
What don’t have what now

What don’t have what now
Bees don’t have lungs
you can’t just not have lungs
Evidently you can, provided you’re a bee

Crowley approached Aziraphale, holding a cherry cordial, the last remnant of the box he had just devoured.
“Angel?”
Aziraphale didn’t look up from his copy of “On the Revolution of the Heavenly Spheres.”
“Hmm?”
“I saved the last one for you.” He offered him the sweet, which Aziraphale ignored and turned a page in his book.
“Oh, how kind of you, but no thanks, dear. I don’t care for sweets.”
“Says the one who ate two eclairs at tea…”
Aziraphale finally looked up from his book and sighed. “Because it was tea.”
Crowley rolled his eyes.
“Besides,” Aziraphale continued, “those cherry cordials are sinful.”
A full-fledged smile was on Crowley’s face now and he carefully pulled the book out of his hands and straddled the angel’s lap.
Aziraphale licked his bottom lip and looked up at his tempter, who has holding the sweet gingerly with a forefinger and thumb.
He removed his dark glasses and willed them away along with Aziraphale’s readers.
“When have you,” he purred, “ever passed up anything sinful?”
Aziraphale gazed into Crowley’s beguiling, golden eyes and then glanced at the cordial, its chocolate melting onto the tips of his fingers. He smirked. “Get thee behind me…”
Crowley giggled. “Isn’t that what I did last night?”
Aziraphale’s cheeks flushed. “You depraved charmer.” He couldn’t hide his grin, though.
“You flatter me, angel.”
Crowley bit into the cordial and held the sweet in his mouth. He leaned into Aziraphale, who willingly opened his mouth and swallowed his kiss.
Tradition ist Bewahrung des Feuers und nicht Anbetung der Asche.
Tradition is preservation of fire and not worship of ashes.
Gustav Mahler (1860 – 1911), German conductor and composer