1199/Heart to Heart

Heart to Heart
Date of Scene:	29 June 2017
Location:	A motel just outside NYC.
Synopsis:	Melinda May comes bearing gifts...and demands for one Sam Winchester.
Cast of Characters:	Sam Winchester, Melinda May

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Sam Winchester has posed:
Sam Winchester is doing something novel these days...staying at a Motel under his own name. Tonight he's actually there. Not on a hunt. Not out getting various bits himself broken. Not doing anything in particular, really, except sitting in the back of the hotel bar with a beer, watching a game on TV that he doesn't particularly care about. He just didn't much care to sit alone in his /room/ either. And he hadn't really called anyone...he's brooding, and he's had a whole year to establish a pattern of brooding alone.

Wearing an olive green canvas jacket and a blue plaid shirt with olive highlights, jeans, and his normal construction boots, he looks like any drifter in a bar that's basically abandoned save for the lone employee. He's let his scruff grow back a bit. He's looking better. Bruises have faded. The arm's still, of course, in a cast...the process takes 5 weeks even with SHIELD's superior medical technology.

All of this has the impact of making him remarkably easy to find for once.

Melinda May has posed:
Of course, May cheats. So her ability to track Sam down should not be all that surprising. But, in deference to his and his brother's desires to remain at least mostly autonomous, she actually does him the courtesy of sending a text before showing up and even asks if it's okay to meeet and talk.

She has more than a few reasons for tracking the young man down, and hopefully will get the chance to talk about at least one or two of those before the kid chooses to rabbit again. Or, if Dean's there as well, before the elder brother gets his knickers in a twist.

Sam Winchester has posed:
Sam had hesitated before answering the text.

But the truth is, he likes May. She's been nothing but kind to him. And he is aware, on some level, that she probably didn't understand the full consequences of inviting herself to have a big Dose o' Winchester when she tried to sign them on as consultants. He knows he's not even easy, and Dean is all but impossible. Yet she keeps trying to help them all the same.

He texts back with his location and a promise to buy her a beer. It's the least he can do. And he is, in fact, alone. Dean, these days, actually has an apartment, but Sam? Sam can't seem to shake the Motel lifestyle. He does have a kitchenette though, and put down a whole month, so that's some sort of permanence, right?

Melinda May has posed:
May arrives carrying a duffel bag, almost as if she's planning to book a room here herself. That's not true, of course, but it seems that way. Sam is more than obvious in the otherwise empty bar, and she walks over to plunk the bag in one chair at his table and claim another for herself.

"Thanks for agreeing to see me," she starts. "I take it you have an evening off?" Idle chit chat, mostly to make sure the bartender isn't bothering to eavesdrop, though she's pretty sure the game is more interesting at the moment.

Sam Winchester has posed:
The bartender lets out a cheer as a ball clears a basket, back to both of them.

"Yeah," Sam answers. "I probably should go looking for a case but." He pushes a cold one across the table to her, having already ordered it for her. Simply figuring she'd want to stay under the radar. "I hope that brand's okay," he says apologetically. "It's just what I'm drinking." Which is just sort of a middle of the road beer in every way: in quality, in body, just in every single way. The world's most generic beer flavored beer, cheap and fulfilling to people who like a certain thing, who look for familiarity when they have no roots.

"What's up?"

Melinda May has posed:
May takes a sip of the beer and sets it aside, as if only doing so for the sake of appearances. It is ... decidedly average. "First off, I brought something that might interest you." She nods to the bag, but instead of revealing its contents, she sheds her own oddly heavy for June jacket. She does so caerfully, as if mindful of interior pockets, then drapes it on the back of the chair closer to Sam.

"I think I mentioned SHIELD's concealed armor to you at some point, right?"

Sam Winchester has posed:
"Yeah," Sam says, perking up. He can't help himself. SHIELD...has good toys.

And if he's aware the toys are an enticement for him to come deeper into the house, so to speak, well...it wouldn't be bait if it wasn't really good bait. And it's /really/ good bait. He sort of hasn't volunteered to give up that ICER. He's very much in love with that thing. Not great for all supernatural creatures, but...great for a wide variety of the situations he encounters, as proved by the encounter where May shoved it into his broad, moosey hands.

Melinda May has posed:
Don't think May didn't notice that Sam latched into that ICER and didn't give it back. She did return her Beretta to him after everything was said and done, at least. Of course, what's going to happen when it runs out of rounds? Its equivalent of a clip is very much like a regular pistol in that it only holds so many.

