Natasha has made a career and kept herself alive for a very long time by knowing how to read people. Not just the obvious, not even just the subtle cues, but the micro-expressions, the involuntary tremors, the truth in what people don't do as much as what they allow. Dean wants this. He want to give over to someone he can trust, and he wants to be able to trust her. It's written all over the way he sighs and the twitch of his body wanting to follow her hand in his hair as it pulls away.

Well, that deserves something more. She kneels behind him and leans forward to smell the back of his bent neck, her loose hair brushing his bare skin. Her fingers slip under what's left of his shirt, pulling the material down to his wrists, twisting and knotting it efficiently. "If you strain against these knots, they will come undone. If they come undone, this is finished. Do you understand?"