Chapter Text
"Today is going by way too slowly," Cameron commented with a heavy sigh as she collapsed into her seat. The flimsy cafeteria chair squeaked as it adjusted to her weight. Foreman and Chase both sat down after her with similar lacks of grace.
"Don't say that," Foreman snapped. "Next thing you know we're going to get five cases all at once."
Chase felt his heartrate spike. He stared down at the chicken salad he'd purchased and opened it up.
"Please stop talking about it," Chase pleaded with a forced smile. Cameron rolled her eyes with a genuine grin and took a bite of her pasta. She relaxed further into her chair with a delighted sigh. Chase and Foreman laughed at her response. Unphased, she took another large bite.
Automatically, Chase stuck his fork into his salad and started digging around. He wasn't sure what he was looking for, but he inspected it carefully. He searched under folds of lettuce and rolled the pieces of chicken over to check for any signs of pink. When no alarm bells went off in his mind, he set his fork down and picked up the dressing packet tucked in the side of the container. His gaze narrowed as it came into the light. For a caesar dressing, it seemed a little too yellow.
"Does this look weird to you?" Chase asked the table, holding up the dressing packet. Cameron was occupied with chewing. She briefly glanced up toward what Chase was holding, instantly shrugging and turning back to her food. Foreman didn't even look up.
"It's fine," Cameron assured. "It's pre-packaged salad. It's gonna look a little weird."
Chase swallowed thickly. He couldn't take his eyes off the dressing. He felt it through the packet in his hands. Nausea slowly started building in his gut as the off-white substance moved with his massaging motions.
Morbidly curious and unable to stop himself, Chase carefully tore open the dressing. Despite his care, a small amount of the viscous liquid escaped through the tear and landed on his thumb.
He brought his thumb to his nose. It smelled like caesar dressing, but was something wrong with it? Maybe it smelled a little sour.
Chase turned over the dressing in search of an expiration date. In lieu of one, he found a best before date for two days later.
That was too soon. The packet felt heavy in his hand. The sight of the dressing on his thumb made his nausea worsen.
"Cameron?" Chase asked, voice somewhat strained. He saw her look up though his focus remained on the dressing he had already halfway decided he wouldn't be eating.
"Yeah?" Cameron chirped, somewhat surprised. Chase held out the dressing toward her.
"Does this smell weird?" Chase asked. He didn't consider being embarrassed. Logically he knew the dressing was fine to eat. Sure, it was a bit discoloured, but that could be for any reason. Salad dressings looked weird. The date on the packaging made him unsettled, but he'd seen House eat food from his desk that had been there when he'd first been hired. A best before date wasn't a death sentence, especially one that hadn't yet been reached. It smelled a bit off, but dressings weren't made for people to shove their noses into and analyse by scent. A perfectly good dressing would smell off if Chase was already convinced it was bad. Still, some reassurance that his brain was making things up would be greatly appreciated. Though he felt nauseous, he was still hungry and wanted reassurance that his food wouldn't poison him before he partook.
Cameron rolled her eyes and Foreman scoffed beside her. Cameron finished chewing her bite of food before she began speaking, hand covering her mouth in courtesy.
"It's fine, Chase," Cameron assured. Chase withdrew his hand. He felt like he'd been punched in the gut. The nausea was starting to overtake the hunger he still clung onto.
"Just shut up and eat," Foreman instructed, tone light.
"I know," Chase agreed with a forced laugh. "I'm just curious."
"I'm not smelling that," Foreman declared with a lazy gesture toward the dressing.
"Why'd you smell it in the first place? Is it expired?" Cameron asked. She seemed more serious. Her smile faltered and her full focus was on Chase instead of outright dismissing him. It gave him hope. He felt inclined to continue under the impression that she was committed to helping him.
"The date says it expires in two days," Chase informed. He flipped the package over to confirm but before he could, Foreman took it out of his hand.
"It's a best before date," Foreman revealed, dropping the packet onto the lid of Chase's salad unceremoniously. Chase stared down at his food, shame swirling in his gut along with nausea.
"You're fine, Chase. Be happy you got one that isn't years old. I swear I've bought stuff from the nineties here," Cameron joked.
"Don't say that," Chase pleaded. He rested his elbow on the table and his forehead on his hand. He heard his coworkers share a light laugh. All he could think about was eating a chicken salad from the nineties. What if he'd read the date wrong? What if the wrong date had been printed on the packaging? How did they figure out those dates anyway? They could be incorrect even if the manufacturer had the best of intentions.
"What do you think is going to happen anyway?" Foreman asked.
"Just stop talking," Chase said venomously. His meal was beginning to look less appetising by the second. The lettuce seemed too fluorescent in some areas and browned in others. The chicken took on a grey-pink hue, undercooked and rotten. He could smell the parmesan cheese generously sprinkled atop the whole salad from a distance. He couldn't tell what it smelled like, but the specifics didn't matter. He'd be averse either way. He couldn't bring himself to look at the dressing. An image of it, bright yellow with dark, black specks throughout formed in his mind. Based in reality or not, it changed how he perceived his food. He could still feel the sticky residue he'd spilled on his thumb. It had started to warm from his body heat.
He wasn't hungry anymore.