The Merry Men Masquerade

3. The Merry Men

 Three loud claps, and all heads turned to their leader.

"I would like to raise a toast," he said over the rumble of the tracks beneath them. "First and foremost: to me."

Any other day, Ronan would have rolled his eyes, but he hadn't stopped smiling since they'd crashed the cargo train. And what a way to end the night – a perfectly timed jump with no room for error, the shouts of his comrades as they landed and rolled (and in some cases slammed) onto the aluminum floor of the compartment. A final rush to close out what could have been a disastrous heist, and now, the six of them, together in the afterglow.

So Ronan indulged his ego with a bubbling laugh, raised one closed fist, and shouted, "To Vito!"

Meeting his enthusiasm came a chorus of cheers: "To Robin Hood!"

Vito was laughing as he stood, beaming bright enough to catch the light of the moon through the open wall of the car. "I'm only joking, of course," he said. Long-escaped strands of hair whipped over his cheeks and clung to his forehead. He steadied himself against the bumps in the tracks with one hand pressed to the wall, and with the other, he raised an imaginary chalice. "A toast to the man with knuckles of steel, for coming to our rescue and knocking the unforgiving fuck out of that watchdog. To Sidney Mitchell!"

The compartment erupted in cheers and applause that drowned out the wind. Mitch made a self-satisfied show of basking in the praise before he gave into the excitement with a holler, pounding his fist into his own chest.

"To my beloved little sister, Antonella Romano," Vito continued, placing a hand atop her head where she sat at his side. She took a break from unbraiding her hair to swat him away and glare at the use of her name. Vito was undeterred. "For supplying the night's costumes and robbing the bedsheets out from under those aristocrats!"

"I didn't steal any bedsheets," Tony muttered at his feet, but her voice was effectively overwhelmed by five cries of, "To Whiplash!"

Make-believe glasses were raised. Tony returned to combing her fingers through her hair.

"To Felix Ashley!" Vito yelled. Mitch howled like a wolf, and Ronan slammed Felix in the back so many times, the poor boy toppled forward onto his hands. "The smartest person in any room, and the granter of our every wish. Twice, this kid saved our asses!"

Felix stared bashfully down at his lap, sweat from the run glimmering against dark skin. Ronan opted for a gentler pat to his back and was rewarded with an embarrassed smile.

Vito raised his arm again. "To our very own skeleton key, for getting us in and out of that cursed house and securing an epic getaway ride: to Ronan Hastings!"

Ronan's answering laugh turned into a wheeze when Felix returned the favor and knocked the wind out of him.

"God knows we'd never get far without you," Vito said as he crouched in front of Ronan. He reached out to vigorously ruffle his hair, and his hand came back dusted black. Judging by the pleased smile on his face, he'd removed most of the charcoal, revealing the tuft of white hair at Ronan's widows' peak.

It was a sad thing, for Ronan to lose his voice over an action that could only be described as brotherly. He cursed the shape of Vito's lips, cursed the squeeze in his chest, cursed the ghost of long fingers against his scalp.

"Moron," he grumbled. More than anything, he cursed himself for his weakness, for the smile he found himself fighting despite the tightness in his throat. "We aren't in the clear yet."

His hair was too identifying a feature to leave uncovered during a heist, and they were still a ways from home.

"Then I'll join you, and we can go down together, hm?"