Mr. Green - the man behind the mystery.

Leverage, Eliot + team, Eliot confesses to the team that he's an undercover federal agent

"I'm sure we'll make a lovely couple," Clint said, and forced a smile. "Honey."

Darcy is undercover and Clint is dubious.

"It was too nice a day to be cooped up in the car for long, and Neal knew from experience that if he loitered on the sidewalk, there was a good chance a timely piece of evidence—or a fleeing suspect—would come his way."

"Bri-an." And Brian was yanked out of his zone, out of the passing traffic, to focus on Calls-Himself-Logan-Yeah-Right. Logan was looking skuzzier than usual tonight - a few extra piercings, his shirt ragged and ripped, and he was twitching a little, looking for trouble, looking for some extra cash. And thinking Brian could provide both. Brian looked at the twitching and tried to assess it - had he had Sugar recently? Or was this something else, just some coke or something?

Follows this chapter but isn't actually a text so I don't feel right putting it with that work.

Tim never was one for sharing his plans with others.

The request for help was coded enough that it was understood exactly how deep Tim and Cassandra were undercover. Dick's still surprised by how far under they are.

How far will Tim go for authenticity?

written for the 2011 Female Character Trope Fest. Prompt: "undercover in a lesbian bar."

He was a chuunin academy teacher, not a courtier trained in statecraft and diplomacy.

"This is a dream assignment, and I am not going to fuck it up just because my teammates aren't secure enough in their masculinity," he said to Pooch. "You ever nibble on my earlobe again, they will find your body in eight places," Pooch said, but Pooch didn't share Jensen's commitment to self-improvement.

How far will Tim go for authenticity?

A murder mystery at Smallville High drives Kon to brush up on his detective skills – and his undercover work. He might need to call in some help. Good thing his best friend is an expert at both.

Dick Grayson gives shitty advice on how to go undercover as a hooker. Fortunately, Steph can do better.

"I'm a good boyfriend," Cougar said.

There is a philosophical difference between herds and packs, though Hibari might beg to differ.

No one in their right minds would ever expect it of him, and that’s why he’s the one best-suited to the job.

In which Yamamoto has cause to go undercover with Bianchi and discovers something about himself.

“That’s the best you could do for a disguise?” Shikamaru huffs, but his fingers are digging into Kiba's hips through the thin fabric.

Mei laughs, rich and throaty, and takes the glass from her, tilting it up to her lips and taking a long swallow. Then, perfectly careless, she drops it over the arm of the chair to shatter on the floor, gaze never wavering from Kushina. “How about I help you in return, sweetheart? That dress looks uncomfortable. Take it off.”

Why the fuck would Ned Stark’s kid volunteer to sell off his fucking virginity, that’s something Jaime would honestly like to know. … Also, damn, now that he looks back at it, it’s not just that he’s nervous. He has the face of someone who’s wholly fucking regretting being here. Or: in which Jon makes extremely bad life decisions. Good for him that he pretty much crashes Jaime's undercover op.

The change can't be immediate, or it’ll seem forced. It has to take time, in order to be realistic. He knows that. He’ll need to seem like a villain. But he’ll be a hero. And for that, Hitoshi thinks he’d do just about anything. Or, Someone's selling UA's secrets, and Shinsou Hitoshi definitely doesn't have anything to prove.

Lan Zhan and Wei Ying go undercover at a fetish party.

“I appreciate your willingness to indulge me, Commander,” Padmé says, keeping her eyes very firmly fixed forward as Tekla works. Just because she wants to stare doesn’t mean she will.

“Well,” Kit says lightly. “This does seem to be a predicament, doesn’t it?” Pressed right up against him, gauntlets digging bruises into his almost-bare hips, Dogma squeezes his eyes tightly shut. “I'm going to kill my whole squad,” he says, perfectly certain and resigned to it.

There's a moment of absolute silence as Fives and Echo trade startled glances, Rex gapes at Obi-Wan, and Kix and Jesse freeze, eyes widening. Then, deliberately, awkwardly, Rex clears his throat, face about four shades redder than it was a moment ago. “General, you—you know Quinlan?” No wonder they made it out of the smuggler’s mansion in one piece. Obi-Wan breathes in through his nose, lets it out, and then says, “Very well, yes. Quinlan Vos, I thought you were dead, and instead you were—were—playing hooker to a crime lord!”

Thire's grimace is apologetic, but that doesn’t stop him from saying, “We’ve got a guy from that group of infiltrators who got rounded up last night asking to speak with command.” Fox waits, brow raised, because if every lowlife who wanted to talk to command ended up in his office he’d never do anything else. Thire knows that, too. If this guy rates a mention, there’s a reason. Thire's expression says he needs a vacation, and also someone else willing to play messenger. “He says he’s a Jedi, sir.”

Quinlan finds a man frozen in carbonite on Geonosis. That's just the start of his problems.

“Be careful,” Jon says, though Nico likely doesn’t need the reminder. “If the Sith Lord notices—” “Then he’d best not,” Nico says, and vanishes with a ripple of light. A moment later, the door opens, then shuts again, and Knol snorts. “Fancy tricks, all of you,” she says, amused, and takes the hand Jon offers her. “Says the woman who eats fire,” Jon says. “With the Force.”

“Are you really sure this is necessary?” Jon asks, faintly hunted.

“You were watching me,” the kid says, in a soft colorless voice. It could be a threat if it wanted to be, easily, but in that tone it’s just a statement of fact. “Yeah, I’m sure it’s the first time anyone’s ever looked at you,” Baiyi says. He sips his drink. “You must not get any attention in that outfit.” The corner of the kid’s red mouth quirks up. “I’m sure you get attention in those,” he says.

