AN: Yet another old prompt from glee_fluff_meme. I love Kurt/Puck frienship, obviously. This isn't really them being best friends, more like antagonistic acquaintances.
Prompt: Kurt gets hurt during football practice and if you manage to throw in Puck or Finn carrying him to the nurse, I'd love you forever!
Oh, God that hurt. He was aching in places he didn't even knew could ache. The ends of his hair hurt. Part of Coach Tanaka's brilliant idea of making Kurt 'part of the team' had involved him participating in drills. In which there was tackling. And the jocks that hated him really liked tackling him. Karofsky had driven his shoulder into Kurt's stomach so many times he was sure to have multiple bruises. And Azimio, the great lump, had landed on him, all of his weight pressing down on Kurt's tiny frame.
And now he couldn't get a deep breath without wheezing. "See you later, homo," Karofsky sneered as he left the field. Kurt had made his way over to the bench and was sitting on it, nearly doubled over. "Hummel?" Kurt groaned. "Go away, Puck. I'm dying. Can I do that in peace, please?" Puck ignored that remark, and took a seat next to him. "Dude, they were kicking your ass today," he said matter of factly. "Really? I hadn't noticed," the smaller boy muttered, wincing in pain as he let out a dry laugh.
"Seriously, Azimio came down hard. Your ribs okay?"
"Do I look okay to you, Puck? I'm doubled over, I can't breathe, and oh my God if one more part of me aches I'm going to scream." Kurt glanced up at him through his ruffled bangs, blowing a wisp out of his face. "What is so amusing, Puckerman?" he growled.
"It's just, I've never heard you get all upset. You're all red and rumpled. It's funny."
"God, I hate you."
"Sure you do," Puck agreed amiably.
Kurt made to stand, but his legs gave out on him and he was on his way to the ground. He braced himself, but he was caught and pulled back by Puck. "Dude, they seriously fucked you up," Puck stated, feeling gently along Kurt's ribs. The kicker winced painfully. "Stop touching it, Neanderthal. It hurts." Puck sighed, then placed one arm under Kurt's knees and the other behind his shoulders. "Brace yourself," he said. "What are - owww," Kurt moaned pitifully, placing a hand over his face. "Yeah, told you to brace yourself."
"Did I mention I hate you?"
"Only twice now."
Puck carried him into the school, where the nurse stayed late on practice days for cases such as these. Backing up into the swinging door, he carefully lay Kurt on one of the cots and called, "Mrs. C, there's a patient here for you."
"Noah, school is over, you don't need a nap," the woman said, coming from inside the supply cabinet. "It's not for me. Hummel got roughed up today in football. And, well, look at him. He's not exactly the roughing up type, you know?"
Kurt grit his teeth. "If you call me Hummel or Dude one more time, Noah, I will cut you. My. Name. Is. Kurt." Puck's eyes widened for a second. "Okay, Jesus. Princess here got his ass handed to him." Kurt groaned. "I hate you."
"Number three. I think we're breaking records," Puck replied cheerfully. The nurse bared Kurt's torso and gasped. "Honey, do you bruise easily?" Kurt nodded miserably. "That looks a lot worse than it is." Puck frowned; it looked pretty bad from where he was. Purplish-blue bruising covered Kurt's ribs, and as the nurse felt along the flesh, he could hear Kurt's small whimpers and gasps of pain. "I can give you some pain pills," she said doubtfully. "But you'll want to go to the doctor and get an actual prescription. I'm also going to wrap those for you."
Kurt nodded, and moved to stand. Without thinking, Puck darted forward to grasp his forearm and gently haul him up. "Don't need you falling over again," he explained uncomfortably when Kurt gave him an odd look. Once Kurt was wrapped and drugged, the nurse let him go and told Puck to make sure he went to the doctor's. Kurt left with just a mumbled, "Thanks, Puck," and the stunned jock stood there for a moment before remembering he'd gotten a ride from Mike, who was gone by now. "Hey, Princess. Wait up," he called, walking quickly to catch up with Kurt's non-existent pace.
"What, Puck?" he snapped, dropping his keys. He put his hands over his face. "Shit!"
"Calm down, du - Kurt." Slowly, Puck reached down and retrieved the keys, pressing them into Kurt's palm. "Now, can you give me a lift home? My truck's screwed up and my ride disappeared." Kurt sighed as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders. "Sure. I guess. Get in." As Puck got into the Navigator, he sighed happily. People could say whatever they wanted about Hummel, but he had a badass car.
"Where am I going? Or should I leave you alone so you can orgasm over my car?" Kurt asked dryly. Puck snapped himself out of his stupor, and, to his horror, blushed. "Turn left, keep going straight, then turn left again," he muttered, leaning his head back against the seat and relaxing. "Right here," he said, somewhat self-consciously. He knew Hummel lived in a nice, big house on the opposite side of Lima. His dad was a successful business owner.
"Thanks for the ride, dude," Puck said, hopping out of the car, now extremely embarrassed. "Noah," Kurt murmured before the door shut.
"If you want, bring the truck in to my dad's shop. I'll look at it for you."
Puck resisted the urge to laugh. "You work on cars?"
Kurt frowned. "Yes. Is that a problem?"
"No, not at all. I just...I don't have the money right now, Kurt. That's why I haven't taken it anywhere."
Kurt thought about it. "On the house."
Puck smiled and shut the door. He was walking up the front step when Kurt rolled down the window and called, "Oh, and Noah?"
Puck turned. "Yeah?"
"I still hate you."
"That's number four. Record broken," Puck called back, letting himself into the house.