Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

One may wonder why the angel Michael would come down to Earth. One may wonder why the Archangel, the warrior of Heaven, would stay on earth. Over the many millennia that Michael had existed, he had frequently visited Earth. It became one of his most important jobs: to come to aid humanity in times of need. When Michael came to Earth, it was always for brief periods of time. This isn’t about just any time the Archangel came to Earth though. This is about the time he decided to stay.

The first time he chose to stay, it was because humanity needed him to stay. During World War Two, he heard the prayers of need. He heard humanity as a whole suffering. They needed a figurehead, a warrior, a hero. They needed hope. Michael chose to stay for the war, not just for a battle. He brought his best warrior, his right hand man. He watched his best friend fall. The first time he chose to stay, it was because humanity needed him to stay.

The second time he chose to stay, it was take the third option. As he could see it at the time, he had three options. The first option was to abandon humanity to whatever fate they had in store for themselves and return to Heaven. Self-preservation would make this the best option, and not even God himself would fault him for this option. The second option was to return to the most amazing human Michael had ever met in all of time, a human the Archangel found himself in love with. This option was appealing. He had promised her a dance and the Archangel did not like to break promises. The third option was to crash the ship, save countless lives and leave his own life up to fate. The Archangel Michael was a good soldier. He loved humanity. The second time he chose to stay, it was to take the third option.

The third time he chose to stay, it was for himself. After waking up nearly seventy years after he took the third option, he had a choice to make. He could return to Heaven, or he could stay and live amongst humanity. He found humanity constantly found ways to get themselves into trouble. Perhaps Earth needed him more than Heaven did. Perhaps he needed humanity too. At first, he chose to stay to protect humanity from aliens, from the rest of God’s limitless creation that they had just only been exposed to. Then he chose to stay another day, another week, another month. A month slid into two and then three and Michael found himself enjoying the new way he found himself able to help humanity with his friends. Things weren’t as straightforward as they used to be and Michael found that telling the difference between right and wrong was easier on the ground than it was up in Heaven. The third time he chose to stay, it was for himself.

When humanity needed him to stay, he was Michael the Archangel in disguise. When he took the third option, he was two people. He was Michael the Archangel, defending humanity. He was also Captain America, choosing to put the safety of many over his own safety or wishes. When he chose to stay for himself, he thought that perhaps he could be someone other than an Archangel or a war hero. When he chose to stay for himself, he was Steve Rogers.

~

Steve stood looking in the mirror, his wings unfurled. His eyes wandered over his own human manifestation. There were a few scars, none of them human inflicted of course. Some stretched all the way back to the beginning of time, like the slash on Steve’s shoulder where Lucifer struck him before he fell. Then there were the ones he had incurred over the last century: the two strikes over where a human’s heart beats. One from when he watched Bucky, his best friend for as far back as he could remember, fell in battle. The other from when he chose to save humanity at the cost of hurting Peggy. Steve supposed he was lucky, in all the time he had been alive he had only truly loved and lost twice.

Besides, he had millennia spent fighting beside Bucky. Then there was Peggy…Peggy had hurt more than he expected it. When a life was counted in centuries or millennia rather than months and years, one human life seemed so fleeting. The few years that Steve knew Peggy was like a blink of an eye to him, but he cherished each moment.

“Are you ready to go yet, dinosaur? Or do you need a few more hours to stare off into the distance and brood?” The voice came from behind him. Steve snapped out of his thoughts, not even needing to turn around to identify the sarcastic, female voice. He reached over and grabbed the shirt hanging on a hook next to the mirror, pulling it over his head and turning around.

“Who are you calling dinosaur, fossil?” He responded with a sheepish smile.

The redhead rolled her eyes. “You beat me in the age category by several thousand centuries, Steve. You don’t get to call me old.”

He gave her a once over, “You look like you’re ready to go out for the night. I thought we were going food shopping.”

“Well, actually, we’re about ten minutes late to meet up with Sam and Clint.”

Steve groaned, shaking his head. “I knew it! We’re going out and you’re once again going to try to set me up with some random person.”

Natasha smiled, giving him her best and most innocent look. Her tone was sugar sweet. “Now why would I do that?” If Steve couldn’t see through her glamour to her red eyes, he might actually have fallen for it. Then there was also all the past evidence to consider. Natasha had made it her mission to get him laid, despite all his protests.

