Obama x Putin x John Cena x Shia LaBeouf

The Call

He sat there, rubbing the sweat off his forehead. The chair squeaked in the quiet, tiny room.
"This chair, not comfortable. " he said in his thick, sorta manly Russian accent. He tapped the black microphone hanging from a metal rod going through the wall, and he heard in his earpiece a man tell him not to do that. He sighed and put his hands back on his lap, wiping the sweat on his pant legs. He heard murmurs outside the door, and it click slightly. Putin's head shot up in reaction and his right foot began tapping slightly as he waited for the door to unveil who was behind it. It creaked open, and Obama walked in. Putin scoughed slightly at the sight of him. His tie was crooked. Putin gestured to the fake leather seat with metal bars in front of him, and Obama sat down.
"Hello, Mr. Putin. " he said.
"Privet, Mr. Obama. How are ze kids?" Putin asked, feeling less stressed once a conversation could be started.
"Good. The girls' grades have been high, I'm very proud of them."
"Good, good." Putin said, and raised his eyes to make eye contact with Barack. His eyes were such a deep brown. Like the wrapper on a Reese's peanut butter cup everyone forgets about. Obama was already looking at Putin, and Putin blushed a small bit. He seemed to signal something to Obama with his hands, and suddenly Obama whipped around and locked the only door into the windowless room, and barricaded it. At the same time, Putin broke the microphone he had poked earlier and took a piece of the chair that had been broken for weeks to smash all cameras in the room. They turned out the lights and embraced each other.
"I've missed you, so much-" Barack whispered into Vladimir's ear.
"Da, I know. I missed jou too, моя любовь(my love)." Vlad whispered back and lightly kissed Barack on the forehead. They both jolted as they heard pounding on the door.
"Our love just can't be, Vlad. We are the forbidden love story, the only place we can be together is in death-" Putin placed his index finger over Baracks lips, silencing him.
"Woh, don't say stuff like zhat. Zhat's weird. " Putin told him, and he guided Barack towards a corner of the room as the pounding on the door got louder. After what seemed like forever, it became quiet. They thought they heard murmurs say something about reinforcements, and Putin squeezed Obama closer to him and lead him under a table. Then, just outside the door, they heard a familiar voice yelling a phrase, although slightly different, was very familiar. Too familiar. All they heard was,
"JUST DO IT, MY LOVE!!" And a large puff of debris and a loud crash followed pounding footsteps towards the once-barricaded door. They could have sworn they heard blow horns in the distance, and once the debris in the air settled, Obama knew exactly who it was.
"Cena..." He whispered.