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.

Ha! I remembered to update on time. Thank you so much to everyone who's read these stories, and might read them: to the new readers as well as the old. I'm so glad you've enjoyed them and I hope, very much so, that you will continue to do so.

This story is set after the film.

The Pitch

Where else was he to find his bride, but hard at work?

He lingered at the threshold, to watch her as she worked. On the stove two pots burbled, low-key, subdued. A mixing bowl waited to the side, and scattered across the counter an assortment of vegetables and ripe, shining fruits lay in neat piles.

At the sink, Tiana finished cleaning a head of lettuce and reached to switch off the water, rising off her heels. Naveen traced the easy line of her back, from her leg stretched out behind her, up the sinuous curve of her spine to the graceful sweep of her throat. She settled, and pulled her apron into place, dragging it tight over her breasts, smoothing it over her ample hips.

It would be prudent, he thought, to say something before this went any farther. He pushed off the doorframe.

"Ah, waitress," he called. His footsteps sounded out sharp and even on the polished floor. He threw some swing into his hips. "If you need a hand, let me know, and I will find someone to assist you."

She smiled, a wry sort of smile. Her cheek dimpled; her lashes swept low over her eyes. "Isn't that generous?"

He pressed a hand to his breast. "What can I say? I'm a very giving person."

"I just might take you up on that offer," she told him.

"Sadly, it's a limited time offer. It may not last much longer. I suggest acting quickly, before this fantastic deal is lost." He leaned back against the counter, near enough her shoulder brushed his arm. "So, what do you say, waitress?"

"I'll keep that in mind," she said, "but you might want to work on your sales pitch."

"Oh? How so?"

"For starters," she said, pressing in real close, "y'all'd be better off getting your most valued customer's title right."

"My most valued customer," he said, thoughtful. "And who might that be? It's just, there have been so many..."

Tiana ticked her fingers up his tie. "I'll give you one big hint," she said. She rested her hand on his shoulder, the band of her ring warm against his neck. "You married her."

"Yes, yes!" he cried. He smacked his palm to his forehead. "It is so obvious! How could I have forgotten? Now," he said, "you were saying something about titles? I believe? Something like that. Yes? Waitress?"

"I'm not sure who this waitress of yours is," she said. She touched her fingers to her collar. "But I'm the proprietor of this restaurant."

So close, he hardly needed to reach to rest his palm upon her shoulder and slide it down, down the smooth length of her arm.

"I much prefer princess," he said, low. He touched her jaw and leaned down, to kiss that crooked corner of her mouth, and then, perhaps, the sumptuous curve of her lower lip.

Tiana twisted away from his hand; she slipped neatly around him. Naveen caught himself on the counter as if he had intended to all along. He rested his chin in his hand.

"You are extraordinarily nimble," he told her. "Did you know that? And very beautiful as well."

"Are you done?"

He shrugged. "I could go on."

Tiana skated her fingers across the countertop, her wrist arching gracefully. "I think I will take you up on that offer," she said. She handed him the knife, handle first. "Hop to it."

He took the knife from her and studied it. His reflection frowned back at him, wavering along the blade. "And what am I doing with this?"

"Why," she said, "what you do best."

"I hate to disappoint, Madam Proprietor," he said, "but whatever it is you're thinking I do best? This is not it."

"And what exactly is it you do best?"

He smiled, very slow and very dirty.

Tiana laughed, a loud, sweet peal that vibrated in her throat.

"Just get to mincing," she said.

Naveen sighed, mournful. He scattered the bushy stalks of celery with a careless hand. "Ah, my love!" he said. "She is so cruel. And so humorless. But for her: I mince."

"I'll let her know," said Tiana.

This story was originally posted at livejournal on 12/20/2009.