jack abbot x resident!reader
summary- sometimes guilt isn't a painful reminder; sometimes it feels good, warm, and right.
tags/tropes - age gap, intense slowburn, small amount of tension but no smut (sorry), hurt/not alot comfort, insanely toxic ex, verbal and emotional abuse, manipulation, medical inaccuracy, no physical abuse
authors note- this ended up being longer than I wanted it to be so there will be a second part. i know there isn't much jack in this but i promise the second part will have more!!!! in order for there to be comfrot there needs to be hurt!!! this is my first ever proper published writing so be nice please
“Just stay home, tell them you're not coming back.” He had said. “You were saying a week before that you felt like you weren't cut out for it.”
“I know,” you mumbled. “But I think I’m not going to leave.”
“What?” He retorted, the glass in his hand pausing before it touched his lips. “Why?”
His face contorted in complete confusion, as if the words you had said were completely scattered around that they were immaterial.
“Well, I thought about it, and it would be stupid to end it all now.” You reasoned, “For starters, think about the student debt. I need to pay that off.”
You leaned back in the chair you were setting at, looking over to the side. You both sat at the dining table, empty plates of food in front of you, the first of many after a long time. It felt odd to be sitting in front of him again, sharing a glass of wine and talking without ever ending it in an argument, but you couldn’t get that nagging feeling out of your chest. You couldn’t look him in the eyes for longer than five seconds, a bitter taste in your mouth when he mentioned how deeply he enjoyed the time you two were starting to spend with each other.
He’d come up behind you, grasping at your waist and placing a kiss on your temples, mumbling, “I missed this. You should just stay home forever.”
That would make a girl swoon; it should make a girl feel loved and wanted, but it made the veins in your body itch, your fingers twitching at his words.
You would catch yourself dozing off as he kissed you in the night, his touch cold and unwashed.
You turned to him, brows furrowed, and lips turned. You paused, watching the muscles in his face.
“If it keeps you home with me, I’ll do it.” He sent you a wink, a toothy smile. It only made your brows furrow deeper, and your lips turn down lower.
“I’m finishing this Isaac. This took 8 years of my life, I have to see it through.”
“We didn’t decide anything.”
He sighed, clearly frustrated, “But look at how well this week was for us, it was great-”
“It wasn’t great, I was miserable. I cleaned up after you all week, cooked, did all the errands, and I fixed the damn light in the guest bathroom!”
Both your bodies were stiff, your hands holding the empty wine glass tight. “So what? I did all that for you when you were at work, and you never heard me complain-”
“I never asked you to do any of that for me! I told you I could clean up after myself, but you complained, and complained every single night-”
“I complained because you were never here!” Isaac snapped, his chair scraping harshly against the floor as he stood. “God, you act as if I chained you to that hospital.”
You stood too, pulse hammering. “No, you just make me feel guilty for wanting anything outside of you.”
“That’s not what this is.”
“Then what is it?” you shot back. “Because every conversation somehow turns into you convincing me to quit my job and stay here with you, like that’s supposed to fix everything.”
His jaw clenched. “You said you were unhappy there.”
The words landed between you both like shattered glass.
Isaac stared at you, stunned and silent for half a second before his face twisted into something ugly. “That’s bullshit.”
“No,” you whispered, throat burning. “It’s not.”
You could feel your heartbeat in your fingertips now, your body buzzing with anger so intense it almost made you nauseous.
“I gave up everything for you,” he continued. “I moved here for you. I stayed when you kept choosing that place over me every single day.”
“I never asked you to do that either!”
“Because you never ask for anything,” he barked. “You just make people miserable until they figure it out themselves.”
You thought about every apology you’d swallowed. Every shift you spent sick with guilt. Every hour spent trying to make him softer, happier, easier to love. And suddenly you couldn’t picture spending another year like this. Maybe not even another month.
Isaac continued in the back, his voice muffling in and out as you came to the conclusion. You didn’t want to be here anymore. You pushed away from the table, walking around the dining table.
“I have work in the morning.”
He laughed again. “Of course you do.”
You didn’t answer him this time. His laugh was shut abruptly as you walked into the guest bedroom, slamming it shut behind you. You slept well; the cool, unused mattress felt nice against your heated and angry skin.
