A/N: So I originally wrote this as a one shot thing for a tumblr challenge, but then i realized "wow I did not do their relationship any justice at all" and this is for the sake of developing them more c: these two dorks need some love

this is gonna be a slow-burn romance; its kind of like a chapter by chapter fic but not really xD it's little snapshots in Swain and LeBlanc's lives that include shit like the Kalamanda plot that Riot had (before they trashed it) and some other floofy and dramatic things :D aka: romance + action with a dash of classy?smut. It's not really in chronological order but I try q.q

enjoy :D

(p.s. I made the original 1st chapter the second chapter instead for the sake of timeline reasons that bugged me)

x-x-x-x-x

There were no faces he knew more than hers, no eyes he stared more into than those amber orbs. Throughout the years he had watched her seduce and use that sweet mouth of hers on diplomats, ambassadors and even generals. Hesitation was not in her vocabulary when it came to facing situations. But his careful eye was how he had discovered her in a far more different light. Swain had a habit for watching every slight change in a person's visage; it was how he had moved the tides to his favor and gained his charm within the Noxian High Command. But LeBlanc was no ordinary woman, she played the same game as he did. Their similarity had brought them to a new game of sorts, a fascinating challenge on garnering information from the other simply through wordplay and expressions.

The tea table was their favorite battleground.

She waltzed into his estate as she normally did and found him in the aviary, sitting alone with a cup in hand and a porcelain tea-set ready on the table. A sun-filled smile lit her features in the most uncharacteristic way imaginable as she approached him. It reminded him how easy it was for her to simply change from one personality to another.

How different it was from the past.

"Jericho, darling- you were gone yesterday" she stated "is something the matter?" LeBlanc gingerly took a seat on the opposite side of the small table while Swain naturally poured her a cup of tea out of habit.

"I had to look after Beatrice, she was ill and needed my attention" he replied smoothly. It was true enough, Beatrice was feeling sick of being trapped inside her cage all day during council meetings.

But his full reasons were far less than respectable, let alone accepted in Noxian society. He had bought himself a ticket to see Sona Buvelle herself play live in Demacia under the disguise and alias of a noble. It was dangerous and admittedly reckless, but he thought it was worth to see his favorite musician.

"And?" She was not satisfied, of course she wasn't. LeBlanc was and will always be the best liar between the both of them, even if he did lie it would be for naught.

" And I attended a performance of Sona Buvelle's, she played beautifully"

Her lower lip twitched ever so slightly and her forehead crinkled for a millisecond.

"Does the poster of her in your private quarters not suffice? Or the multiple love letters lying patiently in your drawer?" the Deceiver asked teasingly, she stirred her tea at a slow pace. Her eyes bore into his, unreadable as usual "honestly, you can be such a child at times"

A heavy silence sat between them. Swain's neutral gaze turned to ice at her comment and the exposed fragility of their alliance became visible. LeBlanc's eyes darted to the table, averting his stare.

Swain dropped a sugar cube into his tea, suddenly finding the taste too bitter for his liking.

"Is that all you wanted to discuss...?" he choked out in forced politeness. Swain had never been one for being rude in conversations despite what emotion he felt.

LeBlanc pulled out a folder full of papers and slid it to him "These are reports from my agents, I think you'll find them to your liking" she replied nonchalantly while opening the folder

Swain wasted no time, looking at the papers laid out in front of him. LeBlanc pursed her lips as he reviewed the files, picking up her teacup and sipping delicately from it. She set the cup down to it's saucer and glanced at her perfectly manicured nails. Patience never was her strongest suit.

"Interesting, thank you. You may go if you please."

The Deceiver stared at the Tactician in internal shock. Swain had never dismissed her from their conversations before. She stood up, peeved and took a deep bow, amber eyes failing to meet his.

"As you wish, Grand General." LeBlanc replied stoically and disappeared in a cloud of purple smoke. Swain leaned back in his chair, an exasperated sigh parting his lips as he took off his cloth mask and glanced at Beatrice sitting in her cage. The bird cawed at her master.

"I know I hurt her"he murmured, fingering his tea saucer " Evaine simply overstepped her boundary for a moment"

Beatrice gave a low pitched caw at that statement and Jericho shook his head in doubt "Her? Jealous? That's almost an insult."

The raven thrashed around her cage, cawing hysterically before staring at Swain with all six of her eyes.

"If it is what your assuming, then perhaps she feels the same way..." he concluded, staring at the thorned onyx ring resting on his finger.

That night he took the poster of Sona off his wall and burned the letters he had written.