A/N: Hello lovelies. Huge thanks for all the reviews since last time.

Since it's thanksgiving next Thursday, which also happens to be my birthday, I decided to write a small thanksgiving story, the others are not thanksgiving related at all. Stories two and three are kind of related despite their differences, if that makes any sense at all.

This chapter will probably be the last one for the year of 2012. I might post a chapter before December 1st, but there is a chance I won't be able to do so. The reason is that I am a full time University student, and I have exams until December 18th, so I have very little time to write.

However, I have something fun to share with you. I decided to write a special Christmas special of Tiny Snippets, which will be called Tiny Snippets in Time-Christmas Edition. I will be posting a chapter every day from December 19th until Christmas. At first I was going to post a chapter here for Christmas like I did for Halloween, but then I started to get loads of ideas and thought it would be fun to post a separate story. I'm ridiculously excited for it since Christmas is my favorite time of the year. I hope you like the idea as much as I do, and peek in on December 19th.

Thank you for reading.

XXVII

Lessons Learned

House stood in front of the mirror, shirtless, and ran a hand through his scruffy beard.

He laid the items on the sink like surgery equipment's, all organized and planned for the daunting task ahead. He picked up the tin can and squirted some of the substance into his palm, then placed the white foamy texture of the cream on his skin.

"What do you think you're doing?" Cuddy asked from the doorway.

"What does it look like? I'm shaving." He continued to rub the shaving cream into his skin, and observed Cuddy in the reflection of the mirror. For some reason she didn't seem all too happy. He picked up the razor off the sink and placed it on his chin.

"You never shave." He looked at Cuddy's bewildered expression.

"You keep complaining that I'm disheveled, smelly, and that my beard scratches your oh so sensitive skin, so I decided to shave the beard." He said simply, and ran the razor through the spiky ends.

"And they say I never do anything for you." He turned to her and cooed.

Cuddy pouted and folded her arms over her chest. He kept observing her expression amusedly.

"I never said that I don't like the beard. In fact…I kind of like it." Her confession was apparently hard for her since she had just complained about his scratchy beard the day before.

He stopped what he was doing and turned to look at her.

"Why didn't you say that before?"

"Because I never thought you would actually do it."

"So you complain just for the heck of it?" He asked her demonstrating the absurdity of her words. She looked at the tiled floor sheepishly.

"No."

House shook his head in bewilderment, and finished his shave. He dried off the remains of the shaving cream and looked at his polished face.

"What do you think?" He faced Cuddy who looked at him oddly.

"Different." She finally settled.

"You hate it."

"No, it's just…I like you all…. rough." Much to his amusement, her cheeks flushed crimson.

House smirked and grabbed her hands, pulling her towards him. He kissed her on the cheek, and rubbed his cheek against hers, causing her to giggle.

"Will you stop complaining then?"

"Yes, yes, are you happy?" She knew just as well as he did that he was making a fair point. It did not go unnoticed by either of them that from now on she would never complain about his beard ever again.

XXVIII

Decisions Part One

"What do you want for dinner?"
Cuddy slumped into the sofa beside House who didn't take his eyes off the TV.

"Don't care."

"I don't feel like cooking. Takeout?"

"Sure."

Cuddy glanced sideways at him, and put her feet over his.

"Chinese?" She suggested. She could see House's face wrinkle.

"Not in the mood. How about chicken?"

"Ugh, I'm sick of it."

"We haven't had chicken for a month." He complained.

"I just don't feel like it. Mexican?"

"You know I don't like Mexican." He flipped channels.

"Fine, why don't you suggest something?"

"Burger?" Cuddy made a face.

"Really? Burger? It's all sweaty, and disgusting."

"Then what do you want?" He glanced at her irritatingly.

"I don't know. I think I'm up for something light. Salad or something."

House looked at her in horror.

"Salad? Salad? That's not food."

"House, even though you seem to be incapable of ingesting a healthy meal, can you at least do it once?"

"No." He said stubbornly.

Cuddy sighed, and propped herself in a sitting position.

"So, you just want burgers, pizza, or something that will guarantee cardiac arrest?"

"Pretty much sums it up."

"But it's so gross."

"Fine. What about Indian?" He settled.

Cuddy didn't answer but her expression said it all. House slammed his hand in the cushion.

"Then what do you want? You don't want chicken, pizza, burger, or anything that has over 500 calories. What will it be next?"

"I wanted Chinese, and you complained." She reminded him.

"Fine, then Chinese it is." He cried out angrily, and picked up the phone.

"What do you want?"

Cuddy bit her lip and thought it over.

"I don't know, I'm kind of up for noodles."