You walked through the automatic doors, the flat hospital air hitting your skin. The chaos wrapped around you like a hug. Lena and Dana stood at the other end of the nurses' station, both their heads lifting from the documents in their hands.
You tried your best to give them both a smile with all your teeth showing, but it felt like you were overcompensating. You felt like a walking horror movie.
“Well, aren’t you looking fresher than ever?” Dana quipped, making her way over to you, wrapping her free arm around you lightly, “If this is what a week away from here does to you, I can only imagine what a month would do.”
You just hummed at her words. You felt like you were finally floating, as if this were all a dream, and soon you would have to wake up and let reality snatch you away. Let Isaac snatch you away.
Your absence didn’t go unnoticed. People pulled you in for side hugs, pats on the shoulder, plenty of “Great to see you back.”
From the corner of your eye, you saw Jack walking in. His hand wrapped around the strap of the bag resting on his shoulder, a coffee in the other hand. Your gazes met for only a few seconds before he lifted his cup, tilting it in your direction. A small smile pulled at your lips, giving a small wave. This time, that heavy feeling in your stomach wasn’t there anymore. Only this time it was replaced with something lighter.
You settled yourself back into the routine of the night shift, grabbing a few patients from triage and slowly building yourself up to the more complex and difficult cases.
By 5 in the morning, the lull of the night shift was coming to an end, and the waiting rooms were overflowing, and stretchers lined against the walls because there weren’t enough rooms left to put patients in. A toddler screamed somewhere near triage with the kind of relentless cry that drilled straight into the skull, monitors chimed nonstop from every direction, and overhead pages bled together into meaningless static.
“You’re looking more like yourself tonight.”
Perlah’s voice caught you while you updated a chart at the nurses’ station. She handed over a clipboard without much ceremony, but there was something gentler in the way she looked at you now.
You blinked at her. “That obvious?”
“A little.” She shrugged. “You stopped apologizing before every sentence.”
A quiet laugh escaped you before you could stop it.The sound surprised you. Perlah smirked faintly before walking off toward another room, leaving you staring down at the chart in your hands. Your chest felt strangely loose, like something wound tight around your ribs had finally started to unravel.
Jack appeared beside you a few minutes later, bumping his shoulder lightly against yours as he reached for the stack of lab reports.
“No near-death experiences tonight?” he asked.
“Mm. I was starting to miss yelling at you.”
You rolled your eyes, but your smile lingered this time instead of disappearing immediately after. He noticed. Of course he noticed.
“Better,” he said quietly.
Your fingers paused over the keyboard. The word settled strangely inside you. For a terrifying second, you realized you hadn’t thought about Isaac in almost an hour. The realization hit harder than guilt should have.
You looked away quickly, focusing back on the chart in front of you, but your mind wandered anyway. To the untouched guest bedroom. To the silence after your fight. To the way your body had finally rested without waiting for the sound of footsteps outside the door. A heaviness settled low in your stomach that brought an unfamiliar feeling that you didn't want to let go. It felt comforting and quiet.
By the time your shift finally ended, your bones ached with exhaustion, but it felt earned this time. You peeled your gloves off slowly while the morning shift flooded the halls in fresh scrubs and caffeinated chatter.
“You heading home?” Dana asked while passing by with a tablet tucked against her chest.
“Get some sleep before you collapse dramatically in front of a patient,” she warned.
Dana laughed before disappearing around the corner.
You grabbed your bag from the locker room, shrugging your hoodie back on. Your phone had been dead half the shift, buried forgotten in your locker. When you finally plugged it in, the screen flickered to life in your hand.
Three notifications appeared instantly.
Two missed calls from Isaac. One text.
Don’t come back here tonight.
Your stomach dropped. Another message came through before you could even process the first.
I packed your shit. You can come get it whenever.
You stopped walking entirely. Patients passed through the hospital while nurses moved around you in tired clusters, but the world suddenly felt distant, muffled.
Your fingers shook as you called him. Straight to voicemail.
Your throat tightened painfully as you looked down at the small overnight bag sitting beside your locker. You had nothing else with you except hospital scrubs and a dead charger.
Left your boxes in the garage. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.
You stared at the screen so long that it started to blur. You thought you would feel devastated. Instead, all you felt was cold. Like your body already knew this was coming before your brain did. “Hey.”
