FIC- General Hospital (Lulu/Cruz, 4/20?)
Title: Save Yourself
Rating: R-ish
Summary: Could you save yourself, for someone who could love you for you?
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Part I
Part II
Part III
“More biscotti, Detective?” Cruz looked up at the warm smile of Mrs. Santini. It was late at Carmen’s, and the café was almost cleared out. He was looking over photographs taken in Rick Webber’s attic. He’d been staring at them for the past week and his eyes were starting to cross and go blurry.
“No, Mrs. Santini, you’re going to make me fat,” Cruz grinned at the sweet old lady, and she laughed heartily.
“You could use a some of the meat on your bones, Detective,” she said, flirtatiously, her accent only serving to make her more coquettish, even at sixty-five. She placed two more cookies on his plate anyway and poured more coffee in his lukewarm cup, nearly empty. Hearing the merry laughter across the shop, they both looked up to see Lulu and Mr. Santini joking amiably as they cleared tables from the after-dinner crowd.
This was another thing that was becoming far too regular. The nights were getting warmer in late March, almost unseasonably warm, and he kept suggesting that they meet at Carmen’s instead of at his house. It was a nice walk from the station and also PCU, and also...Also, the closed off comfort and privacy of his own home, with his own bedroom only yards away.
Lulu’s eyes met his from across the room, and she smiled.
Dammit. She didn’t even have to try, and he could almost feel himself getting hard.
He tried to breathe easy as she walked over to his table, with a cappuccino in a cardboard take-away cup. “Lula, you take home some tip money tonight, you don’t work for free, no?” Mrs. Santini clucked over Lulu, smoothing her blond hair away from her eyes.
“No, Mrs. Santini, I hardly do anything,” Lulu never took the tip money the Santinis offered. Cruz knew she lived in the biggest mansion in town with the richest family, but it was still something he admired about her. She looked back at Cruz and grinned widely. “You ready to go?”
“Yeah, sure, just a second,” Cruz said, as he saw Mr. Santini struggling to take some boxes out of the back. Lulu watched him go help the old man, not even straining as he lifted the hefty parcels over his shoulder.
“Do you need help with anything else, Mrs. Santini?” Lulu asked, sipping her cappuccino. Damn, if nothing else, she would be forever grateful to Cruz for introducing her to Carmen’s cappuccino.
“No, Lula, you just relax and wait for your boyfriend,” Mrs. Santini said, smiling as she headed back into the kitchen, before Lulu could even correct her.
“Ready?” Cruz asked, coming back out to the table and pulling on his sportcoat
This was another part of their routine that was becoming far too regular. Sometimes they didn’t leave Carmen’s until after midnight. From that first day that she showed up at his front door at the crack of dawn, she would leave at all hours of the night- eleven-thirty, midnight, quarter to one.
"Don’t they wonder where you are?” he’d asked at first.
“The Quartermaines?” she’d laughed, almost a little too bitterly. “Oh, please. They hardly even realize that I’m there.”
How a girl like her didn’t have a soul in the world to look out for her, Cruz did not know. He knew she had her brothers, but they had families of their own to worry about. So, it seemed it was just him.
But no matter how she insisted, he didn’t let her go home alone, ever. At the very least, wen he dropped her off at the end of the Quartermaine’s massive driveway and saw her enter the house, he knew she wouldn’t be doing anything crazy, like try to go after a lead by herself.
Not that there were many leads to go on.
Cruz was starting to get a sinking feeling that this case was going nowhere. Lulu powered on, never losing her optimism or her absolute faith in her mother’s gut instinct that she was innocent. But Cruz was beginning to realize that they were chasing clues around in circles. Was Laura Spencer really a killer? Honestly, he didn’t think so. There were too many holes in the case. Just nothing with which to fill them in.
The day had been warm and Lulu didn’t have a jacket. So Cruz slung his sportcoat over her shoulders as they walked the few blocks to the station where his car was parked. Lulu held it close around her. Over the past few months, she had grown to really love the way he smelled. And she knew he didn’t wear any cologne; it was just a clean scent, masculine, and 100% Cruz Rodriguez.
They were cutting through the park when a noise in the bushes startled him, and before Lulu knew it, he had his gun drawn on a...very confused-looking fat squirrel.
“Got a little bit of a hair trigger there, don’t you, Detective?” Lulu asked, eyebrows raised.
“Sorry,” he said, relaxing his hold on his weapon. “Cop’s instinct, I guess.” The truth was he’d had a suspicious feeling for weeks that he was being watched. Nothing out of the ordinary had happened, just a creepy feeling on the back of his neck. He moved to re-holster his gun, but Lulu reached for it.
“Can I hold it?” She asked, smiling hopefully.
