fools x tony stonem [completed]

fourteen

I fell asleep in England, and when I woke up, I was in Russia.

I was seated on the plane next to Chris, who was kind enough to let me use his shoulder to rest my head on while I slept. He was reading from a nudie magazine, and when I saw the tent in his pants, I made an audible noise of disgust.

"Rise and shine, sleeping beauty," Chris tells me. "You know you drool when you sleep?"

I lift my head groggily from his shoulder, my face becoming flustered when I see the drool stains I had left on his camo-tank top. He doesn't seem to mind though, flipping through the pages of big boobied girls.

Chris and I were sitting in front of Tony and Sid, with Tony directly seated behind me. Before I decided to take a nap, Tony was using me as his form of entertainment by kicking the back of my seat, trying to get a reaction out of me. He certainly did, multiple times, and seeing as I'm awake again, he starts back up with his antics.

He delivers a powerful kick, sending my seat jolting forwards, the seatbelt that I wore being the only thing keeping me from hitting my head on Maxie's seat in front of me.

I turn around quick, glaring at him through the crack between Chris and I's chairs.

"Tony, I swear to god," I warn between clenched teeth.

He looks at me with a playful glint in his eye. I turn back around with an aggravated huff.

During me and Tony's quick exchange, Chris had gotten out a life vest, the ones the flight attendants tell you not to take out unless its an emergency, and he puts it around his neck. He starts blowing the whistle rather obnoxiously, and is told by multiple of our classmates to shut the hell up. He does with a frown.

"Okay. everyone. Listen up," Tom, our history teacher and chaperone for the trip, begins.

"I want you all to remember that this is not a holiday, okay? This is your chance to nail your module one history coursework. Post-Soviet industrial Russia."

Everyone groans.

"Now, this isn't just education, yeah?" He continues. "It's total education."

"Total piss up," Maxxie calls out, earning a chorus of laughs from the rest of us.

"No, no, no, no. There'll be no 'piss up', okay?" Tom feels the need to clarify. "We're gonna be working hard, understanding the culture and history of Mokshovkov in the Mordovian Republic of the Russian Federation."

"I think he's made some of them words up," Chris cluelessly whispers to me. I snicker.

"We're gonna see the real Russia, yeah?" Tom keeps going. "The wild and desolate land that Napoleon and Hitler failed to tame. This is adventure, yeah! This is living, breathing history! Who's with me?"

No one raises their hand, except for an old man that sits at the back of the plane.

"Thank you, sir." Tom says, beginning to sit back down next to Angie. "But I was addressing history students only,"

"An, An," Chris begins whispering to Anwar who sits in front of him. "Where'd you hide the drugs then?"

The muslim boy looks at him with confusion all over his face. "I don't have any. I thought you were bringing them."

"No. You were gonna put them in your turban," Chris explains.

"I don't wear a turban, Chris."

Tony, having been listening in on their conversation, announces that he has a backup plan. He looks over to Sid, and the poor boy's crouched over in his seat, his face scrunched up with pain.