Jack’s voice cut through softly from down the hallway. You looked up too quickly.
He stood near the nurses’ station with a chart tucked under one arm, brows already pulling together the second he looked at your face. The easy exhaustion that usually sat on him disappeared almost instantly. His brows were scrunched and shoulders jutted. The exhaustion for the night was showing even while looking so put together
You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. Your head shook a bit, refusing to admit the hard part.
Jack was moving before you answered, closing the distance between you both in a few quick steps. His eyes dropped briefly to the phone still clutched in your hand.
Your laugh came out broken and quiet. “I think I just got dumped over text.”
His head tilted, clear confusion and disbelief wrapped around his face. “What?”
You swallowed hard, staring back down at the messages because looking at him somehow felt worse. Maybe you were hoping this was all a dream, the lack of sleep for the night was new to you and you had simply imagined the worst from the night before. But in front of you were the pixilated texts he had sent moments okay.
“He kicked me out.” The words sounded strangely calm coming out of your mouth. Detached. “While I was here.”
For a second, Jack said nothing. Not because he didn’t know what to say. Because he was trying very hard not to say too much. An ‘I told you so’ danced in his mind but even he knew that would be cruel. But he wanted to say it. To grab you by the shoulders and shake you, saying ‘He never knew how great you were, but I did!’
The silence around you suddenly felt heavy. Nurses drifted past the hallway entrance, monitors chimed faintly in the distance, someone overhead paged respiratory to trauma two. Life kept moving while yours stood painfully still.
“Okay,” Jack said finally, voice low and steady. “Okay. First, you’re not driving anywhere right now.”
You blinked at him, shooting back a quick, “I’m fine.”
“No, you’re in shock.” His tone softened slightly. “Big difference.”
“I’m not in shock.” Your grip tightened around the phone again. “I just-” Your voice cracked suddenly. “I don’t actually have anywhere to go.”
Fuzziness grew on the edges of your line of sight. It was warm as it slowly built up. That did it. Something sharp flashed across his face before he smoothed it over again.“You do,” he said immediately.
You shook your head. “Jack-”
“You’re not sleeping in your car.”
Tears out to bay, you voice found strength again without cracking as you turned your head quickly, “I wasn’t going to-”
“You thought about it.” His eyes locked onto yours. “Which means my point still stands.”
The exhaustion finally hit all at once. It dragged through your limbs, heavy and cruel. You felt stupid standing there in wrinkled scrubs with your life shoved into garbage bags somewhere across town.
Jack glanced toward the station before looking back at you again.
“Come sit down for a second.”
“That wasn’t a suggestion.”
Normally you would’ve argued just to prove you could, but your body gave up before your pride did.
He guided you toward the empty consult room near the end of the hall, hand warm against the middle of your back for only a second before pulling away again. Careful. Always careful.
You sat heavily in one of the chairs while he disappeared briefly down the hallway. When he came back, he handed you a cup of vending machine coffee and a stale blueberry muffin still in plastic wrap.
You stared at it. “Really?”
“It was either this or expired graham crackers from pediatrics.”
Despite everything, a weak laugh escaped you. Jack’s shoulders loosened slightly at the sound. The right corner of his lips raised the slightest as his eyes traveled around your face, capturing the small signs of a new warmth that took over the uncertainty.
“There she is,” he murmured quietly.
The words almost hurt more than the texts did. Your eyes burned again, and this time you looked away before he could notice. Your lips trembled only slightly, shoving the cup of lukewarm bitter coffee to your lips to control it. Your eyes were fully coated in a sheen that blurred everything.
How utterly embarrassing.
“He just left my things outside.” You spoke up after a minute of silence. His eyes never left your frame. “My entire life just packed up outside.”
“Oh god.” Your breathing quickened, the gravity of the situation finally settling in. “I have to go get my stuff. Someone could steal it- my stuff- or it could get-” You stood up, grabbing the bag you had placed on the floor.
Jack jumped from his seat as you frantically grabbed your stuff and rounded yourself around the station.
“Hey hey hey,” He grabbed your shoulders, steadying you. His heavy hands pulled you down planting your feet against the floor like a weighted blanket. “Take a minute and breathe, and then you and I will go get your things.”
