When you had found out that you were expecting your second child, you and Laurent were ecstatic. Your son on the other hand, was not. You and Laurent brushed if off as normal behavior. It was usual for a kid to not want a little brother or sister to steal their spotlight. You later delivered your daughter. You and Laurent couldn't be happier.

Your son, however, seemed different. After you brought your daughter home, you and Laurent tried to pay equal attention to both of your children. But, a newborn always required more attention than a toddler. Laurent was also swamped with football. Whenever your daughter was sleeping, you would place all of your attention on you son. Laurent was able to because of his job.

When Laurent was gone for a night due to international call, you tucked your son into bed. "Why doesn't daddy love me as much as my sister?" your son asked.

"Your daddy loves you both just as much. Why would you say that?"

"He never spends any time with me anymore. It's all her fault. Can't we return her to the hospital?" your son asked.

"It doesn't work like that," you smiled. Your son huffed before turning his back to you. Your smile dropped as you rubbed your son's back. "You're father loves both your sister and you with every fiber in his being. Trust me, he loves you," you stated. Kissing your son's forehead, you get up and turn of the lights. You sigh before closing the door. You went to pick up Laurent from the airport the next day.

Your kids were at your mother's house for the hour while you picked up Laurent. You stood waiting for Laurent to show up. He turned the corner, in conversation with Olivier Giroud. Laurent bid goodbye to Olivier before walking over to me. "Welcome home," you smiled, pulling your husband into a hug.

"Thank you for picking me up," Laurent replied. "Did you guys watch the match?"

"Every minute of it," you smiled before remembering the conversation you had with your son. As you sat in the car, Laurent loaded his bag into the trunk of the car. He hopped into the car and you drove away. "Lolo, there's something I need to tell you."

"What is it, love?" he asked, taking your hand in his.

"(Y/S/N) thinks that you don't love him."

"That's absurd, of course I love my own son!" Laurent exclaimed.

"I know. I told him that. He said that you don't spend any time with him because of your job and (Y/D/N)," you sighed. Laurent sighed. You could feel the guilt that was emanating from your husband. "Lolo, it's not your fault."

"I'll make it up to him," Laurent said, squeezing your hand in reassurance. You stopped at your mother's house to pick up your kids. Knocking on the door, you could hear people moving on the inside. Your mother opened the door and moved for your son to burst through the door.

"All she's done this whole time is cry," your son complained.

"That's what you did too when you were that small," Laurent smiled, picking up his son. Your son looked apprehensive. "Hey, (Y/S/N), do you want to play football in the backyard when we get home?"

"Sure," your son smiled, looking actually excited at the idea that his father was paying attention to him. You picked up your daughter and buckled your children into the back. When you arrived home, your son quickly ran to the backyard, carrying a smaller version of a football. You and Laurent smiled as Laurent followed your son out to the backyard.

You put your daughter down for a nap before walking out into the back yard. Laurent had bought a small goal and had painted a mini goal box. "Okay, now try and get it past me," Laurent told his son. Your son smiled and jogged forward, the ball moving with his small feet. Laurent went up to 'challenge' your son. Spreading his legs far apart, Laurent gave your son an opening. Your son nutmegged your husband and headed towards the goal. He scored and did a little victory dance as your husband pretended to be in disbelief. "How is that possible?" Laurent asked your son. "How did you score?"

Your son just giggled at your husband. A smile plastered itself on Laurent's face as he picked up your son and twirled him around in the air. Your son's giggling could probably be heard for miles and Laurent's chuckle as well. You smiled at their father son moment together. Setting your son back on the ground, Laurent bent down to your son's level.

"Now try and stop me from scoring," Laurent said, dribbling the ball away from your son. "Ready?"

"Ready," your son confirmed. Laurent 'jogged' forward with the ball. He stepped to the left of your son. Your son, having watched his father play for as long as he had, imitated a slide tackle just like his father. Laurent pretended to trip and fall as your son got back up and got the ball. "I win!"

"Impossible!" Laurent replied, still on the ground. Your son laughed and tackled his father. The two wrestled for a bit which resulted in a tickle war between the two. Smiling to yourself, you went inside to cook dinner. Your daughter remained quietly asleep, which you were thankful for, as you pulled out the ingredients for dinner.

As you cooked peacefully, you noticed storm clouds on the horizon. This was common for England and you thought Laurent would have been smart enough to come inside before the rain hit. However, ten minutes after the downpour started, your muddy and soaking wet husband and son entered your house. "You are not walking around the house like that, you'll track mud everywhere!" you shouted from the kitchen. Laurent picked up your son and when you weren't looking, bolted towards the bathroom. "You're cleaning that up later Koscielny!"

The laughter of your son and husband lessened your anger and by the time dinner was done, both of them had cleaned up. You served dinner as the two of them gobbled it down, making you realize the similarities between the two of them. "I swear, you two are like twins," you sighed to yourself.

"Is that a problem?" Laurent smiled.

"You're making me go grey early," you joked. That night, you and Laurent put your son to sleep. Laurent kissed your son's head before heading to the door. You leaned down to kiss your son's head when he turned to whisper something to you.

"Daddy does love me, false alarm," he smiled before turning back over. You smiled and kissed his head before walking out of the room with your husband.

"Problem solved," you confirmed.