Disclaimer: I do not own nor do I claim to own any characters or concepts related to The Princess and the Frog. This is a nonprofit work of fanfiction.

Thank you, again, to everyone who has read these stories. I'm really, seriously, no lie blown away by the response. Thank you so, so much. I'm so glad you're enjoying them and, as before, I hope you will continue to enjoy them! Thank you, as well, to everyone who has reviewed: thank you, thank you. You guys are awesome.

So Chira (halcyonjazz on livejournal) goes, "I kept expecting Naveen to do that Addams Family kiss-up-the-arm-of-adoration thing," and I go, "So, uh, I'm writing that." So I did.

This is set after the film by a few months.

C'est L'amour

Tiana didn't think she'd ever get the Maldoniz language down, but a word here and there or a simple phrase or two: that she could do. She went over the words she wanted again and again, and held them tightly under her tongue 'til she thought she could them justice. No sense in doing it half wrong when she could do it all right.

Late night, after hours, toward the end of spring, they ate together on the balcony outside the restaurant, watching the lights go by on the river. Naveen snuck bits off her plate and she let him, pretending not to see. The restaurant was quiet mostly, the doors locked, all the lights but one shut off, everyone else gone but the two of them. No music to dance to, but she held her hand out to him anyway.

She hadn't planned to say it then, but: Naveen sketched out a square with his feet, checking the balcony for pebbles, little things that might trip them up. His hair fell into his eyes, curls too long now. The restaurant was dark, but the stars were bright, and the river glittered and New Orleans beside it, and all that light seemed to settle in his hair or along his bending shoulders. He hummed, off-key but not by much.

"I think tonight we should try the Lindy Hop--"

"Naveen," she said.

He turned to her, close enough she could slide her hand down his arm. Tiana kept her hands to herself.

She said, just about as gracefully as she'd ever manage, "Lanonza di acibra tam."

Naveen stilled, then: he took a step closer and caught her hand in his own; he twined his fingers with hers. He brought her knuckles to his lips.

"Say it again," he said, the words hot on her skin.

"It was only--" Her heart pressed hard against her ribs; it beat against her breast. "All I said was I love you. I didn't say it wrong, did I?" Those dratted tenses.

"No," he said, clasping her hand, "no, no, you were beautiful. Perfect. Amazing. Your mastery of the subject-verb agreement is especially stunning." He pressed her hand to his cheek. "But please, say it again."

"Naveen," she said, laughing.

He dropped a kiss on her wrist, where her pulse trembled. "Please."

In the shallow pool of light which gathered on the balcony, his eyes gleamed: dark, the pupils swollen, but shining, too.

"Well," she said, drawing it out. "You did ask nicely."

He smiled against her wrist. "Please and everything."

"I suppose I could give it another shot," she allowed.

"I eagerly await your shooting," he said, "but please aim carefully."

She traced his cheek, following the ridge of bone. "Lanonza," she said, with care.

Naveen grasped her wrist; he slipped his hand up her arm and turned it over. He pressed a fleeting, burning kiss to the soft skin there and another warm kiss above that.

"Di," she said.

Three more kisses sprinkled up her arm, each longer than the one before. He dawdled over the last, his lips parted, his breath whispering across her skin. Tiana swallowed a laugh.

"Please," he said. She felt his smile, hidden in the crook of her elbow. "Continue."

She touched his shoulder, which bowed.

"Acibra," she said.

Every syllable, another kiss, prickling her skin. He rose, brushing his lips here, then higher, his hand sweeping aside her sleeve, so thin and gauzy. He nuzzled her shoulder, idling there. She shivered and under her fingers, twisted up in his jacket, she felt it pass through him, too.

"Almost there," he said, now at her throat.

"Tam," she breathed out.

Naveen framed her face in his hands. He kissed her, soft and pleasing, his thumbs drawing warm circles on her cheeks. Tiana hooked her fingers in his lapels, drawing him down, dragging him near. He stumbled and fell against her, and laughed into her mouth.

"That good, huh?" she said.

"Oh, yes," he said. "Very much so. I might kiss you again, that's how good."

Tiana brushed the curls back from his brow. He leaned his forehead against hers and smiled, slow and very content. She trailed her fingers down his jaw, to linger at his chin.

"I do love you," she said quietly.

"Shalzi murate," he said. His smile deepened; it cocked to one side. "That means, I also for you. Don't worry. I will teach you later."

"Aren't you sure of yourself," she said. She pulled at his lapels, tugging them back into place. "As it turns out, I already know that one."

"Oh, my," said Naveen. "Then there is so little left to teach. Your accent, perhaps," he murmured, as he twisted his finger in her hair.

She turned to his touch. "Why don't you help me with that later?"

"I am free now," he offered. "But it may take some time. This is a very complicated lesson."

She spread her hand across his chest. Very lightly, she tapped her bare wrist. "Would you look at that?" she said. "Just so happens I've got some time right now."

"Then let us begin," said Naveen. He covered her hand, his fingers wandering across her wrist. "We don't want to waste any time."

Tiana leaned against him. "So stop talking," she said.

This story was originally posted at livejournal on 12/16/2009.