Bellamy Blake thought he knew Clarke Griffin. After all, her face made one of the national newspapers or magazines at least once a week. Once she hit high school age that number jumped from one to five. Her father was a world-renowned scientist. It was usually only the children of actors or singers who made the news, but Clarke Griffin was the exception.

From a young age she graced the covers of national periodicals showing her attending her father's conferences or various other public speaking events. When she was a teenager she was interviewed by magazines that discussed clothing and boys and what clothes to wear to attract boys (Bellamy only knew this because his sister Octavia was a religious reader of said magazines, not matter how much he tried to persuade her).

Now, as an adult Bellamy most frequently saw her on the covers of gossip magazines. The debates were endless on everything from her love life (bisexual and currently single) to what she ate for breakfast (she was a vegetarian so mostly eggs) to the endless causes and charities she seemed to support (art, public education and animal cruelty were at the top of what was a very long list). Bellamy hated himself for knowing all of that. He blamed his sister who without fail always seemed to have a copy of some new trashy copy tucked under her arm.

To make matters worse, he had just been assigned to be her body guard for a big charity event that Clarke Griffin was hosting at her house. Bellamy had just started in the private security six months ago after a stressful and very underpaying job in the public sector. He had quickly become a favorite because of his young age and ability to blend in. Plus, he was darn good at his job and had an amazing track record. It had only been a matter of time before he was being hired out to celebrities, at least according to his boss.

And really, Bellamy Blake wouldn't have minded, if it had been anyone other than her. He was so sick of seeing her face practically everywhere he looked these days. There was such thing as over exposure, at least in his opinion, and Clarke Griffin was one of the most recognizable faces in America.

Her popularity also made her a huge target and thus the need for a security guard. Apparently she refused to have one on a day-to-day basis, which Bellamy thought was insane, not that anyone was asking him. After one very close encounter with a deranged stalker at her last event though, she had been persuaded to hire a guard for her big outings.

He was to report to the Griffin house at 6:00 AM sharp the next morning so he was going to bed early to make sure he was fully rested. Just as he was sleeping in between the sheets his phone buzzed to alert him that he had a new text message. Unlocking his phone, he had seen a new text from his boss. It had read "Change of plans. Report to this address instead" and then proceeded to list a new address in the downtown part of the city, actually not that far from where he lived. Although he was curious about the change, he didn't press the issue, instead figuring that he would find out everything he needed to know the following day.

It actually worked out in his favor with the change in address. The Griffin house was in an entirely different part of town that would be a good twenty or thirty minute drive depending on traffic. With the new address he was able to get there in under five and therefore relish a few extra minutes with a cup of coffee in his kitchen before leaving.

Still, when he got to the address sent to him the previous night, he was more than a little concerned that there had been a mix-up. The apartment building that he was standing outside was old and crumbling, not exactly falling down, but definitely not a place where a high society girl like Clarke Griffin would be hanging out. The only possible reason Bellamy could come up with as he rang the doorbell and was buzzed in a few minutes later was that perhaps was roughing it with a new boyfriend, trying to live on the wild side for a week or two before returning to her prim and proper existence.

So when Bellamy knocked on the door, he fully expected to hear a male voice calling back to him from the other side. What he did not expect was for the door to fly open and for a frazzled, bleary-eyed Clarke Griffin to be standing there still in her pajama bottoms. "I'm sorry… I'm late! I'm late!" she muttered, ushering Bellamy in and closing the door behind him.

When Bellamy turned around to face his client, she was nowhere to be seen and he instantly panicked. Then a second later when there was a thud and an "I'm okay!" shouted from one of the bedrooms, he was able to relax just a smidge. He took a moment to look at the apartment. It was not much different from his own, scarcely furnished with just the necessities, although this one had a lot more artwork on the walls and more overall color than his own. Bellamy considered taking a seat on the couch, but decided instead to move towards the kitchen where he smelled a pot of coffee brewing and a sizzling noise on the stove.

Almost as if reading his mind, Clarke called from the bedroom, "Help yourself to some coffee! I'll be out in a minute!" Despite his reservations about his client, he was not one to pass up on the caffeine. Bellamy practically lived on the stuff during college and the habit had continued over into his working life. It was not something that he was too keen to break anytime soon.

After finding two empty mugs, he poured himself and then Clarke a cup of coffee, hoping that there really wasn't a boyfriend hanging around anywhere. He really didn't want to have to deal with niceties at that early of an hour. Significant others always seemed to feel the need to tell security how to do their job, as if they would simply not protect their clients if not reminded by over-bearing boyfriends or concerned wives.

When the sizzling on the stove grew louder and Clarke still hadn't reappeared, Bellamy took a cautious step to the stove to find a pan of scrambled eggs and vegetables close to burning. He didn't even hesitate before getting a plate and shoveling the food onto it. After turning off the stove, he leaned against the counter and waited for his client with growing annoyance.

Finally a minute later she emerged, no longer in her pajamas but a pencil skirt and blouse. Her hair had been pulled back and her face was surprisingly bright and vibrant seeing as how she had looked on the edge of sleep just five minutes early when she opened the door.

Upon seeing her breakfast already on the counter, Clarke hummed in appreciation and pulled a fork hastily out of a drawer. Then she leaned against the counter across from Bellamy, plate in hand, and took a bite of her breakfast. Bellamy scooted a mug of coffee in her direction and that was when she actually took more than a second to look at him.

