A Note to the Reader: I think I've hit a bit of a roadblock with I'm One of You, so have a cute little chapter about an AU I've had in my head for a loooong time. I'm sure it's not the most original idea, but I find it adorable o wo

It had taken him quite a while to get to that particular point in his declining emotional state. He was strong during the viewing, but as soon as they had started talking about her, his breathing became labored. He cast sideways glances at his kids to comfort him, but the sight was just as unbearable as what was going on in his mind. Loki and Thor were clinging together, sobbing grossly. Steve and Tony were weeping on and off, Clint was literally shaking in his emotional pain, and Natasha – who was in tears, herself, - held onto his hand to keep him calm. Bruce seemed to be the most composed of all, shockingly, but even his eyes were red and puffy. He held a little dandelion in-between his fingers, and Coulson knew he was hurting just as bad as the rest. In his own hands Phil was holding onto a laurel of wildflowers to lay on his wife's coffin.

"...Sara Coulson was a woman of the most polite demeanor and a willingness to help anyone in need. She was a beautiful, calm lady of extraordinary strength. She adopted seven children and had begun raising them as her own, a task that now falls to her brave husband. She had always showered everyone with love and respect. The world will miss this woman and the gifts she had to offer, from her generous spirit, to her skilled hand at the cello."

At the mere mention of her name, Coulson lurched forward slightly and a wad of air caught in his throat. Once the man had spoken of the kids and the cello, once they had said everything they were going to say about the lost life of a beautiful, courageous woman, Phil Coulson finally began crying. Not weeping or sobbing, but actually crying. This lasted only until they announced the lowering of the coffin, when he had to man up and step forward. And so, with shaky hands, the widower laid the laurel down on the coffin and muttered words of thanks and of love before stepping back to watch his wife be lowered into the ground. He could hear his kids wailing in the background. He immediately spun on his heel and approached them with his arms outstretched, gathering them all into one big embrace. There was a hush over the crowd, but Phil decided to pretend that they weren't there.

"Now, guys, she loved you all a lot, okay? We'll find who did this, and things will be okay, I promise."

Tony looked up at his father with reddened eyes that were filled with wonder in spite of the heavy sadness that lidded them, "You mean...We get to stay with you?"

"Of course you do, Tony, I love you all so, so, much," Phil said, pulling them into him again for another squeeze and burying his head in the pool of children, "I don't know what I would do without any of you."

Someone planted a kiss on his forehead, probably Thor, with his strange customs. Phil only smiled and stood back up on his feet and stretched out hands to be held, "Let's go to the car, now, okay?" Everyone nodded and everyone was grasping at hands, "Let's just go home." Phil murmured, rubbing his thumb over whoever knuckles he happened to be holding. It was something Sara had always done for him whenever they had held hands. The thought of her again had Phil choking on air.

The car ride home had been quiet and peaceful instead of the awkwardly pained silence Phil had been expecting. Tony and Bruce had fallen asleep while resting their heads on each other, and everyone else was either holding hands with their brother or sister next to them or was looking out the window. Even Loki, the most talkative child there, was silent the whole way home, not even pointing out a raven – his favorite bird – that was perched on a tree outside the cemetery. By the time they were halfway home, Clint had stopped shaking but was still clinging onto Natasha's hand. They looked at each other once in a while and seemed thoroughly sorry for the other. Natasha was sorry for the boy's reaction and Clint was sorry that Natasha had only known their mother for three months before the shooting. Once the car rolled to a stop in front of the house, Steve began humming the little tune Sara had said fit them all. The heroic tune that made them all want to save something. Once Steve had started, Thor followed him, and Clint after him, until everyone was humming or singing it aloud. Even Phil, whose voice was still shaken, hummed along.

They all walked into the house together, most still holding hands, waiting for their father to unlock the door so they could all rest. Once the jingling keys had stopped and the door swung open, Phil stepped aside and allowed his kids to enter first. They all nodded at him in thanks as they stepped into the house. Steve and Natasha were still humming when everyone filed upstairs in a single-file line. Each child stemmed out of the line and turned to enter their own rooms. Thor and Loki first into theirs, then Bruce and Tony into their room, Clint and Steve, and finally Natasha into the single bedroom. Phil watched as they all shuffled into their rooms before he went into his own at the end of the hall, next to Loki and Thor's. He pulled off his jacket, feeling the heat from it, and kicked off his shoes. He looked sullenly around his room until he became so agitated with himself that he left it to say good-night to each child, who would certainly be in their pajamas in the five or six minutes he had given them.

