Warning: This chapter has intense fluff. Which I'm sure you don't mind, right? ;)

Richard O'Brien owns the characters, not my storyline...

Chapter Seven: Chocolate Pickles

It was night. Riff-Raff had finished his work in the lab, looking forward to seeing his sister for the first time since that morning. She was now almost five and a half months pregnant with their child and he was constantly worrying about her, hoping that everything was as it should be. As he promised, he injected her with the serum every day, hopeful that it would serve its purpose.

He climbed the stairs to the servant's room, where Magenta usually was at this time of night. She had been reading lately, to forget the troubles that lie ahead, though Riff-Raff. Despite trying to forget, though, they had been adjusting to the circumstances they'd been dealt fairly well. The occasional look from Frank was the worst they had gotten, and if he threatened a whipping, Riff-Raff took all of them for his sister, wanting to protect his girls, as he had begun to think of Magenta and their unborn daughter.

He opened the door, a smile prepared for his lovely sister. The room was empty. Immediately, dangerous thoughts ran through Riff's mind...Could Frank have done something?...Was there an accident? His eyes wide, he began to frantically search the room. When he had no luck, he ran downstairs, opening every door to every room, even the lab, where Frank had just finished pleasuring Ricky, formerly Randall, his newest creation.

As Riff entered the lab, he could hear the scene playing out behind the heavy curtains that laid in front of Frank's love den.

"Oh, Ricky," moaned Frank. "I knew, when I first saw you in that grave..."

Riff-Raff felt sick. It was almost as if Frank was copulating with corpses.

A loud grunt could be heard, followed by laughter. Riff-Raff decided this was as good a time as any.

He opened the curtain. Frank was lying on the bed, a satisfied look on his face and a glass of champagne in his hand. Ricky was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking tired.

"...Master?" asked Riff-Raff.

Frank grunted in annoyance. "Your voyeuristic tendencies will no doubt cause you your death one of these days. Now what do you want, handyman?" he asked, emphasizing the last word, knowing that was the thing Riff-Raff hated to be called most. He deserved to be called a doctor, not a handyman, since he was the man behind every one of Frank's creations, but Frank's worst fear was that this would become public. So, handyman he became.

Riff-Raff cleared his throat. "Have you seen Magenta?"

Frank chuckled. "What? Have you lost her?"

Riff-Raff began to get angry. "No, Furter, I haven't lost her."

Frank glared. "Master."

"Furter," said Riff-Raff defiantly.

"You WILL call me 'master'!" shouted Frank. "Is that clear?"

"Only if you tell me what you've done with her," mumbled Riff-Raff.

Frank crossed his arms and mockingly put a hand to his ear. "What was that? Did I hear, 'Yes, master'?"

Riff-Raff sighed. "Yes, master." There was no time for this. He had to find Magenta.

Frank grinned. "Good. I'm glad to see that you're still under my submission. Voyeurs, especially voyeurs that do not comply, get punished." He glared into Riff-Raff's eyes. "You wouldn't want your dear sister to fall, accidentally, that is, down the elevator shaft, now would you?"

Riff-Raff, not sure what to say, just glared stonily at Frank and left, frightful to see what laid at the bottom of the elevator shaft. He ran and looked, saw nothing, and sighed in relief. Hearing dark laughter, he turned around and saw Frank staring at him, looking amused.

Not wanting to deal with Frank's mind games any longer, Riff-Raff began once again his desperate search for Magenta. As he looked down the servant's hallway for what seemed like the twentieth time, he bumped into Columbia, who had an amused look on her face, as if she had been laughing.

"What?" he asked, glaring. "Do you think this is funny, too?"

Columbia looked confused. "What's funny, Riff?"

Riff-Raff sighed, a sad, defeated look on his face. "I've been looking for her for hours."

Columbia looked surprised, and then laughed, causing Riff-Raff to get even angrier.

"See?" he said. "Now it's funny. It was absolutely hysterical to Furter..."

"No, no, not that!" said Columbia through her giggles. "Did you even look in the kitchen?"

Riff-Raff's eyes went wide. "Why would she be there at such an hour?"

Columbia grinned. "Go see for yourself."

Riff-Raff ran to the kitchen, desperate to know if his sister was well. He threw open the door, and gasped at what he saw.

"Riff-Raff!" Magenta gasped, looking as if she had been caught in the act. The kitchen looked as if it had been ransacked, most everything on the floor. In front of her was an open jar of pickles and a bowl of melted chocolate.

Riff-Raff sighed in relief. "I have been looking for you for hours!"

Magenta stood up slowly, slightly impaired by her ever-evident bump that was constantly growing. "Oh, Riff...I didn't mean to worry you." She embraced him, her hands sticky with pickle juice and chocolate.

RIff-Raff pulled away, wiping chocolate off of his jacket. He took a good survey of the room, his mouth hanging open. "What have you been doing in here?!" he asked, alarmed.

Magenta just laughed, wiping her hands on her dress. "Well, I was absolutely starving, and I had wanted chocolate, but the pickles were there too..."

Riff-Raff looked at the table, suddenly feeling sick. "You're dipping pickles in chocolate!"

Magenta looked hurt. "What's so strange about that?"

Riff-Raff almost laughed. "It must not taste very good."

Magenta's eyes filled with tears. "You think I'm overeating, don't you?!"

Riff sighed, dreading another one of her crying spells. "No, no, darling, I just don't think that..." he shook his head, still perplexed. "Why the bloody hell would you eat chocolate pickles?"

Magenta sighed, wiping her face with a napkin. "I don't understand, either. I suppose she wanted it," she said, pointing to her stomach.

Riff eased Magenta down to one of the wooden chairs and sat next to her, one hand on her shoulders and the other protectively on her belly.

Magenta smiled, placing her hand on top of Riff-Raff's. "She's been kicking today," she said, surprised that the baby kicked again just as she had said it.

Riff-Raff smiled. He had felt it too. "That's obvious," he said. The two laughed, looking lovingly at the bump as if it was already their child.

"What should we name her?" asked Magenta.

Riff-Raff wasn't sure. "I don't know...maybe Ruby, after mother?"

Magenta shook her head. "She wanted us dead, don't you remember? She made our childhood a living hell, that revolting, detestable..." She was quieted by another kick and sighed. "I suppose we'll know when we see her."

Riff-Raff nodded. "I suppose you're right."

Suddenly, Frank threw open the door to the kitchen. He took one look and said "I don't want to know." He walked away, leaving Magenta and Riff-Raff in a fit of laughter.

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