Title: Dance Away
Fandom: RHPS
Characters/Pairing: Riff/Magenta, mentioning others
Prompt: 096. Writer's choice - Dance
Word Count: 729

Disclaimer: Richard O'Brien is god. Not me.

"I want a toy." Those were his exact words, complete with a pout that would have made his mother immensely proud.

Riff Raff didn't dare protest, and ended up spending the next few nights browsing (inconspicuously, he hoped) the nightclubs of nearby towns. It was tiring work, to say the least, and by the fifth night he had more or less despaired at finding anyone suitable. People were also starting to wonder about him, and he knew he wouldn't be able to continue his search indefinitely, but he didn't dare go back empty-handed.

He hadn't stood out overmuch among the daylight crowd, or so he had thought, but this group that frequented the sleazier nightclubs (and they did get progressively worse as the nights wore on) was by no means your standard bunch of Earthlings.

The air in the bar was thick with smoke and the oppressive heat of too many people crammed into one small space. He sipped cautiously at the sickeningly sweet drink in front of him, undid the first few buttons on his shirt, and struggled in vain against the pull of sleep that was gradually dragging his head toward the cool metal tabletop. Another long night.

The strobe lights flickered a bit overenthusiastically in anticipation of the next bit of scantily-clad 'entertainment', and Riff Raff closed his eyes, but there was nothing he could do about the insistant shrillness of this girl's voice, and the clatter of her dancing feet.

He remembered the first time he had seen his sister dance, all those years ago.

They had both been serving in the Palace, firmly beneath the Queen's (she hadn't been old then) greasy thumb. There had been a feast of some sort, and Riff Raff had been serving the guests, assuming that his sister was otherwise occupied, when suddenly she had appeared before him, face tight with irritation and something that was almost fear.

"What's wrong?" he asked, a little too sharply. If the nobles had been hassling her again...

She dipped her head and whispered, "The Queen wishes us to entertain her...now. Both of us." Later he would learn the reason for this odd request, but at the moment he had no choice but to obey. They made their way up toward where the Queen was reclined on a silken couch the same red as her rouged and powdered face, and bowed almost automatically.

"You asked for us, your highness?"

There was no audible reply, just a nod and a vague gesture toward the low platform off to the left of the Queen's throne. They crossed to it, and a motley group of court musicians began to laborously pluck out a waltz of sorts. Magenta threw her head back in a cascade of pride and red curls, and began to sway. Riff realized a second or so later that he would be expected to dance with her, for no one else had stepped forward, and the waltz specifically called for two dancers. He felt himself blush--she was, after all, his sister.

But, as he continued to watch her, a blur of black silk and creamy skin, he decided that it wouldn't be so terrible after all. And reaching for her, with the music beginning to speed up behind them, and her so light and beautiful in his arms, he came to the definite conclusion that his sister was...

But no, he couldn't think that. She was just that, his sister. Nothing more.

The music and tapping in the club had died down, and Riff came to with a start; he had more than likely been gazing vacantly off into space for most of the girl's act. Not that many of club's occupants would notice, mind you; they were all too busy waiting to see if the girl would reveal her talent in areas other than singing.

He watched her, as the music wound down, finishing her dance, and he made his decision. Taking another swig of the drink to fortify himself, he made his way back to the castle.

He made his report to Frank, who seemed pleased enough, and set off a short while later with something vaguely resembling a predatory look in his eyes.

Riff ignored him, and instead climbed the stairs toward his sister's room. Leaning in the doorway, he murmured to her sleeping form, "Do you remember our dance?"

-fin-