fools x tony stonem [completed]

nineteen

Tony Stonem arrives at my house exactly at 8, sporting a few bruises on his face.

"Michelle got you good," I note, stepping outside to meet him.

"That was Michelle," he points to the one on his cheek. "This was Sid," he points to the more prominent one around his eye.

I lock the door behind me, as Minnie was home by herself.

"Good on him," I say, admiring the bruise that Sid had left, which was probably well deserved. "I didn't know Sid had it in him."

The two of us make our way down the road, but I make sure to keep my distance, choosing to walk a little bit behind him with my hands shoved in the pockets of my coat. Just because I had agreed to go on this "date" or whatever the hell it was, doesn't mean that I would enjoy. I didn't even have a choice, unless I wanted Michelle to know about me snogging her then-boyfriend in Russia. 

"You look nice," he tells me.

"No I don't," I say back. I wore tattered jeans, an old t-shirt, and hadn't even bothered to do my hair, so it sat in tangles on my head. I figured maybe if I looked homeless, he would change his mind about being attracted to me. But then again, Tony Stonem would probably fuck anything with female genitalia and a heartbeat.

We keep walking, long enough for me to ask, "where we going?"

"I honestly have no clue," he tells me. "I didn't think I would get this far."

I scoff. "Well obviously I was gonna go out with you Tony, considering you pretty much threatened my relationship with Michelle and the others if I didn't."

He looks back at me, a dark eyebrow raised.

"Did you really think I would tell Michelle what happened between us?"

I raise my eyebrow back.

"Okay, you're right. I probably would've told," he's quick to agree with me. "But I was just expecting you to slam the door on my face when I knocked on your front door."

Considering Tony didn't know where we were headed, we decide to keep walking until we found something to do. That led us to the FishPonds Tavern, an old, run down pub, with a chipped red door and broken sign. With nothing else to do, we headed inside. 

A middle aged woman with box dyed blonde hair and a glittery top sat behind the bar, drying glasses before setting them on shelves. A few men played pool in the next room over, including an older man in a Hawaiian shirt with gold chains around his neck. He looked at us as we entered.

"Welcome, Kiddos," he greeted us with open arms. "Take a seat anywhere you'd like."

"Thanks sir," I tell him.

He scoffs. "Sir? It's Uncle Keith, love."

I nod, trying to give him a friendly smile, but Tony grabs me by my bicep and leads me to the bar, where we take our seats on the rickety old stools. A kid, looking no more than 14, sips a beer at the far end of the bar, and when he see's me looking at him, he raises the pint in his hand.

"Fooking cheers," the boy slurs with a toothy smile. "Uncle Keith's a legend!"

He proceeds to down the rest of his pint, before drunkenly falling out of his chair and to the dirty floor. Keith's quick to pick the boy off the ground, helping him to his feet.

"Okay, that's enough for you, Cook," he says, ushering the drunk boy to the exit door while sweeping the dust of the boys back. "Get on home now, son."