Jango's eyes flicker up, down, up again, and it’s meant to be dismissive, but Shaak knows wariness when she sees it, and it makes her smile just a little. “Lady, I just tried to put a slug through that fancy headdress of yours.” With a chuckle, Shaak takes a step closer. “Fett, I've been a Jedi for decades. If I held a grudge against everyone who had tried to kill me, I would have more enemies than you.”

“Barriss?” Ahsoka hisses, bewildered. Barriss, in a fancier dress than Ahsoka has ever seen her in, covered in tattoos and dripping jewelry, freezes stock-still on the stairs into the casino, and Ahsoka feels the bright-sharp flare of her panic a half-second before she spins to face Ahsoka.

“Well this is awkward,” Quinlan says, raising a hand to stop his nipple tassels from swinging.

When Dark Woman orders him to fall in the name of finding the Sith Lord and ending the war, Jon obeys the way he always does. If it's in the name of saving more lives, he can believe it's worth it, no matter what he has to do. Rex and Cody getting dragged down with him was never something he intended.

Quiet, easygoing Yagi who prods his fingertips together when he’s nervous and afraid of saying the wrong thing. He has a cheerful little bit of praise for every student, and makes a point of complimenting his coworkers; Nedzu’s lustrous fur, Nemuri’s manicured nails, Hizashi’s latest show. He’s the gentle structural support of All Might left bare, who he knows and has started to begrudgingly respect as a teacher. He's the last person Shouta would expect to see here. But fuck, he's hot.

Padmé hears the sharp, ragged gasp, and she’s already turning when Fives jerks up off the bed, on his feet in an instant. A fist lashes out, almost too quick to see, but Padmé catches it, twists, pulls, and when Fives staggers, he falls right into her with a cry. “Easy,” Padmé says, and catches him, holds him up as he gets his bearings. “You’re all right, I swear. You’re safe, Fives.”

“Please tell me you're paying attention, Echo, this is not the second you should start taking after Fives.”

Jango takes a job for the Mining Guild, reinforcing security around one of their mines. There are slaves in the mines, and one in particular who breaks everything in his world right open.

“What?” Rex's voice shades towards alarm. “Cody, that’s a bad idea—” “You can't go,” Cody says reasonably. “You have to monitor communications and make sure the generals have an extraction ready if they need it. Ghost Company’s down half its men right now, so I have the chance.” “That’s exactly the tone you used when you explained why you were overcome with the urge to punch General Grievous in the metal face,” Rex informs him. “Cody, no.”

“Remind me why I’m the one on my knees again? I look ridiculous.” He’s not kidding. He doesn’t have the fucking physique to pull off submissive kitty cat. He’s broad, hairy, and thick with muscle. The expensive ears on his head, the detailed mitts on his hands, and the tail attached to his leather short shorts can’t possibly look anything but stupid. Not to mention the heavy black leather collar around his neck and its stupidly delicate Property of Timothy Drake-Wayne tag. He doesn’t know what the fuck Babs was thinking when she asked him to help Tim with this mission instead of Steph. Except he does, because of course their target just had to be into degrading big men. Fuck, but he hates honeypot missions.

On a border world caught between the Sith and Mandalorian Empires, Mace and his padawan seek a vanished Council member. They aren't the only ones looking for something lost, though, and Jaster Mereel is a force all his own - one Mace is hard-pressed to resist.

I know you,” Jaster says, low, and Jon freezes, halfway to his feet in the snow.

“Maybe,” Alpha says, and it’s not nearly steady as he thinks it is, “I should do this to all the bitchy little pirates I capture.”

Ever since he’d come out to his devout Roman Catholic family, Johnny had been told he was going to Hell. Seeing Simon “Ghost” Riley on his knees in front of him, looking like Lust incarnate, has him thinking Hell suits him far better than Heaven anyway. His blonde hair catches the fluorescents like a halo, and Johnny now knows exactly what the legends meant when they said the devil has angelic eyes. OR: Johnny needs proof that the aphrodisiac drug sample they're retrieving is real, so he tests it the only way he can with the resources he has: on himself. It's real, alright - he figures that out pretty quick.

There’s something strange about the bounty hunter the marks hired for this job, but Granta can't quite put his finger on it.

Dick pulled a face at the new paperwork. “Why do we gotta lie on this stuff, anyway? People aren’t gonna know what I can do exactly when I’m Robin...” “But they’ll suspect,” Bruce answered, typing something on his computer. “This way, if they think Richard Grayson isn’t all that impressive of a metahuman, it’s more cover for Robin flying through Gotham.” “Hmph.” --- In an AU where small, token superpowers are common enough to have their own optional line on forms alongside name and age, it's totally coincidence for Batman to have picked up a circus kid capable of flight. And a tire thief with super strength. And a- well, alright, the pint-sized photographer with not-actual-invisibility makes for a pattern, but even so. (He still tells the Justice League he doesn't allow metahumans in Gotham, though. Somehow with a straight face.) Series

"They're watching me," Jason says, when Daisy Mae has left. "Who, the drag queens?" Tim says. His face is an inch from Jason's chest, and when the strobe lights flash their way he can see a drop of sweat moving down Jason's pecs. His mind feels staticky, bouncing from general outrage to a general desire to put his mouth on Jason's skin. He's too horny to be rational about any of this. ++ Tim goes to a gay club and finds himself embroiled in one of Jason's cases. Glitter is involved. Also crises of morality. Also booty shorts.