Phil stopped at Thor and Loki's room first, the two youngest, but the two that had been in the family the longest. Thor was six and Loki was four and a half, now, already grown up so big from when they had gotten them. He knocked lightly on the door before stepping in, and found Thor and Loki sharing the bottom bunk. Loki was clearly pretending to be asleep, perhaps avoiding the possibility that Phil might tell him to use his own bed, but Phil let him pretend. He kissed Thor and Loki on the foreheads, wished them good night, and left the room. As he closed the door silently behind him, he thought about how their mother had been the one to give kisses every night. Phil did love his kids, but he'd never spent as much time with them as she did. He did have work, after all. But it was nice, seeing them before he went to bed. And with that thought, he proceeded to Bruce and Tony's room.

The two trouble-making boys weren't in bed, though they seemed almost ready. Tony had a toothbrush hanging out of his mouth, and Bruce was taking his glasses off. At ten and eight, respectively, the boys were surprisingly mature for their ages, when they weren't screwing around. That very though accompanying him, Phil smiled and stepped into their room, but it took the boys a moment to recover and to smile back. The man hunched over and wrapped his arms around both of the boys, who seemed a little surprised. He kissed the tops of both their heads and straightened back up. No one said anything, although it was clear that they all wanted to. The visit ended with a round of good-nights and Bruce and Tony climbed into their beds as their father stepped out of the room.

Two down, two to go, Phil thought, sauntering across the hallway to Clint and Steve's room, the oldest pair with the biggest room. Phil knocked again before stepping in. Steve was sitting on the edge of his bed in his boxers and an old shirt, and Clint was up in his loft-bed, looking down at both of them. Both of the boys clambered out of their beds and didn't hesitate to give their dad a hug. They clearly shared the heartbreak that they knew Phil was suffering from. After finishing the hug, Coulson stepped out of their room and over to Natasha's, the only girl at seven years old.

She'd come all the way from Russia, the hardest child to adopt, but the last. Sara had been hell-bent on getting her to the house, swearing that she knew that Natasha had needed them. And so Coulson had put every dollar in from his job into getting the girl to the house, a process that took two years and quite a few fat stacks of one hundred dollar bills. But it was all worth it, he knew, to have a girl there safe and sound. Natasha had later confided in Sara some of the things that she had saved her from in Russia, and everyone was glad to have the young girl out of such a mess. In fact, Tasha was probably everyone's favorite child. She was helpful and sweet, always polite and usually honest. Truly a charming girl to be around. Phil certainly thought so, and smiled down at her when she opened her door.

"Good evening." She offered with a smile, smoothing out her nightgown. She looked like a porcelain doll. Phil knew her English still needed some work, so he just gathered the girl up in his arms and hugged her close. She certainly was a lucky one. She had only known Sara for three months, but Phil supposed that was enough for them to get close. Sara had known almost everything about Natasha. After telling his daughter good night, Phil sauntered back down the hall for the last time and collapsed heartily on his bed. From under his pillow, he withdrew a small, folded piece of paper. There was a lipstick kiss on it and a small note that said, 'Went to the bank, be home soon, love you all.' It was the last piece of communication intended for the family, Phil knew, and he was happy to have it hugging to his chest. Not only that, but he was surrounded by things that reminded him of the little things about her. The pillow that smelled of her perfume, the closet of hers that was full of beautiful clothes, and even the wall covered in photos and doodles the kids had given the two of them.

Needless to say, surrounded by all of that, Phil did not sleep well that night.

The alarms in the morning only woke a few inhabitants of the Coulson residence. Everyone else had been wide awake, their eyes unwilling to close even in the most comfortable of positions. Phil Coulson was one of the lucky ones that actually got a few hours' decent sleep, although getting up was a challenge for him. He literally rolled off his bed and stood up from the floor, still in his funeral attire. He changed into some work clothes, even though he wasn't going to the 'office' that day. Or that week. His boss had been just sympathetic enough for him to have a month and a half off or until he found someone to watch his kids while he worked. Whichever came first.

Once Phil had opened his door, he spotted Natasha in front of the stairs. They both stared at each other for a moment, as if surprised. Phil walked over to her and said good morning, but Natasha only smiled back. It stayed silent for a moment, and when Phil looked back down at his daughter, he was a little unnerved to find her staring at him with great focus.

"You didn't fall asleep until late," She began in a small voice, "but I got plenty of sleep. I'll take care of food, papa."

Phil paused for a moment as the biggest smile he'd ever managed spread on his face. She had never addressed him as a parent before. Not only that, but her heavy Russian accent and her unwillingness to say certain English words was comedic, if anything. But he didn't mention either of those things.

"Thank you, Tasha." Phil murmured, using the name Sara always had, and kissed the top of her head.

"It is not a problem. Go and wake up the others, papa."