As if just realizing her behavior, she immediately put down her eggs and held out a hand. "Bellamy Blake, right?" Her grip was firm and her face immediately broke out into a smile that Bellamy couldn't help but match.

"Yes," he replied, before thinking over her words and frowning. "Wait… didn't you know who I was when you opened the door? I assumed you had been given a picture of me or something."

Clarke just shook her head and put her attention back on her food. With a start Bellamy realized that she was avoiding his gaze. "No, no picture. I just figured, who else could it have been?" She shrugged her shoulders and glanced back up at her security guard.

Immediately Bellamy straightened up, huffing. "So you just let a stranger in? What if I had been a criminal Miss Griffin?" When he realized that he was yelling, he lowered his voice, but kept his tone firm. She needed to know how serious he was. "Have you not been in this neighborhood before? Especially someone of your place, you should know better than to let your guard down like that."

Instead of agreeing or looking embarrassed as Bellamy had expected, Clarke was suddenly indignant. "I've been living in this neighborhood for three years! And I am careful! I knew you were coming, it was exactly 6:00, and I had a general description of your appearance to go off of."

That time it was Bellamy's turn to duck his head. "Oh, well, when you said that you hadn't seen a picture I just assumed-"

Clarke interjected right away. "You just assumed that I was being careless and an air-headed bimbo?"

Bellamy laughed at that last part, making Clarke's face turn red with anger. "Careless, yes. I would have never called you an air-headed bimbo though." As a peace offering Bellamy picked up the coffee that he had poured for her and held it out.

As Clarke sipped at the hot beverage, it suddenly hit Bellamy that he was arguing with his employer - the person paying his bills, and here he was insulting her and making her angry. Said employer took another sip of her coffee before mumbling something that Bellamy didn't quite catch. "Sorry, what was that?" he asked, trying to keep his tone polite.

Clarke lowered the mug from her mouth. "You may not have called me an air-headed bimbo out loud, but you were thinking it, weren't you?"

Bellamy frowned at that, guilt creeping up on him. Although he hadn't thought those exact words in his head, she was pretty darn close. He chose not to answer her question. Instead, he took a sip of his own coffee and turned around to take another look at the apartment. "So, do you have a friend or boyfriend that lives here or something? I was a little surprised to get the change of address last night."

Behind him, Bellamy heard a huff of annoyance, and then a clatter as Clarke set down her plate and cup. "I told them this was where I lived from the beginning when I called your company. People just never listen."

"You live here?" he asked, surprised not for the first time that day from someone he had thought he knew everything about. With his eyebrows raised, he glanced around the apartment again with a new respect. Obviously reading about someone in a magazine was not the same as knowing them in real life. "What about your parents?"

Clarke slipped past him and walked over to her couch. She plopped down on it and dug underneath until she had retrieved a pair of shiny blue heels. "I haven't lived in that house since I turned eighteen." Sensing his next question, she looked up from her task of putting on her shoes to give an annoyed glare. "The only reason I am having the event there today is because it's free and located within walking distance of the arts center." After putting on her last shoe, she carefully stood up and walked over to Bellamy.

There was a challenging look in her eyes, waiting for him to make some rich girl-poor girl comment probably. Unfortunately for her, Bellamy grew up with a sister and knew when to keep his mouth shut. It was obviously a sore subject for Clarke. With only one look around the room he had seen no pictures of her anywhere, not on a magazine or newspaper cover, not even in a picture frame. Instead what he saw was pictures of everyone else. And when he said everyone, he meant everyone.

"Did you paint all of these yourself?" Bellamy asked, and from the quick change in expression on Clarke's face he knew he had thrown her off. When she just nodded and went back into her bedroom, he called after her, "They're amazing."

When she had reemerged, she had on a simple pea coat, a canvas bag across her shoulders, and a stack of papers in her hand. "Thanks," she remarked quietly before going over to her cabinets and swinging it open. On the top shelf there was a line of thermoses and she reached up to get one. Even in the high heels though she wasn't quite tall enough to get it.

After a few seconds of struggling Bellamy came behind her and retrieved a blue one off the shelf. "Here you go Princess."

"Don't call me that," she bit back, angrily snatching the thermos away from him and moving over to fill it up with coffee.

"Why not?" When she opened her mouth to say something back, he continued. "Oh, you think I called you that because of your family's money? Believe me, if anything I've learned today it's to not judge someone before you meet them. Nah, you're a princess because you've got one heck of a temper."

Clarke eyes widened at his explanation and Bellamy could see the gears working in her head as she considered what he had said. Then she bit her lip and motioned for him to get another thermos from the shelf. When she had filled that one up to the brim and closed the lid, she handed it over to Bellamy.

Bellamy raised it to her in a silent thanks before motioning to the door. "Shall we?"

When they were outside her apartment, Clarke set down her things and locked the door. When she had gathered them all in her hands again and turned back around Bellamy held out a hand to stop her. "Before we leave though, let's just agree on one thing, okay?"

Rolling her eyes, Clarke chuckled. "And what's that Mr. Blake?"

"How about we agree that you don't open your doors to strangers anymore unless it's me?"

Clarke tried to fight back a smile and lost. "I'll do my best."

"That's all I ask Princess."

This turned out way different than I originally intended. More fluffy and less plot definitely. I might revisit this plot bunny later, but I also may not.

AU obviously.

Let me know what you think! There was minimal editing and no beta on this. I simply wrote it, did a spell check, and posted it.