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Five Finger Death Punch	By : mmarc56 Category: Celebrities - Misc > Slash - Male/Male Views: 1552 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not know Five Finger Death Punch or any of its members, this story is a work of fiction, and I made no money writing it.

Chapter List
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Chapter Two: Curiosity

Something about Chris Kael was so appealing to Ivan. He found himself eyeing him frequently when they were together with the band and every now and then was caught in the act. He’d flick his eyes away quickly and pretend that he hadn’t been staring, but he knew Chris knew he had been. He wanted to be close to him, which only caused him to keep his distance, always standing near the bandmate furthest away from him and doing his best to avoid speaking to him directly. He didn’t know why he behaved this way, because he knew that the bassist probably thought he didn’t want to be associated with him anymore. That wasn’t true, but Ivan didn’t know how to let him know that.

Finally, Chris snapped one day, despite the singer not knowing he had been on the verge of it. He approached him before band practice as everyone was waiting around for Zoltan, who was stuck in Las Vegas traffic, and grabbed his arm. “Can I talk to you?” He asked harshly, but it wasn’t a question that needed an answer; the older man pulled the singer outside when the others weren’t looking and though being handled in such a manner pissed Ivan off, he allowed himself to be brought along.

Once outside, he jerked his arm free and cursed as Chris said sternly, “What the hell’s wrong with you?”

“What the hell’s wrong you?!” Ivan retorted, referring to the nerve he displayed in pulling him around like he was his bitch.

“Why the hell won’t you talk to me?!” He asked louder than before, his eyes ablaze with a fire that had surely been kindling over the span of time Ivan had ignored him. The singer didn’t answer as he anxiously scanned his environment for any listeners or onlookers. “Ivan!” Chris slapped his arm to get his attention, causing his eyes to snap back at him with an animalistic fierceness and his hands to tighten up like he was ready to strike. “I asked you a–”

“Don’t fucking hit me!” He shouted over the bassist.

“I hardly–”

“Shut it!”

“Ivan!”

“What?!” Ivan’s voice was loud enough now to cause Chris to anxiously check for an on-looking audience too and drop his voice to a coarse whisper.

“Why won’t you talk to me?”

“I—” Ivan felt stuck and he quickly looked around again for a way out. He didn’t know how to explain himself and this caused him a great deal of stress that was not at all appeased by Chris’s yelling.

“Ivan, just—” The bassist cut himself off and his hands twitched in a paranoid jitter. “Do you hate me or something now? Like, what’s going on with us?” His voice was now pleading and disconcerted.

“I don’t— man, just—” Ivan struggled to find the right words. “What do you want from me?”

“I wanna know if you hate me!” He exclaimed with a grasping gesture. “Why haven’t you been talking to me?”

“What’s it matter?!” The singer responded, displaying anger because it was the easiest emotion for him to express – much easier than whatever he was feeling at least, that was for sure.

“What, you just,” Chris dropped his voice low, “kiss me and then you want nothing to do with me?”

“What do you want from me?” Ivan said with exaggerated emphasis and downward gestures.

The two men looked at each other with wide, disbelieving eyes and open mouths like they were looking at the stupidest person they’d ever met. Chris then straightened his back, threw up his hands, and turned around. “You know what! Fuck it!” He headed for the door. “Be a little piss-baby if you wanna be.”

“Hey!” Ivan took off after him and grabbed his shoulder, turning him around.

“What?!” Chris snapped, a fleck of spit flying from his mouth to Ivan’s face. He noticed this and showed the briefest expression of embarrassed surprise. The singer wiped his cheek and looked up at him, but he couldn’t think of anything to say, so the two of them sustained their eye contact until Chris looked away and shook his head. “What?” he asked gently.

“What do you want, Chris?” Ivan asked and as soon as he did the bassist raised his head up and his voice rose again.

“Would you shut the fuck—?”

“Chris, stop!” Ivan interrupted him. “I’m serious. Do you want me to,” his voice slowed down, “what? Kiss you again?” He could that familiar heat begin burning in his pants, but Chris did nothing but stare at him blankly. “I thought that was just a one-time thing,” he went on tenderly, “So what do you want from me?”