Although it felt strange to be taking orders from his seven-year-old daughter, he did so anyway. Loki and Thor hadn't even fallen asleep, but were sitting up and talking the whole time. They immediately left the room after Phil and filed down the stairs to greet the sound of already-sizzling bacon. They seemed better, Phil thought, but he could only hope they could recover from such a loss. Bruce and Tony didn't even stir when their father entered, so he just left their lights on the the door open. The smells of breakfast would eventually waft upwards. Clint and Steve woke immediately from an obviously light sleep and got up sluggishly to wash up. With all that done, Phil stumbled back down the steps and was greeted with a sweet sight: Natasha was wearing an apron over her white sundress and was dishing out flower-shaped eggs and bacon slices to Loki, who was holding the plate over his head and bouncing up and down. It was almost as if nothing had ever happened. Only Thor seemed pensive in the morning after being awake all night. Phil made a mental note to be sure that he got a long nap later on. Ten minutes later, the other four kids joined the four downstairs and they all ate their breakfast, or the remainders of it, together. They talked through delicious mouthfuls and laughed at Phil's corny jokes about eggs, and laughed even harder when neither Thor nor Loki understood the puns.

"Okay, guys, no school today." Coulson said tiredly, his shoulders hanging forward. He caught Clint, Steve, and Bruce exchanging worried glances.

"But, dad, we wanted to go to school today," Bruce offered immediately in his enthusiastic tone, "We can take the bus!"

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, we're sure, pops." Steve said with a bright smile and crossed the kitchen to pack three lunches with Natasha's help.

Coulson pursed his lips and half-smiled with a bit of pride, "Well, okay, but call me if you need anything."

"We know dad!" Bruce said and rolled his eyes, sticking his tongue out. Phil only smiled back at him until the curly-haired boy started patting his dad's nose. "You sure do worry a lot."

"That's because you're all worth worrying about." Coulson replied happily, getting up to scrub at the plates. He caught a glimpse of Natasha rolling her eyes and smiling.

"Well, I didn't realize we were having corny speeches for breakfast," Tony butted in, "I'll be in the garage. If Jarvis comes over, tell him where I'm at!"

Hours passed after Tony and Jarvis had met up and gotten tired of talking and working together on circuit boards, so everyone was simply laying about the house. Phil was reading a book, but everyone else seemed quite discontent. It finally took Loki clinging to his leg and whining for him to break down.

"Well, what do you want to do, then?"

"It's going to rain, so we can't go outside!" Loki huffed.

"Then...Then we should build forts!" Thor interjected happily, clapping his hands together once.

Phil thought about it for a moment a shrugged. "Why not?" He rolled his sleeves up and began pushing the tall dining room chairs into the family room, where Loki had gathered blankets, pillows, and sheets. They all arranged the chairs and draped sheets over to create 'walls' and 'ceilings' for the forts. The blankets were thrown over that for 'protection from the rain', as Loki assured. Natasha later joined them, bringing Tony with her, and the two kids built onto the large fort the other three had started. Soon, they had a massive fortress that took up nearly half the carpeted area of their living room. Tony had taken it upon himself to light up the place with a few lava lamps, "They're extremely cool!", and a couple paper lanterns with tea lights in them. Then everyone laid down on their stomachs, and Phil started talking about how he had gotten his job, because Loki had asked.

"Then how did you meet mom?"

Everyone went silent for a moment.

"We met while I was supposed to be working, actually," Coulson began, half-smiling, "She was two seats away from the target. I needed to hear what was being said, so I took a seat with her to hear better. We started talking and...Well, let's just say that I didn't report back with any worthwhile information other than some digits."

"Digits?" Loki asked curiously.

"Her phone number, dingus," Tony snapped from across the room and rolled his eyes, "You called her, right?"

"Of course I did. I almost lost my job for her – she'd better have been worth it. And...She was."

Phil remembered the whole night they spent at a small restaurant near the beach, how they walked in the sand for a while, how Sara had almost gotten hit by a car, even the small details, like the way her eyes were crystalline in the moonlight. All the kids watched Phil in his daze. Someone was about to ask another question when Steve, Bruce, and Clint came running in from the front door.

"Hey, dad, we're home! School was great!" Steve said happily before surveying the living room. "Can we join in?"

"Of course. You'll have to build your own forts, though."

And so Bruce made a small barricade with couch cushions, Steve used the leftover chairs and blankets, and Clint simply made a nest out of all the pillows. Natasha jumped up and strolled into the kitchen. Everyone stared at the doorway for a moment until they heard the clattering of pots and pans and the starting noise of the burners. Phil fully trusted his daughter to cook, and was even more at ease when Clint jumped out of his little nest to join her. The remainders of the kids told stories of dragons and knights, going around the room in a circle and adding onto the story. Loki was just talking about moose-like dragons attacking the prince when Tasha and Clint arrived carrying platters of grilled cheese sandwiches. The rest of the evening was spent that way, making up fictitious stories and telling real ones, and even a few more memories of Sara. The pain of her loss had begun the long healing process, and somehow Phil knew that the family would survive without her, as much as they would miss her.