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.

Always the worst at updating when promised: that's me. I've no excuses now (I never had any excuses) and I don't know if it's really enough simply to apologize. Nevertheless: I'm sorry. I promised to update on a regular schedule and as you can clearly see, I failed to do so. Thank you so very much for continuing to put up with me.

This is set post-film.

Early to Rise

Tiana fixed herself a cup down in the kitchen, then, mug firmly in hand, she set back up the stairs.

In her absence, Naveen had seen fit to take over the rest of the bed, one long, golden-brown arm thrown out over the sheets, his face buried in the pillows. The bedspread had tangled around his waist, leaving all his broad and very much bare back out there for anyone to see. If she lingered, looking that back over from top to bottom, well, she'd married him.

Tiana switched the mug from one hand to the other, balancing carefully. She reached down to shake his shoulder. "Rise and shine, your royal slugabedness. It's about time you rolled out of bed."

Naveen groaned into the mess of pillows. His shoulder rose, then fell, rolling beneath her fingers. "Molasam," he said, in a voice half-rusted with sleep. "Too early. Come back later."

"I'm afraid that's not happening," said Tiana. She nudged him again, prodding at his ribs. He frowned and slapped at her; his hand closed around her wrist. Idly, he swept his thumb over her pulse once, twice, again. Naveen pressed his face down into the pillow; he wriggled closer.

"C'mon," she said, "get up. We got a lot do."

"Busy, busy," he murmured. He looked up at her, lashes drawn dark over his eyes, his mouth sleep-softened, the corners pouting. He tugged on her wrist. "Come back to bed."

"I'm giving you 'til the count of three," Tiana said, "and then I'm pulling that spread right off you. One. Two--"

Naveen tugged again and she came down onto the mattress, holding the mug up high above her head. He threw his arm around her waist. "Whoopsy daisy," he breathed.

Tiana held the mug as steady as she could, with Naveen gathering her to his chest, his fingers twining in her shirt. The bed depressed beneath her. "Whoa, careful, honey," she said. "Coffee's hot."

Progress: he lifted his head off the pillow. "Coffee?" he said. He took in a long drag of that thick, roasted smell, his lips parting, mouth falling open. He wound himself around her; he rose onto his elbow.

She swung the mug out of his reach and Naveen made a noise in his throat. "That's right," she said, teasing it out. She smiled at him, nice and slow. "And I've got a fresh pot brewing downstairs, just for you."

He blinked slowly at her, then frowned; his eyebrows drew down to a point. His cheek was wrinkled where he'd slept on it. "I see," he said. He fell back against the pillows. "Wake me when it's fully brewed, please. Thanks."

"Oh, no, no, sir." She slipped out of his grasp, sliding down to the very edge of the bed, then rising off it. He felt for her, his fingers passing over the sheets. "If you want that coffee, you're coming with me."

He rolled his lips. "Coffee first," he said. "Then whatever else it is you want. Okay?"

"Three," said Tiana, and she yanked the spread free.

This story was originally posted at livejournal on 12/24/2009.