A/N: in working out my frustration at saving over an entire chapter for one of my stories I got a stupid idea. Here is the result.

Garrus was sitting in the mess hall trying to choke down Mess Sergeant Gardner's latest attempt at Turian cooking. He gave the man credit for trying, but he was if anything getting worse at it. The mass sitting on the plate in front of him was barely edible, and Garrus was about to give up and grab one of the bland ration bars just to knock the taste out of his mouth. Gardner was whistling something that he presumed had a tune, the Turian still hadn't acquired much of an ear for Human music, and bustling about in the kitchen area. The clank of pots and the slamming of cabinet doors punctuated his whistling for a good ten minutes before the man suddenly snapped his fingers and started to furiously rummage through the food storage for something. Garrus looked over to see Gardner's hind end sticking out of a lower cabinet and heard a muffled "Aha!" The cook pulled back out of the tight space and set something on the counter in front of him, making a crinkling noise as he opened the package before sliding something onto a serving dish.

Now intrigued, Garrus watched as he stepped out from behind the island with the dish in his hands and walked to the table. Gardner bent down and deposited the plate in the center of the table and laid a knife next to it. "Happy Holidays Everybody!" The crewman sitting nearby, Hawthorne if Garrus remembered correctly, looked over at what was on the dish and groaned loudly. "I thought Shepard got you real ingredients to work with Gardner! What is this shit?"

The cook looked wounded by this comment. "Its a tradition is what it is, if you don't want to share in it then don't have any."

Shepard chose that moment to round the corner from the elevator. "What's a tradi... Get. That. Thing. Off. My. Ship."

Garrus was surprised, he knew Shepard had superstitions about strange things, but this was new to him. He tried to find out what was bothering his friend. "Come on Shepard, it can't be that bad. What is it anyways?"

Shepard whipped around to look him square in the eye. "That thing is an abomination and should have never been allowed on board. No self respecting person would ever eat it, let alone serve it in any seriousness, so I have to assume Gardner decided to do so as a joke of some sort."

Now he was even more confused, but he could see that Shepard needed something to break the mood. "So, want to bet on it?"

"Bet on what?"

"That nobody will eat it. Obviously Tali and I are out because of the whole dextro thing, but I am sure someone on this ship will eat it."

Shepard mused on this for a second, then replied "Five Hundred Credits"

At the mentions of such money, the various crew members in the area started clamoring to get in on the action. The pool was up to somewhere in the range of thirty five thousand credits by the time Garrus got free of the crowd to search out the one person who would eat anything without batting an eye.

Grunt was in his cargo hold as usual, and responded quickly when Garrus mentioned food. He became more excited when Garrus mentioned there was a bet about whether he would eat it or not. Garrus grinned inwardly, the Krogan would eat week old Vorcha if someone gave it to him, this would be easy money.

By the time they got to the mess hall, everyone not on duty had already gathered in a ring around the table. During the wait it seemed that Shepard had cut a slice off and set it on a separate plate. When Grunt walked up to the table, a round of groans was heard from several who had placed their bets early. Shepard stepped up to explain the rules of the bet.

"The bet is that no one on this ship will eat what is sitting on that plate. The rule is that you must use a fork to consume the entire piece without gagging or throwing up. If you can handle the first piece, you are welcome to the rest of what is on the table. Go."

Grunt eyed the plate before him suspiciously, it was not like his Battlemaster to present a challenge like this, and he wondered what was wrong with the food on it. He grabbed the puny human utensil and carefully used it to separate a smaller piece off, knowing he had an audience and he wanted to put on a good showing for his teacher. He sniffed at it, trying to determine if it was poisoned. After a bit, he carefully placed it in his mouth and pulled the fork out. As he went to swallow, something inside him reacted violently and he spit the chunk out before running to the sink and ducking under the faucet to clear the taste from his mouth.

Blubbering out from under the stream of water he could barely be understood "Battlemaster, throw me unarmed and naked into a Thresher Maw nest but do not ask me to eat that ever again."

Shepard just laughed at this.

"See Garrus, I told you. Nobody is willing to eat Dollar Store Fruitcake."