Nodding toward the jacket she just shed, she offers Sam a show of trust that not even most SHIELD agents have ever been afforded. "Take a look." And to keep herself from trying to snag her jacket back jealously, she picks up her beer in both hands as if it were a cup of hot cocoa and takes another sip.

Don't make her regret this.

Sam Winchester has posed:
...

Begging.

Begging is going to happen.

Or puppy eyes. Sam has a ferocious set of those.

He picks it up and turns it over in his hands, frowning. "This is lighter than my jacket," he says in wonder. He's not a science nerd, to start shooting off over what materials it might be. He has no idea. He in fact looks for spellwork first and foremost, cause that's his paradigm. He passes it carefully back to her after this examination, impressed, trusting it does what she says it can do, and very mindful of her jealousy.

He flashes a smile. "You know, all those years of posing as 'Agent Insert Rockstar Here'...don't think I haven't wondered what it might be like to just go right ahead and inquire about being a real Agent. It seems like the best of all worlds for me. Getting to actually my education at Stanford, continuing the only work I've ever known, legitimacy, stability, the benefits, the toys..."

He shakes his head with a smile. "Still feel a little skittish about the government thing but...I gotta admit, May, you make it all look pretty idyllic."

Melinda May has posed:
"I'll be honest, it's not all rainbows and kittens. But if there's one thing SHIELD never skimps on, it's making sure that their most important assts -- their people -- are as safe as possible when they go out and face off against the evils of the world." She then nods to the duffel. "I had Lewis guess at your and your brother's sizes, so I hope they fit."

Sam Winchester has posed:
Sam stares at her. "No way."

He's like a kid on Christmas morning, whipping off the canvas jacket to dive in. He finds the bigger one easily, running his fingers along the almost-leather that looks like leather. He dives in to exploring all the little weapons pockets. He gives her this bright, incredulous smile, his hazel eyes shining with a surprised inner light. "May, I-- I mean-- I don't know what to say. You-- I mean we haven't exactly been easy to-- I mean are you sure?"

He's putting it on. As he asks. He looks very much like a person who really hasn't gotten many presents all his life. And this is an awfully big one. Even if he'd been drowning in them all his life, it would be a big one.

Melinda May has posed:
May watches with amusement, though only the faintest hint of a smile makes it to her face. "I'm sure. You two have a very dangerous job, and no offense to cotton, but it was never designed to fend off bullets, blades, and basilisks." She knows that Dean is very likely to pshaw the thing, and considering what she guessed about that oversized jacket she'd seen him wearing, he won't want to part with a garment that holds that much value to him. So his version isn't a jacket like Sam's. It's instead made to look and feel like one of those ever-present plaid shirts. Not quite as protective, and no storage whatsoever, but hopefully he'll be mroe likely to wear that. Especially if Sam says that Darcy picked it out.

She gestures into the bag. "There are also a few extra clips for you in there." Yup, for the ICER that didn't get returned. "Though you might have to come in to R&D if you want to clean the thing. It's... not built like your Beretta."

Sam Winchester has posed:
"I'll come in so they can teach me. I suppose I should have given it back but...the ability to take someone down non-lethally without moving into close combat...that's--hard to give up." Sam smiles sheepishly at her.

"Smart move with Dean, by the way," he adds, nodding to the shirts.

He sobers and says, "I'm sorry, May. I know we can both be kind of a pain to deal with. I don't know if you really guessed what you were signing on for when you thought to-- " He just sort of waves his hands helplessly at all of this, even as he zips up the jacket comfortably.

Melinda May has posed:
May pushes the mostly full beer away. "Oh, I'd already guessed. But sometimes people are as good as they are because they have equal amounts of flaws." Heaven knows, May herself isn't immune to that. "If SHIELD couldn't work with that, there would be no SHIELD."

Okay, on to the next topic, and Sam is likely not going to like this one. "You want to tell me what's going on with Dean?" When someone has nearly Banner levels of anger issues, May notices.

Sam Winchester has posed:
Sam leans back and frowns faintly, peeling the label off his beer with a nail. "He's going through a lot right now," he says slowly. "And I mean. We were separated for a year." He clears his throat a little bit. "So I don't know entirely. I've been a little afraid to talk to him about it. I don't want to make whatever it is worse, you know? And Dean-- he's not exactly a big fan of talking to begin with."

The bottle is nearly empty, but he keeps playing with it rather than ordering another one. "He usually works out that kind of stuff in time, on his own. But...we were always a unit, you know? And we haven't been, not the way we used to be. And now there are all these other people involved in our lives. It's an adjustment."