The older man hesitated as he rolled his shoulders and looked out into the parking lot. His eyes looked distressed and uncomfortable. “Just a little… I just… want you to talk to me,” he mumbled a little something more that Ivan couldn’t understand.

“Just need a little attention?” Ivan asked sensitively, raising his hand to the bassist’s beard again. He stroked it close to his mouth and watched him melt under his touch. “Yeah… you’re okay…” he said in a low, soothing voice.

From the corner of his eye he saw a black sports car pull into the parking lot and he stepped away from the bassist. The car parked next to Jason’s and Zoltan step out after the engine quieted. He circled around the vehicle, removed a guitar and a bundle of cables from the trunk, and then turned around and spotted the two men.

“Yo, what’s up?” He called as he approached them. Ivan nodded at him. Once he was closer he asked, “The others inside?”

“Yep,” Chris answered.

“Alright,” Zoltan nodded, “You all coming inside or what?”

“Give us a second,” Ivan told him, and the guitarist shrugged after a moment of confused silence before heading inside. The singer turned to the bassist once they were alone again and asked, “Are we alright?”

“Ivan, I— I’m really confused,” he confessed, “You kissed me and I kept thinking about it, and I don’t know what to do. I just want— I don’t know…” he muttered the ending and cast his eyes away in shame.

“Are you… interested in me, or just curious?” He questioned coyly, twisting his fingers in his hands.

“No, I— well—” He exhaled and started over, “I’m not gay, I’m just,” he paused, “curious, yeah…”

“About what?” Ivan asked with extreme caution. He then started an “s” sound to prompt Chris to answer his unspoken question.

Chris caught on and immediately looked taken aback. “No!” he said, suspending the word in exaggerated denial. “Just, uh…” he thought for a second and then answered with a shy smile, “I guess I just want a little attention is all.” Ivan raised his eyebrows and felt his heart flutter. “Like, cuddling or something – I don’t know,” he added quickly, pulling back from his comment. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Nah, I mean,” the singer shrugged his shoulders and pursed his lips briefly, “Just wanna know, huh? Just wanna spend some personal time… with a man,” he said the last part awkwardly and immediately coughed because of it.

“I—I don’t want to be weird or anything,” Chris stammered quickly. He closed his eyes like he was in pain and said, “Just forget about it, alright? It doesn’t matter.”

“No, it’s fine—”

“Just forget about it, okay? Just forget I said anything. Let’s not ruin this.”

“Ruin wh—?”

“Ivan!” He said shortly, “I don’t wanna talk about it anymore. Just forget it. Please.”

“I’ll cuddle with you, man—”

“Ivan! No! I don’t want to, okay? I just want this whole everything to drop. Let’s never do anything a—”

“Maybe I want to,” the singer said. This finished their back-and-forth and left the two of them staring at each other once more, and Ivan kept his eyes steely and serious so the older man knew he meant what he said. “Maybe I want to hold you, kiss you,” he said with the out-of-place, underlying tone of a threat, “What’s it matter?” Chris opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out: he was dumbstruck. “Be honest with me, Chris. Do you want to do something again?”

The bassist made a flabbergasted expression and exhaled loudly, “I don’t know! Okay?!” He shrugged at the singer and scoffed. “I don’t really wanna be gay. I don’t want to be curious either – and if I am,” his tone changed, “I don’t wanna act on it!”

Ivan was suddenly flooded with a passionate, chagrined anger and after a brief pause in their dialogue he snapped, “Fine!” loudly. “Forget about it then! Don’t you ever come to me for ANYTHING AGAIN!” He then stormed past the older man into the building, shoving him with his shoulder, and flung the door open.

“Ivan! What the hell?” Chris called after him, but he didn’t turn back to acknowledge him.

Their bandmates looked bewildered upon the singer’s thunderous entrance, but just as Jason was getting ready to speak, Ivan told them all to shut their mouths and mind their own business. He grabbed the microphone and commanded that they all pick up their instruments, and then the band – not willing to speak out against him – commenced a very angry, very difficult rehearsal.
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Five Finger Death Punch