Steve had long since learned that, in this particular situation, resistance was futile, so he allowed to be dragged out to a nearby bar with only minimal sarcastic commentary. When they arrived he managed to get the drop on Sam. He snuck up behind Sam, using his sternest and most commanding tone as he barked, “Samael.” Much to Steve’s satisfaction, Sam dropped his drink and stumbled off the barstool. He whirled around, snapping to attention. Clint almost fell off his barstool from laughing so hard and Natasha seemed to be quite entertained as well. Sam seemed much less amused, but the prank certainly cheered Steve up.

Sliding onto the barstool to Sam’s left as the other man sat back down, he offered his apologies and waved down the bartender to get himself a drink. It took some effort, but even Archangels felt the effects of human liquor eventually.

“So not cool, Steve, I thought you were Metatron or Gabriel coming to yell at me.”

“What can I do to make it up to you?”

Sam looked down at his spilled drink mournfully. “You can start by paying for my next few drinks. That might do it.”

Steve was more than happy to do so, once again waving over the bartender and letting Sam order. “Honestly though, you should have picked a human name that wasn’t so close to your true name. You wouldn’t get teased as mercilessly about it.”

Sam groaned in response, taking a sip of his new drink. “Well, unlike you and Clint I didn’t pick my human name. Someone decided to just shorten my true name and it stuck. That isn’t my fault. Nothing I can do about it now.”

Glancing around, Steve noticed that Clint and Natasha had snuck off. Clint had been on a mission for the last few days and evidently the pair intended to make up for lost time. Steve swirled the drink in his glass, looking back to Sam. “You would think with the way those two go at it, sex is going out of style or something. Well, that or they think one of them is dying tomorrow. I don’t think they’ve really grasped the whole immortality thing.”

Sam chuckled. “Well, at least it probably means you’re safe from Natasha for the night. She is a little too preoccupied to try to hook you up with someone.”

“She just won’t leave me alone on this. She’s Hell incarnate.”

“Hey, that’s what you get for letting a demon on the team,” Sam shrugged.

“Speaking of literal demons, have you heard from Bruce recently?”

“Last I heard he was researching exorcisms and incantations in some Tibetan temple.”

Steve nodded thoughtfully. Bruce was his friend, so he genuinely hoped he fixed his whole demonic possession problem. Still, the Hulk was useful in a fight.

Sam was right in the end, and Steve made it through the whole night without any meddling from Natasha. It was still too much effort to even get buzzed, but Steve still found that he enjoyed going out drinking with his team. His team, his friends. These were the things that Steve found himself getting strangely used too. That and lazy Sunday mornings. Steve found those particularly surprising and enjoyable. It was the little things.

~

“Nat, this is ridiculous. I can’t find any affordable housing in all of Brooklyn,” Steve remarked bitterly as he scrolled through an apartment website.

Natasha laughed, pouring herself a shot and coming over to sit next to Steve at the island in the middle of the kitchen. “Why can’t you just continue to live here in Avengers Tower like the rest of us? Tony doesn’t mind. That or demand a stipend or something from your Heavenly overlords.”

He shook his head, looking between his plate of half eaten breakfast and her shot of vodka. He decided not to remark on the hour, knowing she would just tell him it is never too early to have alcohol. Steve sighed. “I want a place of my own, too. You and Clint have safe houses all over the city. I just want something small, a crappy studio apartment to call my own. It has to be somewhere close enough to get to the tower quickly.” Asking for money from Heaven was out of the question. They weren’t particularly happy about him staying down here as it was and most angels had a difficult time comprehending money anyway.

“Oh, I know!” she said, picking up Steve’s abandoned fork and helping herself to his uneaten food. “Hell’s Kitchen! It was destroyed during the Incident and I hear rent is dirt cheap these days. You know, before it really gets cleaned up.”

Steve just nodded in response, changing his search to focus on potential apartments in Hell’s Kitchen. The costs were much lower than anything he had seen in Brooklyn.

“I hear it’s a dangerous area these days, but that isn’t exactly something that the warrior Archangel has to really worry about, is it?” she mused, downing her shot and pouring herself another. After a moment of consideration, she put aside the shot glass and took a swig from the bottle instead.

