A/N: Just some old Riff/Magenta fluff, to compensate for the lack of stories from me recently.

Disclaimer: All is Richard O' Brien's.

Magenta stood outside on the porch, her cigarette already halfway finished, green eyes staring into the whiteness in front of her. Actually, it was so damn white it made her eyeballs burn into her skull and she had to look away.

Yes, it was snowing.

Yes, it was snowing on this petty planet, in this petty place and Magenta was fucking freezing.

She wasn't sure which country they were in right now – 'moving around a lot' was quite an understatement. But it was December, colder than anything she had experienced on Transsexual and the light piece of garment she was wearing certainly wasn't helping. She shivered a little and hugged her upper body, making a mental note to look for something warmer when back into the castle.

It's been a well seven years since they landed, just Frank, her brother and her. Seven very long years. At the start, Magenta had felt as if she was being dragged around like excess baggage, so she tried to compensate at least a bit by doing housework, cleaning up the old castle as much as she could and stay away from the prince's work in order not to be any trouble. When she had complained about that to Riff, he had held her close, his warm breath on his neck and whispered seven simple words into her ear.

I would never have left without you.

The thought of it was what gave her hope through every single day, as their experiments weren't being what one would call successful, Frank was getting more and more frustrated and a sadistic, torturous side was coming out, one that Magenta particularly disliked. Everything was fine if it had been a good day; no incidents whatsoever. But if something had gotten wrong, a chemical was mixed incorrectly or a lever wasn't pulled whenever it was supposed to, a rain of whiplashes and pain would heavily come down on her brother. Her heart would always skip at least ten beats when she heard their master yelling. Magenta shivered, maybe from the cold, maybe from the memory of trying to bandage Riff's back after one extremely bad day. She took another drag of her cigarette. She could handle it, for now. Her brother was beside her, even though both of them were sometimes miserable, in pain or plain tired from everything, they always had each other.

Magenta heard footsteps echoing behind her. She didn't turn around – the tapping of the feet was recognizable, it wasn't Frank's spruce walk, it was a rather quiet, discreet step, which would get closer to you before you even noticed. Magenta still kept her gaze fixed forward, she didn't even turn her head when the footsteps stopped right behind her and two warm arms wrapped around her waist. Magenta couldn't help it, she shivered in delight, leaning into the touch. Riff's lips were suddenly by her earlobe, gently pressing a kiss in the soft spot.

"You are freezing, my beautiful sister."

"I am fine." She protested, but her brother didn't want to hear any of it. He took of his own overcoat, a shabby, grey, yet warm piece of clothing and gently wrapped it around her arms. She snuggled in it like a child would in its favorite blanket. The coat smelt of Riff; the scent of the sea she would catch every time she touched his bare skin, with the slightest touch of mint that she could sense just above his collarbone.

"Better, I guess." He chuckled. That bastard, Magenta thought; he knew perfectly well that the sound drove her insane. Insane with desire. Yes.

"You'll freeze," she complained, even though the selfish part of her was screaming in agony and begging her to keep the coat on forever. "or you may as well get sick."

His hands slipped into the coat pockets and he got closer to her.

"I'm fine," Riff assured her.

Magenta sighed and put out her cigarette, throwing the bum forward and watching it disappear into the whiteness.

"Frank?" she asked, turning to face her brother and see his blue eyes shining with a tired, yet frisky and playful gleam.

"He's sleeping. I guess the climate isn't doing too well for him."

Her hands joined his in the pockets and she felt a small object into the left one. She eyed her brother questioningly, but he just smiled at her. Magenta got out a small mistletoe branch and lifted her eyebrows at Riff, a slight chuckle escaping her lips. Her brother shrugged.

"My pockets are full of surprises."

"You're just looking for an excuse to get a kiss."

A devilish grin curved his mouth upwards. "Maybe I am."

"Well, you're not getting it," he mimicked a pout and his sister laughed loudly. "not until I check the other pocket, that is."

"Be my guest."

Her hand slipped into the right one, feeling his hand first and then a small cube-shaped velvety box. Curiously, she pulled it out and her breath hitched in her throat as she found that she was holding a jewelry box.

"Riff –"

"Time never seems to be right for this," he shrugged, taking the box from her hand and opening it. Magenta thought she was going to get a heart attack when she saw a delicate silver ring with a small diamond in it. "this may seem like a stupid human ritual to you, but I find it pretty romantic and I couldn't figure out a better way to say it." Riff took one of her hands and gently held it in his own. "Magenta, eternal love of my life, would you do me the honor of being my wife when we manage to go back home?"

She felt a small tear of happiness fall from her eye, as she took both his hands in hers, sharing and giving warmth, receiving as much in return.

"My idiotic brother, you didn't have to do this to make me yours. Yes. Yes I will."

Riff's smile got wider as he slipped the small ring eloquently on her finger. It was a perfect fit, the metal feeling cold at her skin at first, but she herself wasn't cold anymore. She knew that her whole life would be warmth from now on, no matter what happened.

"Can I get my kiss now?"

Magenta laughed and held the mistletoe over their heads, pulled him into her, their lips crashing into each other, warm breaths colliding in their mouths. There and then, as they kissed, the snow falling gently behind them, that Magenta thought that cold was so overrated as a fear, when one could get warm just with a feeling in their own chest.