House started to dial but Cuddy stopped him.

"Wait, wait. I changed my mind. I want the cashew chicken."

House glanced at her incredulously, raising his hands up in exasperation.

"What?"

"You just told me you were sick of chicken, and now you want one?"

"It's not the same."

"Yes it is."

"No it isn't. You want the deep fried, sweaty one, which is totally different from the cashew one. You should get your facts straight mister."

House rolled his eyes, and dialed. After he had ordered he threw his phone on the table. They sat in complete silence, neither of them having anything to say.

"Why can't we agree on anything?" Cuddy suddenly piped up. The tone of her voice was a mixture of sadness and exhaustion.

"I don't know."

XXIX

Decisions Part Two

"How long have we been together?"

House looked up from the book he was reading. Cuddy stood in front of him, rubbing a hand lotion on her skin. House frowned, and took off his reading glasses.

"Five years, eight months, three weeks, and five days."

Cuddy smiled, walked over to him and pecked him on the cheek.

"Are you ok?" He asked her suspiciously.

Cuddy bit her lip, and sat down on the carpet by the chair he was sitting on.

"Please don't freak out, ok?"

"You can't say that and not expect me to freak out."

She smiled at him. It struck him how she looked at him, a bit nervous yet excited at the same time. Then it dawned on him. He sat up straight in the chair, and tore his glasses off.

"Are you pregnant?"

"No." She said reassuringly.

"Then what is it?" He was starting to get worried.

She inhaled, and grabbed his hand in hers, stroking her thumb over his skin. She looked into his eyes.

"I love you."

"Yes."

"And you love me."

"There's no question about that."

She looked down, and seemed to be mulling something over, then subtly he saw her shake her head. Curiously he watched her stand up and turn away from him. Something inside him clicked.

"Cuddy." He called after her.

She stopped in her tracks and looked at him a bit sheepishly.

"What?"

He stood up and walked over to her, taking both of her hands in his.

"Tell me."

"It was nothing." She told him fleetingly.

"You're lying."

She shook her head feebly, her refusal half hearted. He squeezed her hands reassuringly, and whispered in her ear.

"Marry me."

He could almost hear her breath catch in her throat, and felt her pulse quicken.

"Isn't that what you were going to ask?"

He moved his head from the base of her neck and looked her in the eyes. Tears pooled in the grey orbs, and he could swear that he felt a lump in his throat. He swallowed it, and looked at her expectantly.

"Well?"

"Are you sure?"

Out of any reaction from her part, he had not expected that.

"Are you asking me whether I'm sure? I should rather be asking you that question, not the other way around."

She laughed through her tears, and dried them off with the back of her hand.

"You hate marriage."

"Hate is a strong word. I have to admit that I never cared about it. Marriage doesn't change anything, but after we started dating I kind of changed my mind. Plus I want everyone to know that your ass is mine." He squeezed her butt for emphasis. She yelped.

"You're sure?"

"Yes Cuddy, I'm sure."

She propped up on her toes and brought her lips to his, sealing their agreement in a kiss. Once they released each other Cuddy whispered in disbelief.

"Did we just agree on something?"

"Yes we did."

"Without fighting."

"I guess we can only agree on important things."

"That's fine by me."

XXX

Something to be Thankful For

"Sorry Cuddy, I can't come to Thanksgiving dinner."

"Why not?" Cuddy's exasperated tone burst through the phone.

"Patient."

"Ok." Came the disappointed answer.

"Bye."

"Bye."

House grimaced after he turned off the phone. He was kind of relieved that he had to skip the dreadful Thanksgiving dinner with Cuddy's family for a dying patient. He did feel bad, but Cuddy's family wasn't exactly the most preferable company. They were truly a living nightmare, and he was relieved to skip that charade this year.

The door to his office opened, his team strolled in one by one, and closed the door behind them.

"The patient's stable."

"Good."

"You can go home to Cuddy. You probably have some Thanksgiving gathering to attend to." Masters piped up. House glared at her and shook his head.

"Nope."

"No? But…"

"Was there something else?" He interrupted curtly.

"No." Masters squeaked.

"Then you can go home. I'll page you if there's a change."

They left the office reluctantly, leaving him alone.

House spent the next hour doing practically nothing. He glanced at his clock, and sighed heavily. He could easily go home to Cuddy, and get that awkward dinner over with, or he could spend Thanksgiving alone, like he was used to.

He finally decided to do something he rarely did. He went to visit a patient.

The hallways were empty as he strode to the patient's room. He opened the door and slid through them. The patient lay sound asleep amongst beeping monitors.

