The more time they spent trying food, it seemed the less Mal enjoyed his food decisions - which made the Great Cotton Candy Heist all the more important. He felt bad about the vampire's distaste of carnival food, but it was all very fascinating and hilarious to watch that Quinn just kept laughing at his reactions, throwing in snide comments in between complacent, nostalgic bites.
Once or twice he had place his hands on the vampire, holding his arm or gripping his shoulder in lighthearted ways that at one time hadn't meant much between them. He could feel that quiet understanding and welcomeness of the contact between them and his own blushing ceased to catch him by surprise. There grew a comfort Quinn had forgotten could exist between two people and he tried not to crave it but let it be. No need to get crazy, now. It was only their first official date. Still, the recognition that this was so close to him the entire time he had been with Jerry was maddening.
Why had he not pursued Mal sooner?
Quinn laughed as he took the dish of soggy fried pickles back from his date and popping one in his mouth. "Sucks," he retorted savagely with a chortle. He had always loved pickles - he was told once that it was probably because Heather ate so many while she was pregnant with him - and had faced much disgust (and the gift of abandoned side-pickles on social dates when deli sandwiches were ordered) from many friends for his enjoyment. He was genuinely impressed that Mal had even attempted the pickles and had been tempted to give him a round of applause - before he saw him spit it out.
"I'd just like to remind you that you signed up for this food adventure," he chuckled, tossing the last two pickles into his mouth and the empty basket in a nearby bin. The half-eaten bag of popcorn was tucked beneath his arm and Quinn looked around for the coup de grace of his master plan. He eyed the cotton candy/ candy apple truck on the very edge of the food aisle towards the kids rides of spinning dragons and a rickety-looking train ride that came a stunning five feet off the ground. On the left were stalls for the bathroom. Quinn smirked.
"Okay," he said as casually as he could, though his excitement at getting away with something was climbing. "I have to use the bathroom. Hold the popcorn?" He gave Mal a sweet, innocent smile. The vampire obliged with a nod and smirk and seemed to make no move to follow the human. Good. He might actually get away with this one.
As Quinn strolled away at an even pace, he waited until he was a fair distance from his date to turn around and see whether he was being watched - or if he could even see Mal. When he saw that the vampire had taken out his phone and seemed to be putting a good amount of attention there, he circled back to the food truck, choosing the long way around the opposite side of the train ride to come up on the truck. When he secured the food items, he would be coming at Mal from the opposite direction he had left.
He had no idea how intense Malakai's hearing was, knowing only that vampires could hear a stupid amount of noise clearly and that that got better as they aged. It was therefore safe to assume that he had stronger hearing than many of the other vampires Quinn knew - Jerry, Zach, a few of Tommy's boyfriends... To be careful to not cue the vampire into what he was actually doing, Quinn approached the cart quietly, standing one deep in line in front and throwing eyes in Mal's direction to ensure his stealth.
Operation Cotton Candy Grab was in full effect.
He approached the counter after the soccer mom had ordered fries and were told they're be a minute, his money in his hand in case his date saw him and realized what was happening. Quinn placed the order for the biggest bag of cotton candy and one candy-coated apple - thick layers of chocolate, caramel, and pretzel bits with drizzled white chocolate on top - and only had to wait for about thirty seconds before the teenage girl with boredom written all over her face handed over the goods. Once his money was free from his grasp, Quinn felt a tangible bit of relief and excitement. He had achieved his goals and could officially relax for the rest of the night. He thanked the girl (who responded with the fakest "you're welcome" that he had come to know from retail workers everywhere) and approached his date with a triumphant look on his face.
Mal was standing there, absorbed in his phone with the bag of popcorn tucked under his arm and the doughboy cooling on its grease-stained paper plate in his other hand. If he were a human, he probably would have scolded Mal for letting the treat get cold and not eating it right away. Instead it made him feel even more victorious as he approached, holding out the bag of Cotton Gold to the vampire.
"Here," he said announcing himself, "this might help." He smiled slyly at him, taking the plate of sugar-crusted fried dough back from the vampire.
