( Dean's a brave man. He's seen a lot of horrifying stuff, he's lost count with the number of angels he's tangled with, he's gotten frisky with Death (admittedly, that guy still scares the crap out of him). He's gotten a little desensitized, a little hard to flap.
Despite that, it's his pure animal survival instinct that can't help but feel a brush of intimidation when the air around Lucifer goes as cold as his disposition. It's that same chill someone gets when they're standing at the top of a cliff looking down at the fall below — whether or not there are guardrails doesn't mean a damn thing to your subconscious.
Lucifer has the kind of vibe that makes the hair at the back of your neck stand up, and Dean's not immune to that prickling sensation either.
He muscles it down, though it takes a little more effort than it would with just about anyone or anything else. Hauls up his bravado, and uses it to force a small, humorless, sideways smile onto his face. )
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Despite that, it's his pure animal survival instinct that can't help but feel a brush of intimidation when the air around Lucifer goes as cold as his disposition. It's that same chill someone gets when they're standing at the top of a cliff looking down at the fall below — whether or not there are guardrails doesn't mean a damn thing to your subconscious.
Lucifer has the kind of vibe that makes the hair at the back of your neck stand up, and Dean's not immune to that prickling sensation either.
He muscles it down, though it takes a little more effort than it would with just about anyone or anything else. Hauls up his bravado, and uses it to force a small, humorless, sideways smile onto his face. )
I'll show you mine if you show me yours.
( As in, you first. )