Chapter one -American horror story fanfic chapter one- Usually when you hear of a distant family trying to get a hold of you, you're somewhat happy and somewhat curious and hesitant. Happy, because well, you have more family and they want to get to know you. Curious and hesitant because you probably ask yourself how did they find you, and are they really a part of your family? Quintus Marcellin asked himself the same question as the black tinted window limo pulled up in front of the orphanage.
Two purple suit cases stood next to him on top of the concrete steps as the vehicle stopped. To be honest with himself, he was scared out of his mind, his father had left him abandon at the innocent age of eight, and now exactly nine years later, his father's brother, his uncle was coming to claim him. A man with brown slicked back hair exited the driver side door and walked up to Quintus. "Are you Quintus Rose Marcellin?" He asked, his voice deep a baritone. He simply nodded his head. The man returned the nod with one of his own and walked passed him into the front lobby of the orphanage. The headmaster of the house was standing there waiting for the arrival and quickly, without hesitation handed over the files and any other paper work on Quintus. Quintus, or Quinn as the other kids called him, stood still on the porch, well somewhat.
Being a dance choreographer, his body was always moving some way. Like right now, his fingers drummed against his jean cladded legs as he waited for the man to come back out. Once he did, manilla folder in hand, he ordered Quinn to follow him. Scrabbling around with his suit cases for a moment, he finally was able to grab the two and follow the man to the awaiting limo. The serious looking man opened the door for him and Quinn thanked him as he got in. Another man appeared, dressed in the same suit as the brown hair man, only his was blonde, his hair was also slicked back. The blonde took both of Quinn's suitcases and put them in back, while the man from before shut the door. He watched from behind the tinted window as both men walked to the front of the limo, got in and started the engine and pulled away from the place called home for the last nine years.
It wasn't until they reached the end of the street did he realize that he wasn't the only person in the back part of the limo. A harsh cough directed his attention away from the view outside the window, to inside the limo a few feet away from him. An old man sat, reclined back in the black seat, a cane in one hand and a glass of some sort of alcohol in the other. "Quintus, my boy, you've really have grown up." The man said. Quinn gave the man a wry smile in response. "Ya' look just your gypsy of a mother, with that ridiculous hair and ya damn eyes. God I really did wish you took more so after your father." His uncle grumbled. From what Quintus could remember when he was little, and still living in Europe, before his father had taken him away from his mother, the two families didn't like each other. His mother was full blooded Greek, and danced wherever she could in the country side of Greece for a living.
She had very light beautiful olive skin and enchanting green eyes with dark oak shoulder length hair, that were usually twirled into thick curls. Sometimes she'd even have beads weaved into braids in her hair. Dancing one day in the country side was when she met his father. The way it was told to him as a child, his father seemed like some descendent of royalty from Germany. He had blonde hair, blue eyes, and pale skin. Sometimes Quinn wondered if his father's side of family was somewhat involved with hitler long ago, but kept that to himself. "I'm sorry, but my genetic make up isn't something-" "Well at least you got your father's brains. From looking at your high school test scores; it's promising." His uncle cut in. Quinn was silent for a moment, simply staring at his only living, breathing family member. His own pale green eyes looked down at the red carpeted floor of the limo and sighed inwardly. "For now, you are going to live in one of the many houses our family owns in California." His uncle said, as the limo took a turn. Originally, when his father took him America they stayed in Boston. And Quinn absolutely loved in there. But since his father abandon him, the orphanage he was left at had sent him, and a few other children to there house in California since there were too many children for the single house to care for. And Quinn hated the heat of the summertime here.
Quinn simply nodded to his uncle. For roughly a minute silence placed itself between the two men. It was suddenly broken when his uncle started a rough, coughing laugh. "No need to be so quite, we're going to get to know each other very vell." His German accent slipping through. "R-Right." Quinn said softly. "So, Quintus, any hobbies you picked up? How about sport at school? Clubs? You must be doing something to keep in shape, I can see those muscles from under that flimsy thing you call a shirt." His uncle said. Quinn gave a tiny forced laugh. No way was he going to tell his, assuming gypsy hating uncle, that he got the body by consent dancing. "I do cross country." He blurted out which really wasn't a lie, he did have to run to keep his cardio up.
His uncle nodded to himself, seeming like he was approving of the sport. "Good, your school have a wrestling team?" He asked, leaning forward. Whatever little sunlight that came through the tinted windows shone down on the cane, highlighting the metal figure carved at the top of the cane. From what it looked like under the gleam of it, an eagle with both wings spread out. "Uh, no...no wrestling team." Quinn said as his hand came up to rake back his bleach blond hair, with brown oak undertone highlights. "How about JROTC? Ever heard of them?" His uncle pressured. "Um, I think so, I'm not too sure." He commented. His uncle gave a hardy chuckle, toying with the cane in his hand a bit. Quinn's eyes followed the movement of the eagle distractedly.
