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Coulson had always had a calling, for the priesthood, for a life of religion, of serving God and doing His work. What he had not expected, however, was for Him to come into his life in the way that He had. He was a priest, as he had expected, and he had a flock of parishioners every Sunday. That, at least, was simple.
What wasn't simple was the five individuals sat on the floor of the church, sharing the food that he had prepared and laughing amongst themselves, the very image of joy and relaxation, joking even. He would have said that their behaviour was inappropriate for the setting, if it wasn't for the large wings stretched out behind each of them, a sign that they belonged here far more than he ever could.
As he watched them, a child's prayer echoed in his mind, the words altering slightly at each individual, and he smiled to himself.
Now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray the Lord my soul to keep,
thy angels watch me through the night,
and keep me safe till morning's light.
That was his own guardian, his Clint - an angel that had once been a messenger, a skilled communicator and a warrior with lightening reflexes, and yet had found himself amongst the rest of these outcasts. More than that, Clint had taken it upon himself to be Coulson's own guardian, a protector to defend him at any cost. Coulson worried about that at times, but could not deny he needed the protection which Clint could offer.
Now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray the Lord my soul to keep,
If I shall die before I wake,
I pray the Lord my soul to take.
Clint flopped back where he was sitting, the large white wings serving as a cushion, and got poked in the stomach by Natasha, wielding a fork with the accuracy of any of her knives. She was the angel of death, her wings stained black by the place of her birth. There was no death in heaven, and so she had been born outside of it, raised by monsters. There were scars in her eyes, and on her body, and she could not eat the food the rest of them ate. She could not drink the holy water. But she was part of this, and when his time came, Coulson knew that he could trust her to care for his soul.
Now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray the Lord my soul to keep,
If I should die before I wake,
Bless me Lord my soul to take.
It was only recently that Tony would deign to join them for meals. Before, he had always eaten alone, lost in his thoughts. The metallic wings he had made for himself were flapping slightly, shifting, but he was not tense. Tony had been one of the purest, once, until a summoning, experiments and torture had driven that goodness away, had taken his soul from him, left it in tatters like the wings themselves. He blasphemed, and drank, and was the very opposite of what an angel was meant to be. But he was still a part of this, still a part of them. He might have rejected everything, but they had not rejected him.
Now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray the Lord my soul to keep.
Guide me safely through the night,
Wake me with the morning light.
The leader of the group, was Steve, his head bowed for a moment as he said grace over his food, earning an annoyed glare from Natasha. He had been a warrior of light, and he was still a soldier - it was clear in his poise, his movements, and the shield he could conjure in a moment if it were needed. He was the one that held the group together, that guided them. He had sacrificed his own nature to save a group of humans, and he was outcast - too pure for hell, but too tainted for heaven. The ritual of prayer was one thing that calmed him. And whilst heaven was forever closed to him, he would still guide others to its light.
Now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray the Lord my soul to keep,
Angels watch me through the night,
and wake me with the morning light.
Finally, Coulson's attention turned to the last of the group, the newcomer who had been found only a few days previously. A scientist, a man of reason and of faith, whose soul was scarred by a simple mistake, swallowed up by the soul of a being far greater than himself. But here. Part of the family, as for all of them. He was going to be guarded, to be safe, as he needed to be.
Clint patted a flagstone beside him, and Coulson sat with all of them, looking over the entire group, reciting a different prayer in his mind, before also starting to eat, joining in with the laughter, the sense of belonging that came so naturally here.
Amen.