"Remember Me", Californication, Lew/Janie
Title: Remember Me
Author: imaginethetruth [M. Willoughby]
Fandom: Californication
Characters/Pairings: Lew Ashby/Janie Jones
Rating/Warnings: R - profanity, drinking, sexual references
Summary: Lew's fucked up for the last time.
Disclaimer: I own not a single, amazing, fucking iota of the greatness that is Californication. *bows down to the writers and David Duchovny*
Author's Notes: I just finished the second season of Californication the other day, and I must say, I'm completely obsessed with it. I came for Callum, stayed for the show. The relationship between Lew and Janie has always fascinated me - I see a lot of self denial on Lew's part, and a lot of buried feelings on Janie's. This short fic is a snapshot of their relationship in the old days.
“Fuck,” Lew curses, running a hand through his carefully spiked hair. “Don't do this, Janie.”
Janie wheels around, her eyes wild and anguished. “I will do whatever the hell I want, Lew! Get away from me, I fucking hate you.”
Her breasts strain against her tight black dress. God you're beautiful, Lew thinks.
“Well I love the shit out of you, so that...sucks.”
“No you don't.” Big black mascara tears run down Janie's face. Her lips tremble. “You don't love me.”
Lew inches towards her, praying she won't bolt. She doesn't.
“Then clearly we're having a serious communication issue, because last time I checked, I was the nutty one.” He says quietly.
She doesn't answer him, merely looks at him. Tears brim her shockingly blue eyes.
Eyes that make me want to cry...
Gently he takes her wrists in his hands and pushes them against his chest. “I love you, Janie Jones.”
Janie closes her eyes, melting into his body as she exhales slowly.
Lew breathes out a sigh of relief, resting his chin upon her head.
“Stop,” she sniffs. “You're going to fuck up my hair.”
He grins, making no effort to remove the offending chin. “I like it messy. Besides, you're my girl. You look good without -”
“My girl?” Janie shrieks, squirming away from him. “My girl?! Do you use that on all of the women you screw with, or do you just fuck them and have done with it?”
Lew's eyes widen, and he reaches out to her. “No! Janie stop, we were actually making some progress!”
Janie shakes her head vigorously, her deep blue eyes filling with hatred. “No, Lew. We're not making progress. In fact, I think we're going in the opposite direction.”
“We were just making up!”
“Yeah, after you slept with another woman...at my own party!” She picks up a red thong from off the floor and hurls it at him. “Very classy, Lew.”
“Janie, don't act like that, we can work this out,” Lew warns, inching forward with his hands raised.
“No,” she snaps. “I'm done working it out. This is the last time you'll ever humiliate me. I can't take it anymore.”
Lew stops dead. “What do you mean?” he asks slowly.
“I've had it,” her voice breaks. “I'm done, okay. I'm sick of you fucking around and doing whatever the hell you want. I'm done with you.”
“Janie, don't do this,” Lew warns, taking her shoulder in his hand. “You're drunk and you don't know what the hell you're talking about.”
She shakes his hand off angrily. “Yeah, well that's me, isn't it? Lew Ashby's drunk idiot of a girlfriend. Well I'm over that.”
Motionless, Lew watches her as she retreats to the doorway.
“Grow up, Lew,” she says bitterly as she opens the door. The sounds from the party below are suddenly loud and ear-shattering.
Just before she goes, she turns around. Her eyes are deep and filled with regret. “Next time you fuck someone, remember me.”
And then she's gone.
The door slams shut, and the noises below are muted again.
Lew sits down on the bed. Mechanically, he reaches for a shot glass filled with some sort of amber liquid and throws it down. He doesn't even shudder at the burn.