think about this, his words resonating in my mind. Maybe he's right. After all, our whole relationship right now is based on doing something we shouldn't really be doing, and it's been a lot of fun, I have to say.

But this is a lot different from what we've been doing. Going on a date would be kind of a big step…a weird step into a direction I'm not entirely sure I want to go.

The idea doesn't exactly repulse me…but it doesn't thrill me either. To be honest, I just haven't thought about it much. I need more time.

…but I don't have any. Cartman's asking me now.

So I take a deep breath and give him my answer.