“Can you hold it?” he asked, laughing incredulously. “A gun isn’t a toy, Lulu.”
She rolled her eyes. “I know a gun isn’t a toy. Just...I never have before, and don’t you think handling a weapon is something I should know?”
He blinked. “Um, no, I absolutely do not think it’s something you should know.”
“Come on, Detective,” she said with a sweet smile, her voice a little breathy. “Teach me.” Cruz felt his heart sink. She had him. He wondered if she actually knew how much she could get out of him with just a wink and a smile, or if she was totally innocent of the effect she had on him.
“All right,” he sighed. “I’ll teach you.” He removed the chamber.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” she said, holding up her hands. “Why are you taking out the bullets?” And he had to grin at that. No Spencer was totally innocent.
“You think I’m really going to hand you a loaded weapon here in the park? We’ll save the shooting range for next time.”
“So there will be a next time, huh, Detective?” she smiled dazzlingly at him, and he just laughed.
“We’ll see, Little Spencer, we’ll see.” He put the gun in her hand, and she immediately held it out with one arm, her chest puffed out like in some bad old Western. “Whoa, there, John Wayne!” he said, holding his hands in the air and stepping away.
“What?” she said, grinning impishly. “That’s how my dad does it.”
“Well, you’re going to learn how to do it the right way, not the Cowboys and mobsters way.” Cruz said, moving around behind her.
She watched him with amusement. “Okay, Dad."
He laughed, entirely unamused. “Don’t joke about that, Lulu. You know, I am old enough to be your father.”
She rolled her eyes. “Cruz, do you know how old my father is? Besides, you can’t be any more than, what? Thirty-five?”
Now he wasn’t unamused- he was pissed. “Thirty-one!"
“Oh,” Lulu said, her eyes wide. Then she broke into a fit of uncontrollable laughter.
“It’s not funny,” he shook his head. When he’d turned thirty-one back in December, he’d been glad that the hurdles of his twenties were over. Now, a few months later, he felt his age quite keenly next to Lulu Spencer and her fresh-faced youth.
“You’re right, it’s not funny. I’m sorry, Cruz,” Lulu said, barely able to keep her giggles down.
He sighed. He was doing his best not to act like a crybaby about the whole thing, but that stung.
“Oh, come on, Cruz,” Lulu pleaded, seeing the sad, beat-up look on his face. “You know you’re hot.”
He raised his eyebrows. “I’m what?" This converstaion was sure getting more interesting- and way more uncomfortable. Cruz swallowed hard, and she stopped laughing, blushing pink right up to her hairline.
“Cruz, come on,” Lulu said, not quite so giddy as she had been a moment ago. “You know..." She whispered so softly that Cruz could hardly hear her. His breath caught in his throat. He’d never even entertained the possibility that this...whatever he had been going through for the past few months, whenever he was around her, could actually be mutual. As long as he hadn’t thought of that, he was just some loser, lusting after his buddy’s kid sister. This made it all the more lethal.
“Okay,” he said. It was almost a croak. “Why don’t I show you how to shoot, so we can get out of here?”
“Okay, she said, shakily.
He shook himself a little. “All right, so your shooting arm is the one you write with, and you’re a rightie, so take the gun in your right hand.”
“Like this?” Lulu said, taking her previous stance.
“No, you’ve got to hold it like this,” he said, moving behind her. This was a dangerous game he was playing, but he couldn't be this close to her and not touch her. Moving his right hand over hers, he positioned her fingers the correct way over the handle. “Keep your hand tight, but your finger light over the trigger. And keep your arm a little loose. Then you bring your left arm up to brace your shot.” Lulu had all but stopped breathing as Cruz took her left hand in his. “Now you find your target,” his voice was practically a growl, rumbling in her ear, and Lulu closed her eyes and almost melted into his arms. “Like that tree branch over there. Can you see it?”
“Yeah,” she whispered. He chuckled low.
“Sweetheart, your eyes are closed,” he said softly.
“What? Okay, right. The branch,” Lulu said. “Now what?”
Cruz was silent for a minute, and Lulu could almost feel the world stop turning on its axis, just standing in his arms, his breath warm in her ear. In all these months, she had only wondered, and never known how big and strong and solid he was or how safe she would feel in his arms. And somehow- the knowing was even more torturous than the wondering. “Cruz?” she whispered.
“BANG!” He shouted. She shrieked, and then collapsed against him, white as a sheet, in peals of tear-inducing, sobbing laughter. He was still holding her tightly in his arms, laughing just as hard as she.
“Come on,” he said, between laughing and brushing her hair away from her face. He could not stop touching her. “Let me take you back to that palace of yours, Princess.”
