A/N: So...it's been almost five years since I last updated this story. My bad. I never thought I'd finish it, but hey, who says you can't dust off an eight-year-old story and finally give it an ending? Expect more updates soon!

It takes me a few minutes after waking up to realize everything that happened yesterday. I can't help but shake my head. I actually went out with Cartman!

I haven't had time to think about whether I'd want to do it again or not. I mean, it could be interesting. Yesterday sure was. And now we both know to just act normal around each other. But then again, how normal can we be if we're on a fucking date?

Furthermore, when was our relationship ever normal?

The sound of the doorbell ringing downstairs interrupts my thoughts. After a minute, I hear footsteps approaching my room, and eventually someone knocks on my door.

"Come in," I say, and the door opens.

It's Stan. Oh shit, I was sorta supposed to hang out with him yesterday. It's kind of an unspoken agreement we have to hang out on Saturdays. I don't think I told him I was going to be busy all day. Shit.

He eyes me curiously as he steps into the room. He doesn't look angry exactly…I can't really place his expression. I try to act nonchalant in the unrealistic hope that he won't want to know where the hell I was yesterday.

"Hey dude."

"Hey dude," he replies, his expression unwavering, but he sounds casual. "I tried to stop by yesterday to hang out. Your mom said you were on a field trip."

He doesn't sound accusatory, but immediately my heart rate starts to quicken. My eyes go wide for a split second before I realize I can't give myself away by acting surprised. "Oh, yeah. We went to some museum for history class. It was kinda lame."

He nods his head as if he believes me, but his eyes say otherwise, narrowing a bit. "Oh, okay," is all he says.

I feel like he can see right through me; nonetheless I continue with my story. If I'm going down, I'm taking it to the bitter end. "Yeah, sorry I forgot to tell you about it. I know we were supposed to hang out yesterday. I guess I didn't realize it was happening until the last minute."

That last sentence had some truth to it, at the very least. I had no idea I would ever go on a date with Cartman, and even while it was occurring, and even right now, it still doesn't feel like it actually happened. Does what happened yesterday even count as a date? I'm not sure it does.

Stan's eyes narrow a bit further, but he doesn't say anything. There's an awkward pause between us until I hear his voice pick up again. "It's just…" he starts.

I stare at him blankly, trying desperately (but hopefully somewhat suavely) to hide the fact that inwardly I'm a fucking nervous wreck. I merely raise my eyebrows, signifying for him to go on, even though I'd really prefer he didn't.

"…I haven't been on a field trip since middle school. I didn't realize they still had them in our grade. It just seemed weird to me, I guess."

Shit.

"Yeah, I thought that was kinda weird too," I pause momentarily, gathering my thoughts, "but then again, that's definitely not the weirdest thing I've experienced in this town."

I can see a flood of memories involving some of the most fucked up misadventures we've gone through over the years run through his head. He smiles a bit at the nostalgia, then quickly rolls his eyes at how retarded it all was. The questioning glance in his eyes washes away in an instant, forgotten.

"You got that right."

For the first time since Stan walked into my room, I can relax. I'm happy to have placated him for now (I really don't know how many more questions my nerves could've handled at the moment, and he didn't even ask me about Cartman at all), but I have a feeling that this isn't over. Stan knows something's up, but thankfully he doesn't seem to know what it is.

I can handle that for now. I intend to keep it that way, or better yet, convince him that there's really nothing going on so he'll stop getting suspicious. I just need some time to get better at this lying-to-your-super-best-friend thing. I know I'm probably going to have to start doing it more often the longer Cartman and I are still…well, whatever you would call what we're doing. I have no idea.

It's not going to be easy lying to Stan on a regular basis, but like I said before, if I'm going down, I'm taking it to the bitter fucking end.

Stan can't know about this.

It's been a few weeks since Cartman and I first went out together. I wasn't sure about giving it a second try, but somehow Cartman convinced me, and we went out again the other week…and again today. Once we stopped worrying about how we're supposed to act and just acted like ourselves (fights and all; we've been kicked out of a couple of places), it wasn't so bad. We've mostly been doing the same type of shit we would if we were hanging with Stan and Kenny (today, for example, we spent most of our time at the arcade)—but somehow it just feels different when it's the two of us. Not quite like a date, per se, but I don't know….

