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 so much to everyone for your continuing kindness and encouragement! I'm sorry I can't offer you much else in turn. But hey, hopefully this will do well enough? Well, hopefully.

This story is set after the film.

She Who Holds the Purse Strings

He came to her on bent knee, his face turned up to her in supplication. He reached for her hand; he took it in his own; he clasped it to his breast.

"My wife," he called her. "My princess. Most beautiful, most generous, most wise. She shines bright as the evening star. Even the noble Solomon would do well to heed her words."

Tiana set her chin upon her hand, two fingers against her cheek, two folded to her palm. She smiled wryly down at him.

"Flatterer," she called him.

"I speak nothing but truth," he said, "as anyone can see, so obvious are your very many virtues."

"Shameless flatterer," she amended. "What do you want?"

"I?" he said. "What do I want?" His lashes fell over his eyes. He brought her fingers to his lips and murmured, "Only your love."

"Well, that's very sweet of you," she said. He picked tiny kisses between her knuckles, his head bent over her hand. The light caught in his dark hair, glinting. "Now do you mind telling me what this is really about?"

"Can a man not simply make love to his wife?" said Naveen. "Must he have another purpose?" Defiantly, fiercely, he kissed the back of her hand.

Tiana said nothing to this: she let him hold her hand, let him protest his innocence. In reply, she crooked but one eyebrow.

"But as you are so bent on maligning my character," he said to her palm, "then perhaps I ought strive to meet expectations. My princess, I find myself in dire straits. A calamitous circumstance has befallen me." He lingered over the joint of her thumb.

"Oh, my," said Tiana. "That does sound awful."

"So awful I cannot speak of it. And so I come to you, my amazing, generous wife." He abandoned his ministrations and lowered her hand, covering it with his own. He looked to her, his eyes steady upon hers, the line of his mouth solemn. "May I borrow fifty dollars?"

"What did you do with your last paycheck?" she demanded. She eyed him. "You got paid on Friday, mister."

"I made an investment," he said. "In the garment industry. I think it will pay out handsomely."

"You bought another suit," she translated.

"Yes, but it's a very flattering suit," he said. He smiled at her, the sort of slow, dirty smile that called up goosepimples all up and down her spine, made her want to cross her legs. "You will like it."

Tiana folded her arm across her chest; she left her legs uncrossed. "And what are you planning on doing with fifty dollars? Buying yourself another suit?"

Naveen made a dismissive noise deep in his throat. "I would not wear such a cheap suit," he said, derisive. "No, there's a new phonograph that I am very much interested in, and it is only, ahh, thirty to thirty-five dollars, but!" He rose eagerly to his feet, drawing her hand with him. "For an additional eight, I can also--"

"We already have a phonograph," she said, laughing.

"Yes, but I like this one," he said, plaintive. "Oh, you must see it. It's magnificent. So many features, and the design! Astounding."

Tiana looked him over. "We-ll," she said. "I suppose if you like it that much..."

He drew closer, intent upon her. A small, certain smile started across his lean face.

She looked up into that dear, eager face turned down to her own. She said, "You'll just have to set aside some money from your next paycheck." And she settled back into her chair.

Naveen pushed her hand away; how fickle his heart. "I take back my flattery," he said. "You are not generous. You are cruel."

"Sensible," she corrected.

"Miser," he accused.

"Spendthrift," she countered.

"Tyrant," he said.

"Excuse you?" said Tiana.

"I am excused," he retorted. He turned sharply on his heel and retreated, defeat heavy upon his shoulders. At the threshold he hesitated; he rested his hand upon the doorframe; he turned back to her. He said, "Tiana..."

"Next paycheck's in a week," she sang.

He rounded the corner.

This story was originally posted at livejournal on 01/22/2010, for livejournal user bluecheshirecat, who purchased fic from me at help_haiti, a fandom auction to raise donations for Haiti in the wake of the earthquake disaster.