Raising an eyebrow, Steve sighed and shook his head. He spotted one particularly promising apartment and jotted the number down on a spare paper napkin. “Ah yes, because a new neighborhood to clean up is exactly what I need.”

“Obviously,” she sniffed. “It’s not like you have enough on your plate as it is.”

Chapter Text

One may wonder how one of God’s most trusted and vigilant angels could possibly fall.

Over the years many angels have fallen for different reasons. Lucifer, of course, was the brightest star and fell because of pride. All those who followed Lucifer fell as well. Then, of course, there was the second angelic war. There were those angels who fell for procreating with humanity, for creating the Nephilim children.

The angel at the Eastern Gate of Eden didn’t sire a Nephilim child. He didn’t fall for pride, or for hatred of humanity like those who followed Lucifer. No, like all angels he was told to love humanity above all but God. In the end, one could say that the Eastern Gate angel fell because he loved humanity.

Of all of her immediate family Eve was the longest lived. She watched Adam die at the age of 930, but still found herself living for several more decades after that. She was a strong woman, hardy from long years of work and survival in the new world. Eve was a good matriarch, but found herself wearied with age. She passed the job of taking care of the people of the world onto her sons and daughters. She lived to see the first eight generations of mankind. When she saw the dawn of the first millennia of mankind, she retreated back to the gate of Eden and faced the angel at the Eastern Gate for first time in a thousand years.

“Angel of the Eastern Gate,” she greeted. Eve was old now, not the youthful woman untouched by work or age that the angel had known long ago. She approached him, leaning heavily on her walking stick, “I have come to ask you what I should not.”

The angel looked upon the mortal with sadness.  “If you must ask, then make your request.”

“I wish to see the Garden of Eden one more time before I die. Adam has been gone for seventy years now, though I do not know if you have any concept of time like I do now. I don’t want to linger there, I just want to see it,” she explained to him slowly, cautiously. The angel couldn’t help but think but to the carefree woman Eve used to be.

He paused to consider her request, his flaming sword held at his side in what he hoped was a nonthreatening manner. He had watched humanity grow from the Eastern Gate, but he had very little interaction with them. They still confused him a little, even if he found them endearing. He shook his head. “You know I can’t let you in Eve.”

Eve nodded solemnly. “Nevertheless, I’ll be back to ask again tomorrow. I think I’m coming towards the end of my life.”

Although humanity had the capacity to lie, he knew that Eve was not lying in anything she said to him. She did just want to see Eden one more time and there was nothing the angel wanted more than to grant her that.

Every day, Eve came to ask and every day the angel had to turn Eve away. It started with brief visits, something that broke up the days in a way that the rising and setting of the sun didn’t seem to. After a while, she began staying longer and talking with the Angel at the Eastern Gate. They sat together at the edge of Eden, talking about all that Eve had seen and done in her life.

Much to the angel’s alarm, he found himself looking forward to Eve’s visits. In a thousand years of guarding the gate, the angel had never felt lonely before. If he was feeling loneliness when she wasn’t around, he didn’t even have enough experience to identify the emotion.

Since this was before the angel had a good grasp on time, he couldn’t say whether they did this for months or years. Over that stretch of time, he became good friends with Eve. He found he enjoyed when he could make her laugh. Happiness made her look less weary. Every day Eve would ask the same question at the beginning of the day, get it out of the way. Every day the angel would have to deny her the one thing she wanted most.

“I think I’m reaching the end, old friend,” Eve said as she went to leave as dusk began to fall, “I don’t know how many more journeys up here I will be able to make.”

The angel tilted his head, a frown weighing on his otherwise flawless features. “Then perhaps you should make camp here.”

Eve nodded in response and when she came back the next day, it was with everything she would need to live out the last few days of her life on the edge of Eden.

“I really do think I am reaching the end now, angel,” Eve said as she sat at the edge of the fire she had made, cooking herself something to eat.

“I’m sorry.”

Eve looked up, a small smile on her face. She turned her gaze to the gate. “Don’t be sorry. I’ve decided this is close enough. Even if I never see Eden again, at least I made it to the edge. I can feel Paradise from here. It will have to be enough.”

