Title: Running Late

Characters/Pairings: Bradley James, Colin Morgan

Rating: K+

Summary: Colin is late to the NTAs, but Bradley has always been good about sharing.

A/N: Written for the prompt with Bradley and Colin sharing a seat at the NTAs. I couldn't find much information on this, and only vaguely knew about the story, so apologies for any inaccuracies….this is fiction after all ;) I'm contemplating a Merthur fic at the moment, but would welcome any prompts for this series, as I'm enjoying writing the hotel oneshots. Also, a shameless plug for a fellow author…. The Dollop Head Who Waited is a 9 year fangirl, whose Merlin and Brolin stories make me laugh til I cry. If you want to read the most innocent, over-the-top bromance fics of all time, head over to her page and check out her work, and leave an encouraging review for a budding writer. The next generation of fanfiction is in good hands!

Disclaimer: To my unending despair, I don't own Merlin, or Colin or Bradley. These events are, of course, complete and utter fiction from my weird, wee brain. As usual, written as non-slash.

The phone began vibrating in his hip pocket, and Colin pulled it out disinterestedly, setting it on the small table in the corner without a glance. The young man resumed his pacing of the too-small hotel room, glimpsing his pallid reflection in the ornate mirror suspended on the wall. Forget "pasty Irish boy", he was decidedly green. He continued his tread across the room, shaking his head as the internal dialogue commenced.

There was no way he was going tonight. He hated red carpets with a passion, and the thought of all those people, however beloved his fans were, had kept him off his food all day. Ignoring the rumble of hunger in his stomach, he pivoted on one heel and strode in the other direction. Besides, what if by some off chance, he actually won! All those eyes….a theatre full of people waiting to hear him speak, and no character role for him to lose himself in and forget the audience's presence. He'd probably reel like a drunken sod from his vision darkening, or worse, lose his sick all over the stage.

Colin began to hyperventilate at the image, and forced himself to calm down, taking slow, deep breaths. This was just foolishness – of course he wasn't going to win. He was up for the award against seasoned, phenomenal actors who had been plying their craft for years, years while he was still traveling back and forth to Belfast on a bus. He quickly blushed that he would even have entertained the idea of being awarded the Bafta, although a little voice inside his head, that sounded suspiciously like a certain Bradley James, whispered, You deserve it and you know it.

The young actor shook his head. He did not need Bradley's voice chiming in to the confusion. Glancing at the alarm clock on the bedside stand, the wrinkles on the young forehead smoothed. It was too late; the programme had already started. He could blame it on the delayed flight from Dublin. With a sigh of finality, Colin circled back to the table and scooped up his phone to check his messages.

Hey, mate, congratulations and best of luck tonight! Looking forward to seeing u again.

The Irish lad closed his eyes briefly. Bradley. Although he had not admitted it to himself up til now, this was an even more compelling reason not to go to the NTAs that evening. He opened his eyes again, pushing back against the memories that were threatening to invade his thoughts.

After Merlin had wrapped, Bradley had been true to his word, keeping the promise he had made almost a year ago. The English actor had called and texted frequently, checking on his friend, trying to stay updated on Colin's career and the goings-on in his life. But it had hurt, terribly, waking up every morning and arriving at his call-time, knowing the grinning, ridiculously juvenile blonde would not be there, ready to share a joke or a chuckle at the expense of their co-stars. He had missed his friend - too much - and Colin had done what every good introvert did well; he had withdrawn and pulled away, finding a swift, clean break less painful than the homesickness and pining for a friendship that had burrowed its way into his heart irrevocably.

At first, Bradley had been persistent, sending texts and voicemail despite their being unanswered. His messages had sounded increasingly concerned for his friend's well-being, before he eventually sent Eoin and Rupert after the former colleague. With one final bid, Bradley had sicced Katie on the lad (and wasn't that dirty pool!) before giving up any further attempts at communication, and for the last seven months, a deafening, hurtful silence had stretched between the two. Colin could still feel the pull, though, the tug to be with his best friend again and fall back into their easy ways, and he suspected that if he saw his best mate tonight, it would be his undoing. Some scars were simply best left undisturbed, and the thought of re-visiting those memories of the past few years terrified the young Irish lad more than he cared to admit.

Laying the mobile back down on the table, he huffed in disgust at himself, and kicked off the shiny dress shoes he had worn. There was no way he was going tonight. He must have been mental to even consider it. He flipped the television set on randomly, and moved to the wardrobe, fidgeting with his shirt buttons as he did so.

Tugging at his bow tie, the boy's head suddenly jerked up, hearing his own voice in Merlin's accent. An advertisement for a re-broadcast of the series finale was playing on the screen. The lad paused for a moment, watching the well-known faces flash across the telly, then lowered his hand slowly from the tie. The young man bowed his head in shame. He owed it to Julian, and Johnny, and, well…. to other people, to at least show up tonight, even if he didn't win the award. Squaring his jaw firmly, he slid his stockinged feet back into his shoes, and reached to the bed for his black jacket.

Bradley sat on the end seat near the aisle, willing his fingers not to bounce nervously. The bloody idiot. He must have decided not to come, after all. The English lad ignored the somewhat worrisome level of disappointment welling in his chest (which would've been telling, if he chose to examine it closer), and pulled his mobile out of his jacket pocket.