He pulled your bag out of your hand, trading it for the coffee he had gifted you. Your blue denim bag sat on his shoulder, maneuvering with familiarity that left a feeling that rested in your body. Your eyes never left it. He slowly grabbed your hand, pulled you through the chaos that was the pitt, and walked you outside. His fingers padded against yours and fit like a glove. As cliché as it may sound, it felt right. His fingers were soft and calloused at the same time, which confused you even more, creating a fuzzy haze.
The heavy, deep breathing slowed, but the saltine wetness still set at the brim of your waterline as you pressed your lips together firmly to stop the tremble.
This wasn't fair at all. He walked past your car.
“You’re not driving right now.”
“You can argue with me later.”
His tone left absolutely no room for debate.
He guided you towards his truck opening the passenger door before setting your bag inside. You stood there for a second too long, staring blankly at the seat.
“C’mon,” he said gentler now. “Get in.”
You obeyed without thinking.
You didn't know when you had given him your address, but the morning rush acted as white noise for you two. One hand holding the steering wheel lazily, while the other held down on his thigh. You took a long look at him, capturing the way his lips pursed out just the slightest, how he watched the road without moving his head, letting his eyes glance around at all the mirrors.
“I’d need to go back to my car.” You said quietly, breaking the silence. You didn't look away. “And then I can probably find a hotel, or a motel.”
You shrugged. “Whichever's cheaper.” You tried to joke.
But the joke didn't land. You watched him shift in his seat, adjusting his back against the seat and moving free hand to his face as he rubbed at his scruff.
He shook his head then shrugged, “I have an extra room, you can just stay with me.”
Your chest raised as you took a deep breath, “No I can't. I-I don't even think that's allowed.”
“Think of it as a friendly favor.” He waved his hand out, brushing you off. “Besides, Whitaker has house-sat for Robby many times. I don't think anyone's going to snitch.”
You weren’t sure what to say. “I wasn’t going to let you be alone anyway, so there's no need to argue.”
Jack didn't let you get out of the car when you had reached your place. Well, it was now Isaac's place, not yours. He had brought in the trash bags and boxes full of clothes, and the boxes full of bathroom necessities, shoes, bags, and every other miscellaneous things you had collected throughout your life.
You watched through the windshield as he carried your life out piece by piece. Humiliating.
The front curtains shifted once.Your stomach turned violently.
“He’s watching,” you whispered.
Jack’s shoulders visibly stiffened as he loaded another box into the truck bed. He glanced once toward the window before deliberately turning his back to the house completely.
You sifted through them all, making sure nothing was left behind because you knew if you were never coming back. A heavy weight sank in your stomach at the realization that he had packed everything. Your entire presence in his life was stored away neatly and so meticulously that it was so cruel.
“If you want, I can go in and do one last sweep.”
You shook your head, tears brimming once again, “No it's okay. I'm actually shocked he packed everything.”
Your hands quickly reached up to press into your eyes, your lip quivered as you repeated the words “Everything. He packed everything.”
And before you knew it, molten hot tears ran down your cheeks. The wetness was full of anger, embarrassment, and so much frustration, because at the time he got the last laugh. He kicked you out after belittling you and demoralizing you to the point of giving up. You had officially turned you into a laughingstock, he had made you homeless with your things scattered around your once shared front lawn out in the open. And he done it all orderly and choreographed that it was comical.
Those same heavy arms reached around your shoulder, pulling you in tightly. The musky smell filled your nose and it felt warm. You felt so warm in his embrace in the coming feast to what you felt in bed with Isaac every night. You leaned in, a small sob escaping you. Jack's arms squeezing harder, like he was wringing it out of you. His fingertips padded around your arm and back, pressing into you.
“I'm sorry,” he hushed against your hair, “this is so cruel and sick, you don't deserve this. Okay? Do you hear me?”
You heard him, but you didn't agree. Maybe there was something you could have done better. That evil voice came back and taunted you, telling you that you were wrong. That voice started to sound similar to Isaac. Heating and irritating.
You didn't know how long you stayed in his arms, but soon the tears slowed and the fast breathing slowed. Jack felt like he could slowly unravel you from his arms, a ghost of a kiss placed on your temple as he mumbled against your skin, "I'm taking you home, okay?”