“Are you afraid to die?” the angel asked in curiosity.

Shaking her head, she looked back to the angel again. “I’ve lived over a thousand years of this. I am ready to move on, no matter where that takes me.”

It was the next day when the angel could feel her life force growing weak.

“I don’t want you to go, Eve,” the angel admitted out loud.

“It’s my time.”

The angel sighed, “Then make your request.”

“I wish to see the Garden of Eden just one more time before I die. I don’t want to linger there, I just want to see it.”

“Then see it you shall,” the angel said, surprising even himself.

He lifted his sword and it blazed. The angel and Eve stood and watched the Eastern Gate of Eden swing open. Eve breathed as if she had only suddenly remembered how, taking a few tentative steps towards the garden and looking back to the angel to make sure it wasn’t some kind of trick.

“Do you need me to carry you?” the angel asked in concern as Eve wavered on her feet.

She shook her head. “I think I have one last journey left in me.” Eve took careful step, making it to the gate and pausing for a moment before taking the final step inside. Paradise lay before her and it was just as beautiful as she remembered it. Exhausted, she collapsed and the angel caught her.

“You know, angel,” Eve said, a true smile gracing her features, “you never have told me your name, no matter how many times I have asked. I will ask just one more favor: What is your name? I wish to thank the one who showed me paradise just one last time. The one who gave up his post to let me pass. The one who I have come to know as a friend.”

“Eve, I am the Angel at the Eastern Gate. I have no other name than Sentinel, and that seems inappropriate now. I’m sorry I have no name to give.”

“Would you like one?” Eve asked, her breathing becoming labored.

Just like many other things that Eve had brought up before, a name was something that the angel had never thought of before. He nodded solemnly, for once he did think of it he found he did truly want a name.

“How about Matthew? I always meant to name a child Matthew.”

“It’s a beautiful name, I don’t know if I deserve it.”

She smiled. “You do. Matthew, my gift from God. The one that was so kind to an old woman. The one that let me see Eden just once more.”

Eve died in the way that she did everything: with strength, grace and determination.

That was the last thing that the angel saw before he fell.

His oath was to watch, so in his fall they took his sight away. Never again could he break an oath to watch. The thing that Heaven didn’t understand was that, in breaking his oath to watch the gate, he kept his oath of loving humanity. The angel didn’t fall for pride. He didn’t fall for trying to play God. He didn’t follow Lucifer, nor did he father the monstrous Nephilim. No, the Angel at the Eastern Gate fell for breaking his oath. He fell because he let the woman back into the Garden. He fell because he loved humanity just a little too much.

When the Angel at the Eastern Gate watched, he was Sentinel. When the Angel at the Eastern Gate fell, his name was Matthew.

~

Matthew had a pretty steady routine at this point: wake up, go to work, eat, go home, go out to fight as Daredevil, go home, sleep for the minimum time required to function. Rinse, repeat…and repeat…and repeat.

Now that Fisk was off the streets, there was a power vacuum. Things were a little more manageable these days, but criminal activity was starting to pick up again.

He wandered into work a bit late sporting a pretty impressive black eye. Matthew received two knowing looks from Karen and Foggy.

Foggy had taken the Daredevil thing pretty hard. It was less concern for Matthew’s physical wellbeing but more concern for Matthew’s mental wellbeing. Still, after over 200 years of friendship he wasn’t exactly surprised by his friend’s vigilante activity. Now that it had been awhile since Foggy found out, the only thing Matthew really had to worry about was sarcastic commentary. Foggy just couldn’t quite move past the former angel dressing up as the devil to go out and fight crime.

Karen was…new. Matthew was happy for the new friend. In thousands of years, he couldn’t count himself as having many friends. Sure, he had to explain some things when he had showed up one night on her door step pretty seriously injured.

Then again, she had some explaining to do eventually as well. There was that time when someone broke into the office while the three of them were there working late. Before Matthew could jump into action, Foggy had been pushed behind his desk and there was gunfire. Three things were surprising about this situation.

1. Karen kept a loaded gun in her desk.
2. Karen could fire said gun with ruthless and unwavering efficiency.
3. Karen could walk away from two bullet wounds completely and totally unfazed.