*music used in this section: La Cienega Just Smiled (Ryan Adams) and Just Another (Pete Yorn)
Rating: R-ish
Summary: Could you save yourself, for someone who could love you for you?
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Part I
Part II
Part III
“More biscotti, Detective?” Cruz looked up at the warm smile of Mrs. Santini. It was late at Carmen’s, and the café was almost cleared out. He was looking over photographs taken in Rick Webber’s attic. He’d been staring at them for the past week and his eyes were starting to cross and go blurry.
“No, Mrs. Santini, you’re going to make me fat,” Cruz grinned at the sweet old lady, and she laughed heartily.
“You could use a some of the meat on your bones, Detective,” she said, flirtatiously, her accent only serving to make her more coquettish, even at sixty-five. She placed two more cookies on his plate anyway and poured more coffee in his lukewarm cup, nearly empty. Hearing the merry laughter across the shop, they both looked up to see Lulu and Mr. Santini joking amiably as they cleared tables from the after-dinner crowd.
This was another thing that was becoming far too regular. The nights were getting warmer in late March, almost unseasonably warm, and he kept suggesting that they meet at Carmen’s instead of at his house. It was a nice walk from the station and also PCU, and also...Also, the closed off comfort and privacy of his own home, with his own bedroom only yards away.
Lulu’s eyes met his from across the room, and she smiled.
Dammit. She didn’t even have to try, and he could almost feel himself getting hard.
He tried to breathe easy as she walked over to his table, with a cappuccino in a cardboard take-away cup. “Lula, you take home some tip money tonight, you don’t work for free, no?” Mrs. Santini clucked over Lulu, smoothing her blond hair away from her eyes.
“No, Mrs. Santini, I hardly do anything,” Lulu never took the tip money the Santinis offered. Cruz knew she lived in the biggest mansion in town with the richest family, but it was still something he admired about her. She looked back at Cruz and grinned widely. “You ready to go?”
“Yeah, sure, just a second,” Cruz said, as he saw Mr. Santini struggling to take some boxes out of the back. Lulu watched him go help the old man, not even straining as he lifted the hefty parcels over his shoulder.
“Do you need help with anything else, Mrs. Santini?” Lulu asked, sipping her cappuccino. Damn, if nothing else, she would be forever grateful to Cruz for introducing her to Carmen’s cappuccino.
“No, Lula, you just relax and wait for your boyfriend,” Mrs. Santini said, smiling as she headed back into the kitchen, before Lulu could even correct her.
“Ready?” Cruz asked, coming back out to the table and pulling on his sportcoat
This was another part of their routine that was becoming far too regular. Sometimes they didn’t leave Carmen’s until after midnight. From that first day that she showed up at his front door at the crack of dawn, she would leave at all hours of the night- eleven-thirty, midnight, quarter to one.
"Don’t they wonder where you are?” he’d asked at first.
“The Quartermaines?” she’d laughed, almost a little too bitterly. “Oh, please. They hardly even realize that I’m there.”
How a girl like her didn’t have a soul in the world to look out for her, Cruz did not know. He knew she had her brothers, but they had families of their own to worry about. So, it seemed it was just him.
But no matter how she insisted, he didn’t let her go home alone, ever. At the very least, wen he dropped her off at the end of the Quartermaine’s massive driveway and saw her enter the house, he knew she wouldn’t be doing anything crazy, like try to go after a lead by herself.
Not that there were many leads to go on.
Cruz was starting to get a sinking feeling that this case was going nowhere. Lulu powered on, never losing her optimism or her absolute faith in her mother’s gut instinct that she was innocent. But Cruz was beginning to realize that they were chasing clues around in circles. Was Laura Spencer really a killer? Honestly, he didn’t think so. There were too many holes in the case. Just nothing with which to fill them in.
The day had been warm and Lulu didn’t have a jacket. So Cruz slung his sportcoat over her shoulders as they walked the few blocks to the station where his car was parked. Lulu held it close around her. Over the past few months, she had grown to really love the way he smelled. And she knew he didn’t wear any cologne; it was just a clean scent, masculine, and 100% Cruz Rodriguez.
They were cutting through the park when a noise in the bushes startled him, and before Lulu knew it, he had his gun drawn on a...very confused-looking fat squirrel.
“Got a little bit of a hair trigger there, don’t you, Detective?” Lulu asked, eyebrows raised.
“Sorry,” he said, relaxing his hold on his weapon. “Cop’s instinct, I guess.” The truth was he’d had a suspicious feeling for weeks that he was being watched. Nothing out of the ordinary had happened, just a creepy feeling on the back of his neck. He moved to re-holster his gun, but Lulu reached for it.
“Can I hold it?” She asked, smiling hopefully.
