AN: This is an AU series, where most of it takes place pre-series for Numb3rs, and then moves on to later also crossover with CSI: Miami and CSI:NY. This is basically a collection of connected oneshots, and I have them posted in separate fics before, but I decided to just combine them all together and place them in some kind of an order. This particular fic is set very pre-series.

“Status Subject to Change”

Angie took another sip of the champagne then glanced around the room. She thought she had sworn off these things for good, but apparently, there were some things you couldn’t get rid of. But she was on the job, so she had no choice. At least, that’s what she was telling herself.

“I still can’t believe you got us in here,” David whispered from next to her, and she turned to him, rolling her eyes.

“I’m a Malone,” she sighed, “Not letting me in is like committing social suicide for these people.” She turned to him and started to fix his clothes, “Where did you learn to put on a tux?”

David just shook his head before glancing around, “At least your name is good for something in this job.” Angie glared up at him before pulling back.

“Alright, the people I think you should keep an eye on are over in that corner,” she sighed, before looking him up and down making sure he was presentable, “Go mix and mingle.”

“Mix and mingle?” he frowned, “How am I supposed to do that? I don’t know any of these people.”

“Fine, then,” she sighed, “Stick with me. But be pleasant, not a jerk like you usually are.” David raised an eyebrow at the lack of profanity, but didn’t say anything.

“Angela, dear? Is that you?” They both turned to see a older woman, looking at Angie with a confused smile.

“Mrs. Antonio-Montgomery?” Angie sighed, giving the woman her best smile, “How are you?”

“I’m fine, dear,” she turned to David and gave him a gentle smile, “And who is this?”

“This is my—escort, David Sinclair,” she replied, and David extended his hand to the woman, “David, this is Rebecca Antonio-Montgomery, she’s an old friend of my mother.”

“Nice to meet you, ma’am.”

“A pleasure, dear,” Rebecca nodded, “Well, Angela, I better continued making my rounds. Tell your mother I said hello.”

“I will,” Angie nodded with a smile, and once the woman had disappeared from view, she downed the rest of her champagne in one gulp, “This is gonna be more aggravating than I thought.”

“I didn’t even rank date?” David frowned, and Angie shook her head.

“We don’t have dates. Unless you’re my boyfriend, you’re an escort.”

“There are too many rules for this,” David shook his head.

“That’s why most people are raised in it,” she stated, before letting her eyes skim the room slightly. She did the most subtle double take he had ever seen, before her eyes went wide and she spun around to face him.

“Did he see me?”

“Who?” David asked, confused.

“The—the cowboy,” she stammered, and he looked up, confused, before spotting a man wearing a ten-gallon hat in the crowd.

“I don’t think so,” David frowned, “Who is he?”

“I was in love with him when I was—about twelve,” she explained, looking very uncomfortable, “It was very embarrassing, especially when he started reciprocating just as my feelings started to wane—I just really don’t want to talk to him alright?”

“Well, you might have to deal with that, because he’s coming this way.”

“Damnit!” she hissed, before grabbing another glass of champagne, and turning him to face her, “Look like we were having sparkling, witty conversation.”

“What?” David frowned, before a voice came from next to them.

“Well, would y’all look at this? Angie Malone.”

She turned and feigned a look of happy surprise, “Brian! Oh, my God, hi!”

“Shoot, there Angie, don’t you look pretty,” he grinned before taking her hand and spinning her around, “Let me have a look at ya.” The spin wasn’t graceful, it was fast and forceful, and David had to catch her to keep her from falling to the floor.

“You—you look good too,” she nodded, wanting to disappear. David cleared his throat, and she looked up at him, before turning back to Brian.

“Oh, God, where are my manners?” she laughed, “This is my—date, David Sinclair. David, this is Brian McLeighton, an old—friend.”

“Date, huh?” Brian replied, “Well, you there got he prettiest darn girl in the room.”

“Don’t I know it,” David said smoothly, and Brian tipped his hat to both of them before leaving them alone. David turned down at her, confused.

“Date?”

“You got promoted,” she replied, “And it was the only way he would go away.”

“I see,” David replied, “Would it have hurt to tell that other woman I was your date.”

“Yes,” Angie nodded, “Because then it would have gotten back to my mother that I was dating a black man, and she might have a slight heart attack. Not because she’s a racist, but because she’ll think I’m shacking up with a guy like 50 Cent.”

“Ah,” David nodded.

“Brian, on the other hand, doesn’t talk to my mother, and if it somehow got back to her that way, I could say I was lying to scare him off, and she would understand.”

“So my status is subject to change based on who you’re talking to?”

“Pretty much.”

“Why did we take this assignment again?” he asked, knowing that she was as annoyed with it as she was.

“Because they wouldn’t give me anything else.”

“That’s right—”