A/N: I may or may not have been sugar high when I wrote this.
Disclaimer: If Richard O'Brien didn't own it, the whole RHPS would consist of this.
:::
'Don't you think he might have overdone it this time?'
Riff didn't raise his head, as he wiped his hands on his already bloodied shirt and continued wiping the freezer. After the little Eddie fiasco that had happened during the convention, it was always up to him and Magenta to clear Furter's messes. They had already moved the corpse on the lower floor, deciding that they'd tend to it later. Now all that was left was cleaning the freezer of the blood.
'I still think he might have gone without killing him. It crushed Columbia.'
'Magenta, dear,' Riff interrupted her monologue 'you think way too much.'
She laughed loudly and came from behind him, wrapping his arms around his neck.
'Just because I don't have your level of genius, my dear brother, doesn't mean I can't form a reasonable deduction, right?'
Riff smiled and continued wiping, trying to ignore the fact that she was still literally hanging on his back and might or might not just have started kissing the spot behind his ear. 'Actually, it does. It has always been very obvious who's gotten the smarts in the family.'
She pondered on his words for a moment, her hands moving to his waist.
'Which means that you have the looks.' He elaborated, obviously amused now. 'I can't say I complain.'
He turned around, completely given up on cleaning already. Magenta chuckled and gave him a light kiss on the lips. It was good to see her like this. Happy. Smiling. In a good mood. Riff understood her – their plan was working perfectly, all the puzzle pieces were falling into place.
'You know' she started playfully, eyes glinting in mischief 'I was quite surprised when you took me for a dance tonight. I didn't know you still had it in you.'
'Why, my dear Magenta,' he posed as being offended, but he couldn't hide the smile that creeped up on his lips and turned the corners of his mouth upward 'I am most offended by your statement.'
'Come on,' his sister said, sitting in his lap 'you haven't moved your bones around for quite a long time, old man.'
'Did you just call me old?'
'Well you are ol –'
Magenta couldn't finish, because suddenly her brother was on his feet, pulling her against him. He started humming a dance rhythm, she could hear it too in her head and she let him lead her. Riff tossed her into the air, mimicking a swing move and she laughed wholeheartedly, then decided to get it back at him by spinning behind him. But even that couldn't take her brother off-guard, he quickly spun with her, never even falling out from his rhythm and managed to catch her by the waist and lift her slightly into the air.
'Let me down, you nutcase!'
He laughed and settled her feet on the floor again, then brushed his sister into his arms.
'So who's the old man again?'
'Didn't know you were so touchy about the subject.' She tried to tease him but was silenced with a deep kiss. Magenta leaned into his touch, feeling his hands fumbling with her dress and realizing that her own were trying to get him rid of his shirt as fast as possible. Their bodies, still warm and trembling from the improvised dance, shivered against each other and as Magenta let heat explode into her head she thought that maybe they should do this more often.