“Can you hold it?” he asked, laughing incredulously. “A gun isn’t a toy, Lulu.”
She rolled her eyes. “I know a gun isn’t a toy. Just...I never have before, and don’t you think handling a weapon is something I should know?”
He blinked. “Um, no, I absolutely do not think it’s something you should know.”
“Come on, Detective,” she said with a sweet smile, her voice a little breathy. “Teach me.” Cruz felt his heart sink. She had him. He wondered if she actually knew how much she could get out of him with just a wink and a smile, or if she was totally innocent of the effect she had on him.
“All right,” he sighed. “I’ll teach you.” He removed the chamber.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” she said, holding up her hands. “Why are you taking out the bullets?” And he had to grin at that. No Spencer was totally innocent.
“You think I’m really going to hand you a loaded weapon here in the park? We’ll save the shooting range for next time.”
“So there will be a next time, huh, Detective?” she smiled dazzlingly at him, and he just laughed.
“We’ll see, Little Spencer, we’ll see.” He put the gun in her hand, and she immediately held it out with one arm, her chest puffed out like in some bad old Western. “Whoa, there, John Wayne!” he said, holding his hands in the air and stepping away.
“What?” she said, grinning impishly. “That’s how my dad does it.”
“Well, you’re going to learn how to do it the right way, not the Cowboys and mobsters way.” Cruz said, moving around behind her.
She watched him with amusement. “Okay, Dad."
He laughed, entirely unamused. “Don’t joke about that, Lulu. You know, I am old enough to be your father.”
She rolled her eyes. “Cruz, do you know how old my father is? Besides, you can’t be any more than, what? Thirty-five?”
Now he wasn’t unamused- he was pissed. “Thirty-one!"
“Oh,” Lulu said, her eyes wide. Then she broke into a fit of uncontrollable laughter.
“It’s not funny,” he shook his head. When he’d turned thirty-one back in December, he’d been glad that the hurdles of his twenties were over. Now, a few months later, he felt his age quite keenly next to Lulu Spencer and her fresh-faced youth.
“You’re right, it’s not funny. I’m sorry, Cruz,” Lulu said, barely able to keep her giggles down.
He sighed. He was doing his best not to act like a crybaby about the whole thing, but that stung.
“Oh, come on, Cruz,” Lulu pleaded, seeing the sad, beat-up look on his face. “You know you’re hot.”
He raised his eyebrows. “I’m what?" This converstaion was sure getting more interesting- and way more uncomfortable. Cruz swallowed hard, and she stopped laughing, blushing pink right up to her hairline.
“Cruz, come on,” Lulu said, not quite so giddy as she had been a moment ago. “You know..." She whispered so softly that Cruz could hardly hear her. His breath caught in his throat. He’d never even entertained the possibility that this...whatever he had been going through for the past few months, whenever he was around her, could actually be mutual. As long as he hadn’t thought of that, he was just some loser, lusting after his buddy’s kid sister. This made it all the more lethal.
“Okay,” he said. It was almost a croak. “Why don’t I show you how to shoot, so we can get out of here?”
“Okay, she said, shakily.
He shook himself a little. “All right, so your shooting arm is the one you write with, and you’re a rightie, so take the gun in your right hand.”
“Like this?” Lulu said, taking her previous stance.
“No, you’ve got to hold it like this,” he said, moving behind her. This was a dangerous game he was playing, but he couldn't be this close to her and not touch her. Moving his right hand over hers, he positioned her fingers the correct way over the handle. “Keep your hand tight, but your finger light over the trigger. And keep your arm a little loose. Then you bring your left arm up to brace your shot.” Lulu had all but stopped breathing as Cruz took her left hand in his. “Now you find your target,” his voice was practically a growl, rumbling in her ear, and Lulu closed her eyes and almost melted into his arms. “Like that tree branch over there. Can you see it?”
“Yeah,” she whispered. He chuckled low.
“Sweetheart, your eyes are closed,” he said softly.
“What? Okay, right. The branch,” Lulu said. “Now what?”
Cruz was silent for a minute, and Lulu could almost feel the world stop turning on its axis, just standing in his arms, his breath warm in her ear. In all these months, she had only wondered, and never known how big and strong and solid he was or how safe she would feel in his arms. And somehow- the knowing was even more torturous than the wondering. “Cruz?” she whispered.
“BANG!” He shouted. She shrieked, and then collapsed against him, white as a sheet, in peals of tear-inducing, sobbing laughter. He was still holding her tightly in his arms, laughing just as hard as she.
“Come on,” he said, between laughing and brushing her hair away from her face. He could not stop touching her. “Let me take you back to that palace of yours, Princess.”
*music used in this section: La Cienega Just Smiled (Ryan Adams) and Just Another (Pete Yorn)