While everyone was being honest with each other that night, Foggy decided to come clean about his own situation and Matthew explained the exact nature and source of his abilities. After that, everything went more smoothly. It was a relief to come into work with an injury from the night before and not have to lie about it to the two people he cared about.

The day went on as any other day might. They had one meeting with a new client, a relatively straight forward trial for another client and a stop at the police station to bribe a particularly good cop (thank goodness for Brett’s mother’s bad habits).

When Matthew made his way home, he didn’t notice the unfamiliar presence until he entered the building. He climbed the stairs, thinking about just how long the apartment across from his had been on the market. It was largely undesirable, big windows with yet another giant neon sign out the window. It also was much smaller than Matthew’s own apartment. Matthew knew for a fact that the kitchen sink and the shower head leaked. Still, apparently some lucky (and probably desperate) person had moved in. As he reached his floor, Matthew could hear steps coming towards the apartment door of the neighbor’s apartment. Matthew slowed his pace, hoping to run into his new neighbor.

As the door swung open, Matthew felt positively dizzy with the sudden presence. It was divine and positively intoxicating. Matthew had run into a several angels since his time on earth, but he had never met anyone this powerful since he left Heaven all those millennia ago. There was no mistaking it, this was an Archangel. In all of his fighting, in all of his romancing the Earth for millennia, Matthew had never felt fear. It would be a shame to start now. He took a few blind steps forward, bracing himself for either a fight or a very uncomfortable conversation.

Chapter Text

They both froze there, facing each other. Matthew got the distinct feeling of being sized up, of being studied. It’s been a long time since Matthew had held a sword, but he could almost feel the memory of the weight of a sword in his hand.

It was Matthew who finally broke the silence, voice as cold and steely as he could manage, “I don’t suppose we could each just go our separate ways and pretend that neither of us know the other exists, could we?”

Steve considered that for a moment before responding, “I suppose that depends. Do you plan to go out and corrupt or kill the innocent? I couldn’t exactly let that happen.”

Matthew shook his head, “That is never the goal.” He could feel the man’s divine sight turned on him, seeing through to his intentions.

The tension fell out of Steve’s shoulder’s as he began to relax, “No, no it isn’t. Please, relax a little. I’ve never seen a fallen have a panic attack before and I’d rather not start now.”

Trying to relax in the presence of someone who literally might be the most powerful celestial being on Earth wasn’t exactly easy, but Matthew managed. “I suppose if you were planning to smite me on the spot you would have done it already.”

“Here is the deal: I’ll be keeping an eye out for you and as long as you don’t get into trouble we won’t have any issues. Does that sound acceptable?” Steve asked, running his hand through his hair tiredly.

Matthew nodded in response, gesturing in the direction of his own door, “I think I can agree to those terms. If you don’t mind, I really would like to get into my own apartment.”

Steve moved out of the way, watching the other man as he walked past wearily. All Steve wanted was a quiet, out of the way apartment. How did he always manage to get himself into this sort of mess? Natasha would think this was all hilarious. Steve stood there for a moment before moving to walk back towards his own door.

Before the door closed behind Matthew, he heard the Archangel’s voice saying, “Wait.” He paused, turning back to the hallway.

“What do I call you?”

Matthew stood there for a moment, pausing in surprise before responding. “They call me Matthew. Matthew Murdock is the name I’ve been using most recently.”

“Steve,” the Archangel responded, “They call me Steve Rogers. Nice to meet you Matthew.”

“I suppose it was nice to meet you as well. You know, considering you didn’t smite me on the spot and all,” Matthew said, a begrudging smile forming on his lips, “Have a good night.”

“You as well,” Steve called, shutting his door. He sighed, leaning against it. Steve Rogers could only muster three thoughts after the conversation they had.

1. Matthew was the strangest fallen that he had ever met.
2. Steve had only ever heard of one blinded fallen and he couldn’t believe that this man was that former angel.
3. Steve was definitely not supposed to find a fallen attractive.

~

“Bless me father for I have sinned, it has been one week since my last confession…”

“Matthew,” Father Lantom greeted him, “I’ve told you before, but I’ll tell you once more: I am not really sure if I am capable of absolving your sins. That really isn’t my area of expertise.”

