Fluffy Phan Oneshots

Phanbama Part 2: Obama Returns

Obama

Listen here you little shits, today is President's day, and as someone who has recently finished both terms, and my successor is a giant soggy fucking cheeto puff assfuck, I'm a little salty. I don't even know if that's a phrase kids use still, but I frankly don't give a fuck. They told me that once I leave the White House I can't do anymore presidential work, but fuck that shit; America needs me. And today, so does Britain. So here I am, on a regular fucking plane, not Air Force One, breathing in the same air some asshole just farted in, and hating my life. It's been two years since my last visit to England, and those Dan and Phil dudes were absolutely no help at all, considering once I went to the bathroom they started making out, as if I was there for fun, and not on a mission. This time better be different or I'm gonna deck them, I don't care- it's not like I'm president anymore.

Once I finally landed in England, I made sure to be as discreet as possible catching a ride to the palace. I decided on an Uber. Twenty minutes later, and Chad is speeding off to the palace. I scoff at every obnoxiously British thing I pass, reaching for the mini American flag in my pocket so I don't forget where I'm from. Chad is chattering away, not even looking back. Listen Chad, I don't care about the most touristy places, I'm here for one job and one job only: to avoid those emo boyfriends.

Chad drops me off a block or so from the palace, earning him a four star rating instead of the five I was going to give him. What kind of asshat doesn't drop you off at the gates? I don't care about security- I'm Barack fucking Obama. I get out of the Uber and start walking to the palace, hoping I don't get too sweaty from the walk. I take out my cell phone and dial the Queen. She answers on the third ring.

"Oh hello dear, I was worried you were going to be late. Are you at the gates?" she sounds soft and composed, like a grandmother, but I also know she won't hesitate to kick the living shit out of me. 

"Not yet. My Uber driver dropped me off a block away like the moron he is."

"Unacceptable. Did you give him a one star rating?"

"No, a four. He was nice and let me take over the aux chord, so it's okay." I picked up my pace, eyeing the large palace in front of me. "Anyway, I'm nearly here, so can you open the gates or something?"

"Yes, just text me when you're at the gates, and I'll open them. See you soon."

I hung up and made my way through the flock of tourists, hoping none of them will try to follow me into the palace. I finally made my way up to the gate, sending the Queen a quick text, and soon enough two guards are walking out of the palace and towards me. I send a quick prayer to every deity out there that it's not those Dan and Phil dudes, and someone was listening, because it wasn't them. They let me through the gates then do a very thorough check, making sure I'm really Obama and that I'm not going to kill anyone, blah blah blah. I roll my eyes during the pat down and finally gain entrance to the palace. The two guards lead me into some sort of meeting room where I sit and wait for the Queen.

Everything is going swell until I hear it again.

"Hey look, Obama's back."

I grit my teeth and take a deep breath, hoping they'll just ignore me and walk away. They don't. Instead they walk right into the motherfucking room, and offer their hands, as if we're old pals catching up. I stand up and shake their hands because I don't want to be rude, but I really don't want them here. Last time, all they did was stick their tongues down each other's throats. Instead they sit on the couch across from the arm chair I chose. They practically sit on top of each other they're so close.

"Are you here for the meeting with the Queen too?" the one with blue eyes asks. I think he was Phil, but I'm not completely sure. The other boy, Dan presumably, pokes Phil in the side.

"Phil, of course he's here to meet with the Queen, what else would he be doing here?

So I got their names right. Go me.

"To see us again, obviously," Phil replied, rolling his eyes and his boyfriend, or maybe fiance or husband? I don't know, they're both wearing rings, but I don't care.

"Top secret, I can't tell," I say, hoping that they'll leave me alone. They don't. I want to die. 

They keep making small talk, and I couldn't care less. They got married and the Queen came to the wedding, they got a dog, they're doing well, they're like bffs with the Queen, yada yada yada, I don't give a shit. I get up to go to the restroom, wondering why the Queen is running late.

I wash my hands then dry them on the softest towel I've ever touched. I make my way back to the waiting room and I find those motherfuckers at it again, just making out, as if the Queen and I couldn't walk in on them any given second. For fucks sake guys, keep it in your fucking pants. I roll my eyes and walk out of the doorway, walking straight out of the palace and finding my next Uber to take me to the airport to get the fuck out of this country.

(A/N: hello friends happy President's day {whatever that means} and I hope you enjoy this. If you're confused, don't worry- we all are. I wrote the first part like two years ago it's one of the first chapters in this lil one shot book it's just called "Phanbama" if you wanna go give it a read. To this day, it's still the funniest thing I've ever written and it always makes me laugh. This is a little continuation because I don't know what I want to write fluff-wise, but Obama is always a good bet. Also, this is all completely satirical, and not meant to be taken seriously. Hope you laughed at least a little bit. I'll be back with fluff soon ish.)