Colin Morgan, you bugger. Don't you DARE skip out on this…..

He slumped back in resignation. It didn't matter, as Colin hadn't acknowledged any of his texts for quite some time; and Bradley knew better than anyone, when Colin Morgan ran to ground, nothing was pulling him back into the limelight. He leaned his head forward, as Rupert mumbled something to him, and he nodded his head, without the slightest idea of what he was agreeing to.

A voice cleared its throat politely, and Bradley looked up, startled as the usher stood closely at his elbow. His eyes traveled past the man, and widened at the lad waiting behind him. A grin split the blonde's face. "Colin!" he exclaimed elatedly, not caring that his voice had risen in pitch.

His colleague managed a small, nervous grin, awkwardly shifting from one foot to the other, painfully aware of the eyes drawn to him while he waited for a seat. The usher stared confusedly at the full row of attendees, and glanced back at the boy, unsure what to do. Bradley looked back at the stricken young man, his face paling by the second as he stood in the aisle for all the world to view, and knew he needed to act quickly, before his friend turned and ran.

"Budge over, Rupert," he called out softly, scooting in his seat to make additional space. "Have a seat, Morgan, you barely take up any room as it is."

The slight lad hesitated for a moment, then gratefully sank down onto the chair, his face blushing furiously.

"Th-thanks," he stammered, not ready to meet the other's gaze.

"So, how you been, Cols?" Bradley questioned breezily, working to keep his voice even and casual. "Ouch!" His carefully planned words were cut off by a quick outcry. "Geez, Colin, watch those skinny little hips of yours!"

"Sorry, sorry" Colin muttered, trying to scoot over without falling completely off the chair. He lifted his sapphire eyes, suddenly dancing with mischief. "it's only… your fat butt doesn't leave me much room."

Bradley threw back his head to laugh loudly, the tension in the air lessening considerably. "Well, this will hit the internet by the end of the night," he said, shifting to settle more comfortably on his half of the seat. "Will make for some great fodder for the fangirls."

"Yeah," Colin snorted, the tight feeling easing in his chest as they fell back into their old banter. "Colin Morgan and boyfriend cuddle at the NTAs."

Bradley began to chuckle again, then abruptly stopped. "And boyfriend?" His forehead wrinkled in a mock frown. "Is that all I am now…. and boyfriend? Don't I even get a name?"

Colin shrugged nonchalantly, raising one eyebrow. How easy this was. "Fame, man. It's a fickle thing."

Bradley's face twitched, fighting back a grin. "Well, if Tumblr is to be believed…. I mean, it's on the internet – it must be true!"

Colin took advantage of the pause to elbow his seat-mate in the ribs in revenge. "Daft eejit…" he muttered threateningly, and his friend continued laughing, drawing him into the mirth. A pointed look from Johnny, and the two actors sobered, quietly shaking as they attempted to restrain their chortles.

Bradley bent to the right, answering a question from Eoin, and the Irishman leaned back, his arm brushing up against his friend. How could he have forgotten? This was where he had drawn his strength from. Not in busying himself in work-addicted projects, but in friendship and camaraderie. He leaned slightly into the touch of his friend, the recent dull ache balanced out by a sense of contentment. Colin waited silently, all nervousness forgotten, as he listened to Bradley and Eoin's hilarious, snide comments about the other contending programmes up for awards.

The apprehension returned full-force, however, as the NTA presenter introduced the nominees for Best Actor. The lad, now sitting in his own seat next to Bradley, looked down at his trembling hands in his lap. It would be fine, because there was no possibility he could have won, and he tried to convince himself that this was what he hoped for. Suddenly, they were calling his name, and Bradley's arm had pulled him down into a half-hug, his other hand pounding away at Colin's chest in his excitement.

The Irishman somehow made it to the platform in disbelief, and accepted the award, his mouth suddenly dry. Ever the actor, Colin's eyes roamed the theatre hall with a smile plastered on his visage, but he was only aware of one face in the crowd, a face with a beaming smile and eyes that glistened suspiciously. Ending his speech quickly, Colin disappeared backstage to wait for press photos and post-show interviews.

With a heady feeling of elation at his friend's success, Bradley sat through the remainder of the awards ceremony, enjoying his costars' snarky asides, but missing the banter with his best mate. As the ceremony neared its end, he pulled his phone out again, and quickly thumbed a text.

Where r u?

The reply came swiftly.

Back at the hotel.

Bradley shook his head, disappointment flitting across his face.

You're going to the after-party tho?

Are you mad?!

The English boy rolled his eyes, then huffed. The party would have been fun, and he was fairly certain there would have been a vast assortment of pretty girls to flirt with. He briefly shot off another message.

Fine. We're still celebrating. Meet u at the pub across from your hotel in half an hour.

Bradley waited with held breath until his phone vibrated. One word.

Ok

He grinned, slipping the mobile back into his pocket. Someone was due for a severe talking-to about disappearing acts; then all the jumbled pieces of his world that had been so out of sorts for the past year, would fall back into place again. Ignoring the calls from Rupert and Tom, he hurried outside, motioning for a taxi.