It's Sunday evening (I suggested we change the day to keep Stan off our trail), and I'm riding in the car with Cartman on our way back from North Park. The sun's already set. We're approaching my house. Cartman stops the car a few houses down and slowly turns his head toward me.

"So, uh…I guess I'll see you later." He looks nervous for some reason. "…Jew," he tacks on for good measure.

I glance at him with half-lidded eyes. I have to admit, seeing him like this is pretty amusing, though I'm not entirely sure what's going on with him right now. He wasn't acting like this earlier. "Later, fatass."

I see him smile a bit. He quickly hides it under a scowl, but his eyes betray him. Normally it would have set him off when I call him that, but not this time. He's probably realized, just like I have, that our insults just don't have the same bite anymore. If anything, they're the closest things we have to…terms of endearment, I guess?

I scoff inwardly at the ridiculous thought and get ready to open the car door. I turn to look at Cartman one more time, and he looks like he's contemplating something. He's also really fidgety. I notice him playing with some of the knobs on the car's stereo, which isn't even on.

"What the fuck's up with you, Cartman?"

He stops. "What do you mean, Jew?" He then crosses his arms, his tone feigning mild disinterest.

"Well, you were normal the whole day, but in the last ten minutes it seems like you've come down with a case of Parkinson's or something. You all right?"

I lean closer to him, and that seems to get to him. He looks nervous again, though this time he's frozen in place.

"Uh…it's nothing. I was just thinking about…uh, since it's the end of the night and all…if we should…"

"What? Do you want a goodnight kiss?" I ask half-jokingly. I chuckle and see that he looks pretty serious, which makes me laugh even harder.

"Fuck you, asswipe!"

I wipe away a tear that comes from my laughing fit. "Heh, sorry. It's just…why are you so goddamn nervous? It's not like we haven't kissed before."

Something about saying it out loud like that makes my face instantly heat up, but I keep looking at him, waiting for an answer.

"I know that, dumbass. But it's never been at the end of a…you know."

He doesn't finish his sentence, but I get what he means. Even after all the time we've been spending together lately, this whole situation is still strange for both of us. Even though we've been out a few times now, we've never kissed or anything like that at all—doing it outside our 'tutoring' sessions would add a whole new level of weird to everything. It would make our "dates" actual…dates.

There's no way I'm used to any of this, but either way, it's going to take a while to get used to. This whole situation is so fucking bizarre. I feel like I'm never really ready for anything we end up doing, but I don't think I ever would be anyway. I'm still so surprised this is happening.

But that's part of what makes it so exciting.

"Maybe we should try it," I find myself blurting out.

"You sure?" he questions slowly, making damn sure I'm serious before he does anything.

Well, no going back now. Also, getting to see a bashful Cartman is endlessly entertaining. I never thought I'd see the day when the thought of kissing me made his this nervous. He's totally at my mercy, and I can't get enough of it. I nod, and we lean into each other.

The kiss was short and surprisingly soft, something I didn't really expect from Cartman. Usually there's a lot more passion and intensity involved (mainly stemming from the fights we inevitably have beforehand). But this…was different.

It felt like the type of kiss you'd get at the end of a date. A real date.

The implications of all this are too much for me right now. I clumsily jerk the door handle and nearly stumble out of the car. I pick myself up and stand beside the car. Now I'm the nervous one.

I glance at Cartman, and he looks just as freaked out as I am. Our eyes meet for a final awkward moment before we both look away sheepishly.

We both mumble a quick "bye" to each other before I slam the car door shut and practically sprint back to my house.

What the fuck was that?

Cartman and I avoid each other for the entire school day the next day. Stan asks me what's going on about halfway through the day, but I chalk it up to Cartman to being his usual asshole self and me not wanting to have to fucking deal with it today.