Melinda May has posed:
Melinda May nods slowly. "I get that all this," a casual wave of her hand indicates the jacket, the duffel, all of it, "is unusual for you, but what I saw the other day was a lot more than 'stuff'. If you and he can't work whatever it is out, I worry he's going to be a danger to not just himself, but everyone around him." She doesn't say it herself, but Sam's mentioned it before. Dean has a girlfriend now, and anger issues left un-dealt with almost invariably follow a person home.

"I know he doesn't trust me", WOW, understatement, "so I'm not going to approach him about this. But, I want you to know so you can tell him if he'll listen, SHIELD has confidential resources for this exact kind of situation." Subtle speak for the Psych portion of Medical, as well as a handful of properly vetted outside practitioners.

Sam Winchester has posed:
Sam gives a soundless laugh. "He'll /deck/ me if I try to tell him that, May," Sam says, but with a sort of good-natured fondness. "Seriously, you will never get Dean in to see a...a.../shrink/. It's just not going to happen."

His features cloud. "I'm going to try to talk to him. Just...he's just been through a lot. And his girlfriend can handle herself. He'd also never, ever hurt her if that's what you're worried about. I can't even conceive of it. And when it's time to work you'll never meet anyone more focused. He can do his job, I promise. He won't get anyone killed."

Melinda May has posed:
May looks at Sam for a long moment, then nods. "I'm going to have to hold you to that." Making one brother his brother's keeper. A task the elder had taken upon himself years ago, by the looks of things. "While I can trust that what you say is true, there are people in WAND and in SHIELD that won't see things as readily." And what people don't understand, they typically don't respect.

"On a similar vein, I'm going to harp at you again about Medical."

Sam Winchester has posed:
"Medical? Why?" Sam asks, blinking at her.

If he's disturbed by taking on the role of brother's keeper, he shows no sign. Probably because...he thinks that's his role already. They both do. And if he's not entirely comfortable getting into the family history that explains their rabid protectiveness and steadfast loyalty over one another, well...he /is/ intent on watching out for Dean, and he feels pretty confident in what he has to say about that matter.

But Medical? Medical baffles him.

Melinda May has posed:
"If I get another report about you showing up with days' old injuries, I'll concuss your brain myself." For all of her threateningly serious words, her expression and delivery are still as Vulcan-level as always. "I don't care if you give yourself a black eye walking into a doorframe, you get hurt, you go to Medical. Am I making myself clear?"

Sam Winchester has posed:
Sam tilts his head at her. "I mean...sure...but...are you sure? Because like...I thought...if I didn't get hurt doing something specifically /for/ SHIELD that it seemed a little unfair to come in and use the facilities. I'm happy to do it, it's a lot less of a pain for me, but...I was just...trying to be fair." And if his perception of 'fair' is a little warped it's only because everything about his life has been very warped. "Even if I just have a cold?" He asks, incredulously, uncertainly. Even after being given a passle of new things, he's not sure.

Melinda May has posed:
May looks at Sam flatly. "Especially if it's a cold. I'm not kidding here. There's no 'fair' or 'not fair' about it. It's a given that you're going to be going on extremely dangerous missions for WAND, and you can't be doing so if you're suffering from bruised ribs or allergies." She sits back in her chair.

"You can't have missed that there haven't been any new missions for you lately." She leans forward again, giving Sam a no-bull stare that he might have seen on the face of a bar owner somewhere in the midwest. "That's because you're on the light duty list until your ribs and arm are both completely healed."

Sam Winchester has posed:
"Oh. I thought you just didn't have anything," Sam admits, tilting his head at May. "I mean we went on that thing with the warlocks. We've always just walked it off."

He says that so earnestly, like he thinks that's totally normal. "I mean I can shoot with either hand. Are you sure you don't want to put me out there? You can't have /that/ many WAND agents. Or consultants, for that matter. Most people just don't want to think about this stuff."

Melinda May has posed:
Melinda May shakes her head no at that. "You're right, we don't. But we also don't want to risk you ending up permanently injured or worse because you were sent out with injuries." She tilts her head slightly. "Can you imagine Natasha doing what she does with a broken arm or sprained ankle?"

Sam Winchester has posed:
"I feel like Natasha could effortlessly kill six vampires with a sprained ankle, and a broken /face/," Sam replies dryly, "but...admittedly.../I/ can't. I'll...try to put myself on light duty too. I feel strange when I'm not hunting. I don't know what else to do with myself. And I'm just...always aware. I open up my browser, and there's all these events that tell me right away that terrible people are doing terrible things...and that I could stop them. Still...I'll take your advice to heart. Unless something literally shows up right in front of me, I will wait till I'm healed. Promise."