He picked up his file and looked through it. Patient's name was John Travis, twenty-seven years old, heroin addict. He had suffered from seizures, obviously a cause of overdose, but his family wouldn't hear any of it. His father, Roger Travis, was a cardiologist at PPTH, and had insisted that he get the best medical help. Of course he had turned to House.

The sad truth was that he had a multiple organ failure, and would die within the next 24 hours. There was no medical mystery, no puzzle to solve. He was a dead man.

House put the file back to its place, and turned around to leave.

"Wait." A raspy voice said behind him. He turned around and saw John attempt to rise in a sitting position.

"You're Dr. House, aren't you?"

"Yes." He nodded his head in acknowledgement.

"Don't go. Please."

House hesitated; he wasn't used to sit with patients, holding their hands while they poured their hearts out. But there was something desperate in his voice, something he could easily recognize.

Reluctantly he dragged one of the guest chairs to his bedside and sat down. John looked at him through half closed eyes, his narrow face was ashen, his body shaking.

"Don't you have a family to go to doc?"

House looked down, and replied curtly.

"No."

"That's too bad." He seemed genuine, understanding loneliness all too well.

"I know how you feel. My family is gathering at my grandparents, celebrating Thanksgiving. While I'm stuck with a cold hospital food."

He laughed mirthlessly, the bitter reality too painful to deal with.

"You know, they told me they would be here by six, that they would be here with me for Thanksgiving, but they obviously aren't here yet." He was fighting back tears.

"I probably deserve it. I haven't exactly been the son of the year. You know, sometimes I wonder whether they care at all. Maybe they just want me dead."

House didn't know what to say to that, so he merely settled on.

"Life sucks."

"Yeah it does." He sniffled lamely.

"Do you know how it feels?" He looked at him directly. "Do you know how it feels to be completely alone?"

"Yes." He said lowly.

"You have a girlfriend? Wife? Anyone?"

"I do."

"You're lucky." He said distantly. "My girlfriend dumped me after I stole her money for drugs. I don't blame her."

He lowered his head on his pillow and looked at the ceiling.

"Will you promise me something?"

House didn't say anything; his silence confirmed that he was listening.

"Promise me that you'll value what you have. I haven't, and now it's too late."

House had heard such speeches countless of times, but for the first time they rang true. John wasn't too different from him. He could be the one in the room, the one that had lost everything to drugs. How many times had he overdosed, and lived on the brink, not giving a damn whether he lived or died. He was alone, no one really cared at all, but he wasn't alone.

"Take good care of your life Dr. House. You only have one chance."

He heard distinctive footsteps coming from the hall. He stood up and spotted the group of people approaching. He started to walk away, but hesitated slightly. He turned to the dying man, and murmured.

"I'm sorry." He murmured.

"We're always sorry in the end. That's how life is."

House slid through the doors and headed down the hall. Instead of going back to his office he stopped by the elevators and pressed the down button.

Ten minutes later House sat in the car and watched the gathering through the living room window of Cuddy's house. Cuddy's family sat by the long table, which was filled with all kinds of delicacies.

He spotted Cuddy at the end of the table, she was laughing at something someone said. Her head jerked back, her eyes creased as she laughed openly. He could almost hear the sound in his mind. Surely he didn't belong there. After spending years celebrating Thanksgiving alone, he didn't know how to react. He didn't know how to be in a relationship, how to be a doting boyfriend who cared about such things. But he wasn't alone, he had someone, he didn't have to be alone anymore. He really wanted to make things work, and he definitely didn't want to lose what he had with Cuddy.

House opened the door to his car, and limped to Cuddy's house. The cold November air bit his cheeks, and he hurried to the front door. He hesitated slightly before he knocked on the door. He heard the noise lessen a bit and soft footsteps approach the door.

The door opened and Cuddy looked at him evidentially surprised to see him.

"House." She breathed, obviously surprised by his presence.

"Hi."

He could see the confusion in her eyes, the anger barely palpable, but obvious in the way her mouth twitched slightly, and her forehead creased. Then, much to his surprise, she opened the door wider and smiled slightly.

"I'm glad you came."

He stepped into the foyer, and closed the door behind him.

"Sorry I'm late." He kissed her chastely on the lips.

"It's ok." She muttered softly. He scratched his head awkwardly trying to find something to say, maybe an apology for being such a jerk, but Cuddy beat him to it.

"Thank you for coming. It really means a lot to me. I know how much you hate these things."

"No problem." He murmured.

A mutual understanding passed between them, and together they walked into the living room. He grasped her hand and woved to be thankful for having her for the rest of his life. Despite all their differences, and their disagreements, she made him a better person, and that was worth being thankful for.