But for the first time ever, that isn't true at all. In fact, the opposite's going on—I'm avoiding Cartman because I don't want to deal with him not being his usual asshole self. Things are getting weird between us. I've been seeing sides of him I never knew existed. The more I see, the more I'm fascinated—and freaked the fuck out.

…Because I think a part of me might actually like it. More than I'd like to admit.

I don't want to talk about it right now, though.

Still, somehow I find myself at Cartman's doorstep after school. It is one of our tutoring days—I guess I came here out of habit. I consider getting out while I still can, but just as I take my first step away from the door, it opens.

"You ever thought of knocking, Jew?"

I feel myself tense up as I see Cartman standing casually at the door, doing a better job of composing himself than I am right now. "Oh hey…I just came for, uh…tutoring." For fuck's sake, what the hell is wrong with me? I see him start to smirk at his apparent power over me. Dick hole. I'm not about to let that continue.

I pause briefly and get myself together. "Well, aren't you gonna let me in, fatass?" I finish, the usual gleam-resembling something similar to hatred, but not quite that-returning to my eyes. With a smirk, I place my hand on his chest, running it across to rest on his shoulder as I push him aside to enter the house, and he yelps.

I win, motherfucker.

All that seems to set him off, because he storms past me and flops down on the couch angrily, crossing his arms. "What do you want, Jew? You've been ignoring me all day."

I sit down beside him. "You've been ignoring me too, dumbass. We were ignoring each other-that's kinda how that works."

"Yeah, whatever."

An awkward silence fills the air. I don't know what to talk about, so I might as well get to the point.

"Should we…talk about last night?"

He sighs angrily. "Dammit Kahl, you're such a fucking vagina sometimes. We don't need to talk about shit."

My eyes squint in annoyance. Apparently this is a waste of my time. Cartman seems pretty bent on keeping any sides of him away that don't make him look like the world's biggest asshole. Admittedly, I'm a little disappointed that he'd rather go back to acting like a dick to me than face the one weird moment we had last night, but whatever. "Fuck off, Cartman. I'm leaving."

I start to stand up, but Cartman stops me, his tone changing completely to one resembling concern. "Wait, Kahl, don't go."

"Why shouldn't I if you're just gonna be an asshole the whole time?"

"Fine, I won't be an asshole. I just don't want to talk about…you know."

"I don't really either," I admit, "but we probably should at some point. We might as well do it now."

"What if I can't?"

"Why can't you?" I ask, curious. He turns and stares at me with an almost pleading look.

"I just can't."

I can tell by that look that he's just as confused by all this as I am. How the hell did our relationship change from quasi-friends/worst enemies who were constantly trying to kill each other; to enemies who fought sometimes but also made out with each other three days a week after school; to pseudo-enemies only fighting for fun and to keep up appearances, who secretly enjoy each other's company, sometimes even in public on what ever you want to call those outings we have together are? And what happens next?

Fuck, I'm not sure I can think about that. I suddenly feel queasy.

"Maybe you're right, Cartman. We don't have to talk about this now if you don't want to." I finally say, my nerves intensifying. How the hell did I think I was ready to tackle all this head on? My brain can't process all of this.

I think Cartman notices my anxiety because his eyes start searching frantically around the room as if either to avoid looking at me or to find some sort of solution. Finally he stops, still avoiding eye contact before he crashes his lips to mine.

A warm sensation fills my chest, and I kinda get lost in the moment and give up on worrying about everything for the time being. I'll get to figuring this whole this out eventually, but nobody said it has to be right now, so why put pressure on us?

Time flies and the next thing I notice is the sound of Cartman's mom's car pulling into the driveway. Hopefully my mom won't be mad that I'm late for dinner.

I'm slowly realizing that what we're doing has some serious connotations. I didn't want to admit it, but I know it's true, and at some point, we're going to have to deal with that fact—and whatever repercussions come from it. I can feel it more and more each day. My plan now is to ignore it as long as I can until I know how to deal with it, but I'm not sure when that'll be.

I like this thing I have with Cartman. But do I have to know why I do? It's just too confusing.