Matthew sighed, folding his hands together. “Priests have a direct line to heaven, to the angels of forgiveness and intercession that work directly under Gabriel himself.”

“How long ago did you fall, Matthew?”

“Millennia ago.”

“And you think talking to a priest now will help?”

“Well.” Matthew shrugged. “It certainly can’t hurt.”

It was easy to talk to Father Lantom about all of this. Matthew found it comforting, having someone who wasn’t another immortal being to discuss this with. When they finished confession, they moved to the rectory to have coffee together. Lantom found having philosophical and theological debates with a former angel to be quite enlightening and entertaining, so he usually persuaded Matthew to stay longer than just for mass and confession.

“I met an Archangel yesterday.”

Lantom blinked in surprise. He was in the middle of making espresso and felt the need to pause and look back at Matthew, raising an eyebrow. After a year of conversations with a fallen angel, it was almost hilarious that Matthew could still surprise him. “What does that mean for you and your…situation?”

“Probably nothing, he just happened to move into my apartment building.”

Father Lantom shook his head in disbelief. “An Archangel in Hell’s Kitchen. Of course.”

“Honestly he seemed rather benign for an Archangel. Most would have smote me on the spot. He just gave me a warning.”

Father Lantom handed Matthew a cappuccino. “You are rather lucky.”

“Perhaps.”

~

Steve spent the first few days moving into his apartment. Apparently the city felt the Avengers deserved a break since there was no dire emergency that demanded Steve’s presence. He hadn’t seen his mysterious neighbor since they first ran into each other (despite Steve’s attempts to keep an eye out for him). Either Matthew kept very strange hours or the fallen was actively avoiding him. Either way, he wasn’t quite sure how to feel about it.

Regardless of however crazy things were, Steve made an effort to go to church on Sundays whenever he got the chance. It wasn’t the same as Heaven, which he did have to admit he occasionally found himself missing, but it was a nice and relaxing place. With so many options in the city, Steve usually wandered into whatever random church was the closest. When he was in Brooklyn for a while before World War Two he had a particular church he loved and frequented, but since he woke up in the twentieth century he hadn’t found another church that he really loved in that way.

He wandered into the closest church to his apartment building. The church was small, one of the charming ones that were hidden away. He got to the church in between the morning and noon mass, finding the church pleasantly empty. Walking through, he studied the little statues on the wall for the different stations of the cross, pausing to stop and look at a stain glass window at the back of the church.

“That’s my favorite piece in the whole church,” a voice came from behind Steve.

Steve smiled, turning around. “It’s beautiful.”

The priest standing in front of him, blinking in surprise. “Oh no, not another one.”

Steve raised an eyebrow “Another one?”

“You’re an angel, aren’t you? What is it about my church and angels?”

Blinking in surprise, Steve ran a hand through his hair and smiled sheepishly. “Well, I have to admit, it’s been quite some time since I’ve met a saint.”

“A saint?”

Steve nodded. “Yeah, of course. I mean, only saints can see the wings and halo when an angel is in a human glamour. I assumed you knew since you mentioned meeting angels before.”

“I assure you, you must be mistaken. I’m just a simple priest trying to keep my tiny church afloat. I’m no saint.”

Laughing, Steve shook his head and looked back up at the stain glass window. “Most saints don’t think they are saints, Father. If they did, they probably wouldn’t be saints.”

“I’m Father Lantom,” the priest greeted, stepping closer to Steve and the window. “You know, the likeness is rather uncanny.”

Steve hummed in agreement, “My hair used to be longer like that. The nose is pretty far off base though. I suppose divine inspiration only goes so far when you don’t have a reference or model.”

Father Lantom sighed, “You know, a year ago if you someone told me Michael the Archangel would come to my church someday, I would have thought they were crazy. Here you are now and it’s just another Sunday. What can I do for you, Prince of the Heavenly Host? Or, is this just a social visit to your friendly neighborhood saint?”

“Neither,” Steve shrugged, “Just looking for a church to attend mass at. If you don’t mind, could you call me Steve? I’ve been trying to lie low.”

“That I can do. I actually need to go set up, mass starts in fifteen. The rectory has a wonderful espresso machine if you are looking for a good cappuccino after mass.”