Jack told you to not worry about the bags and boxes that were stuffed away in the backseat and trunk of his car. He pulled you out from his truck and brought you into his house. A cozy area, full of greenery and flowers. The morning sun brought it to life and it almost made you laugh in irony because the grass in front of your old house which you shared with Isaac had started to yellow and die out before the seasons change. The signs were all there.
The inside of his house was lived in. Everything had a place, a jacket hanging on the back of a chair, a throw blanket lay scrunched up, books piled up on the counter. Tiny things were scattered around that felt like a place where you could, well, live. This was a home.
Jack kicked his shoes off near the doorway. “Sorry about the mess.”
You blinked slowly around the room. “This is messy to you?”
He glanced around once before shrugging. “Dana says I live like a divorced dad.”
A weak laugh escaped you before you could stop it.His mouth twitched upward instantly at the sound. “There she is again,” he murmured.
You rolled your eyes weakly, but heat crept into your cheeks anyway.
Jack had guided you to the guest room and bathroom, showing you how to work the shower, where the towels were. “These should fit okay,” he said, holding a goose and plaid pajama pants out toward you. “The hoodie shrunk in the wash, so it’s basically useless to me now.”
You took the clothes carefully from his hands.The hoodie smelled like him.
Fresh detergent layered over lingering cologne and something distinctly warm underneath it all. The realization sent guilt curling instinctively through your stomach before exhaustion smothered it back down.
His expression softened instantly. You wished it hadn’t.Because suddenly the lump in your throat came rushing back all over again. Jack rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly before shrugging one shoulder. “You don’t have to thank me.”
The words hit harder than they should have. Because somewhere along the line, you had started treating kindness like something earned instead of freely given. He must’ve seen something shift across your face because his own expression tightened slightly.
“Hey,” he said softer now. “None of this is inconvenient for me.” Your fingers tightened around the borrowed clothes.
“That’s the problem,” you admitted quietly. Jack went still.
“I don’t,” You swallowed hard. “I don’t know what to do when people are nice to me anymore.”
The confession slipped out before you could stop it. Jack’s jaw flexed once before he stepped a little closer.
“You don’t have to do anything,” he said carefully. “You don’t have to earn staying here. Or apologize for taking up space. You just need sleep.”
Your eyes burned again immediately. God. You were so tired of crying. You nodded quickly before turning away toward the hallway because if you looked at him any longer, you might completely fall apart again.
“Take all the time you need, there's no rush.” He said, “I'll make us some breakfast.”
The bathroom mirror fogged quickly beneath the hot shower. The water burned against your skin, nearly scalding, but you stood beneath it anyway until your muscles finally began to loosen for the first time in months. And then you cried again. Quietly this time. Standing inside someone else’s home wrapped in someone else’s clothes while they made you breakfast downstairs felt infinitely more intimate than anything you had experienced in years.
The smell of breakfast drifted down the hallway immediately. Butter. Coffee.Something sweet.
You followed it slowly toward the kitchen where Jack stood at the stove in a black t-shirt and gray sweatpants, flipping pancakes one-handed while half-reading something on his phone.
Domesticity looked unfairly good on him. Like this was always what he was meant for. He glanced up at the sound of your footsteps and immediately froze. His eyes traveled over you once. Then very quickly away again. The back of his neck flushed faintly pink.
“They fit,” he cleared his throat.
You looked down at yourself. “Barely.”
A quiet huff of laughter escaped him before he turned back toward the stove, suddenly very invested in the pancakes again.
“There’s coffee,” he said. “And before you say you hate it, I already made tea too.”
Jack glanced over his shoulder, his eyes trailed over you quizzical look.
“You make the same face every time you drink coffee,” he said simply, answering the confusion written across your face. “Thought maybe you just liked the excuse to hold the cup.”
Your stomach flipped violently. Because Isaac had dated you for years and still forgot how you took your tea, but here was Jack, who remembered a facial expression.
You stepped forward, hands leaning against the counter. “I only drank the coffee because you gave it.” You told him truthfully.
You scored a bit to yourself, “I actually hate coffee.” Your fingers pattered against the counter. “But I didn't really mind the taste when you gave it.”
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