William Nylander

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;my bby is hurt :(   ;

World Juniors is finally back and you now have a job again. Sweden rehired you after your small stint during the Winter Olympics as a back up physical doctor. Not only were you the main doctor this year, it was hosted in Finland, a country in Europe you've always wanted to visit.

Not everything was perfect.

Not when William Nylander, your favorite player, gets hurt right after he scored. An illegal check to the head, of course someone would want to remake Sidney Crosby's injury.

When you rush out onto the ice, he is clutching the back of his neck, cursing in Swedish. You hear "jävla helvete." repeated over and over again.

"Will, hey, come on let's get you off the ice." With the help of his brother, you help him off the ice quickly and into the locker room. "Lay him down over there, you can get back to the game."

They mutter back and forth in their language, before leaving the two of you alone. "I'm fine, I just need to wash my face." His accent is thicker than you remember, when the manager introduced you, there wasn't much talking.

"At least let me do a concussion test."

He doesn't listen to me, and goes to splash his face with water. "Ms. Y/N, let me sit on the bench, and if it still hurts, I'll come back here."

****

You're silently waiting next to the bench for William to finally admit that you was right. When he looks back at you with so much pain on his face, you finally take it as a sign to take him back.

You gesture for him to get up and follow you. "You have a concussion, you're staring at the plays like they are playing football (European) on the ice, you're dropping your stick everywhere, and it's like you can't hear anybody. Are your ears ringing?" Once you are back in the locker room, you immediately give your diagnosis.

"Yeah." He mutters, "I'm guessing the hospital is my next stop?"

"You'll be out for a couple games."

He sighs deeply, "I know."

"I'm not making this better am I?"

"No. But I know what you can do to make it better." He suggests, you can see the internal battle on his face.

"What?" Once that question leaves your lips, your lips are touching his. They are soft, matching his facial features, but the kiss doesn't last long. Not even a second later, he is brushing your fringe out of your face, staring into your eyes.

"It looks like my coordination is back."

"That is just luck, Nylander." You pat his shoulder. "Now go get dressed I'm taking you to the hospital."

"Yes ma'am."


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