Steve grinned. “I would like that.”

Father Lantom went to set up the altar as Steve lingered, studying the details of the stained glass window image of him. He always found human art rather fascinating, the Renaissance was an especially fun time to visit earth. Glancing one last time at the sword held high on the window, Steve found a seat in a pew at the back of the church and waited for mass to begin.

~

Many would assume that having an Archangel in your church while you were saying mass would make it a particularly special mass.

They would be wrong.

Mass was completely normal which, in a way, was a relief to Father Lantom. At least with Matthew he never had to worry about the fallen attending mass. No, Matthew visited him frequently to talk and say confession, but never to attend mass.

Now he had an Archangel to contend with. Lantom wondered briefly if this was all some sort of trial from God. Surely one man could only put up with so many biblical figures in his life.

After mass, Steve took up Lantom’s invitation for cappuccinos. When Steve told him that it was the best cappuccino he had drank in decades Lantom was fairly sure the Archangel was just being nice, but he still appreciated the compliment.

Steve was nothing like one would expect the Warrior Prince of Heaven to be like, but Lantom supposed he really shouldn’t be surprised. It wasn’t like Matthew was exactly what one expected a fallen angel to be like either. Still, Steve was gracious and well spoken, indulging Lantom in theological debates. Eventually, the conversation inevitably moved to what being an immortal warrior angel was even like.

“So, you can hear it every time someone prays?”

“Only when they pray directly to me, usually with the St. Michael the Archangel prayer. I mean, there has to be some real faith and intention behind it. Like, I probably won’t hear it when a kid is reciting it in Sunday school. I hear when someone prays to me and is in need. It’s like a tug, right here.” Steve touched his chest.

Lantom thought of just how frequently that must happen. “And do you answer the prayers?”

Steve nodded. “As much as I can. It doesn’t happen as much as it used to. For a while, it was all I did. Still, you probably wouldn’t be surprised by how many people find faith when they are in trouble. Religion isn’t exactly dying out, you know? It’s just a quieter thing now.”

There was a knock on the door, interrupting the conversation and making Lantom forget whatever he was planning to say in response. He called to the person, telling them to come in.

“Father, do you have a moment to…” Matthew trailed off, his eyes landing on Steve sitting in an armchair across from Lantom.

“Ah, Matthew, come in. I was just chatting with Steve. Here, I’ll get you a cappuccino. Come, sit down.” Lantom gestured to the armchair next to Steve’s, getting up and walking over to the espresso machine. It was so strange, seeing an Archangel and a fallen in the same room together.

Steve shifted, taking a sip from his cappuccino awkwardly. He cleared his throat. “I haven’t seen you around lately.”

Matthew shrugged. “I keep long hours at my firm.”

“Yes, Nelson and Murdock. Have you heard of the work they do, Steve? A real force for good in Hell’s Kitchen,” Lantom spoke up as he finished steaming the milk.

Turning to Matthew, Steve raised an eyebrow. “I can’t say I have.”

“They are defense lawyers, the best around. They even helped me when some big developer tried to buy the church out from under me to knock it down and turn the area into a mall or something. They got the church declared a historical landmark and everything.”

Matthew rubbed the back of his neck. “It was nothing, really. I just wanted to help.”

“Matthew, don’t be modest. You wouldn’t take a penny for all the work you put in.” Lantom handed Matthew the cappuccino, sitting back down across from him and Steve.

“Father, if Steve was going to smite me I’m sure he would have done it already. You don’t have to talk me up or anything.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Steve said, trying to keep a straight face. He failed miserably, ending up laughing instead. “Kidding, of course. Please though, go on. I know nothing about my newest neighbor.”

“Hell’s Kitchen would be in a lot of trouble if it wasn’t for people like him.” Lantom smiled looking at his watch. “Oh dear, look at the time. I, unfortunately, have to get to a meeting with the head of my religious education program. You boys enjoy the rest of your cappuccinos. Steve, it was a pleasure to meet you. Matthew, I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around.”

The tension between the two was practically palpable, Lantom couldn’t help but think as he hurried off to his next meeting. The two have more in common then they think they do, though. It will certainly be…interesting. They might actually even be good for each other… assuming they don’t raze the church first.