Sudden the end of the cane was jabbed at the seat between his legs, connecting with the black fabric of the limo's seat. Quinn nearly jumped out of his seat at the action. "You aren't giving me a bunch of bullshit right kid?" He said suddenly, the somewhat relaxed air around him, turning stale in a nanosecond. "No sir!" Quinn said immediately, eyes going wide and tried his best not to shake in his seat. Slowly his uncle retracted his cane and leaned back in his seat. "Good, now-" "Lord Rupert, we've arrived." The brown hair man said from the driver side called into the back. His uncle, Rupert grumbled to himself in what Quinn assumed was German. "Come on, get out." His uncle said and Quinn scrambled quickly and exited the limo quickly. His uncle getting out slowly behind him. The two men in suit stood directly beside Quinn as his uncle got out and closed the door himself. "Now, Quintus there are a few simple rules I will assume you will follow by the utmost respect, correct?" He asked him, looking down at him. "Yes sir." Quinn said softly. "Good, Gunther get the lad's bags." He said and grabbed Quinn's shoulder. "Let's walk." He said and guided him to the front of the large house.
Quinn's eyes widen at the site. "Oh my god, I-I get to live here?" He said and looked up at his uncle who smiled. "Yes, Gunther," he pointed to the blonde man getting his things, "Will stop by every afternoon at four to check up on you, making sure you are following the rules and the house hasn't burnt down." He said and stopped at the front door, Quinn stopping next to him. "Now here are the keys, and there is a spare in the kitchen, I'll be leaving now so you can get settled in. You'll be starting at your new high school in a week's time." He said and revealed a set of keys. "Now, for the rules." His uncle Rupert said, his tone growing more serious. "No parties in the house, you are to attend government classes at the school so that you will go into the family business. You will not smoke, drink or have any kind of relationship until after you are married, until I deem the woman worthy enough, or if I feel lenient you may date her. I will not tolerate animals in the house, unless I say other wise. Is that all understood?" His uncle said glaring his blue eyes down at him. "Yes sir." Quinn said quickly, though he really didn't understand everything he just said and was in a bit of a state of shock. "Good." His uncle mused as Gunther came up behind the and placed his bags on the ground.
"I will be seeing you soon again Quintus, I have a meeting to attend to in an hour and will call the house later tonight." He said as he turned around. Quinn nodded and turned around to unlock the house when there was sudden heavy weight in his shoulder. The weight whipped him around and he looked up into his uncle's dead like eyes. "Another rule of this house. If I even suspect you of dancing for any kind of payment the consequences will be server." His uncle warned, slowly dragging the tip of the wing of the cane along Quinn's throat until he had to tilt his chin up. "I'd hate to see something awful happen to that pretty face of yours, or for anything bad to happen to my only nephew, and heir to my company." He said smirking. To scared to voice a response Quinn screwed his eyes shut and tried not to move. "Glad you see things my way. I'll call you later." His uncle said, a sudden care free like tone weaving in with his words.
Quinn waited for the three men to get into the limo and drive off before he let out a huge sigh he had been holding in. He rubbed his throat softly, his light pale and olive mixed skin shinning smooth in the Cali afternoon sun. Quintus looked down at the key in his hand for a moment and then back to where the limo was parked. Squeezing the key in his hand he slowly sat down on the front porch. Swallowing thickly he started to regret having such high hopes for bonding with his uncle. As tears pricked the sides of his eyes a gust of wind whirled around him for a moment, cooling him off a bit from the heat of the sun. A sudden click was heard behind him and he turned around with his now tear stained face to see that the door had opened up.
"My dear are you all right?" A soft feminine voice asked. Rubbing his eyes he looked up to see an older woman in a maids outfit holding open the door. "I'm fine, sorry I...who are you?" He asked standing up and brushing off some of the dust on his loose fitting jeans. "I'm the house keeper here, my name is Moira." She said with a kind smile. Quinn returned it with one of his own. "Why don't you come in?" She said and stepped aside to let him enter the house. He quickly grabbed his things and walked inside the house. The inside was what he'd expect it to be, completely and utterly beautiful.
There was also a nice cool breeze circling around the first floor of the house that put a bit of a smile of Quinn's face. "Leave your bags there for now dear, I'm sure you must be starving." Moira said as she walked into the kitchen. Quinn did as she said and then followed her into the kitchen. "What would you like to eat?" She asked him. "Oh...umm..." Quinn wasn't used to being waited on. "Anything easy for you to make, I'm not that hungry." He said. Moira turned around and looked over at him, now sitting at the kitchen island. "Well that's certainly not specific enough to make..." Her voice trailed off. Quinn smacked himself in the back of his mind. "Sorry! I never introduced myself I'm Quintus Marcellin by uncle bought house and is letting me stay here." He said quickly. Moira smiled softly, "Alright Mr. Marcellin what do you want to eat." "Um anything sweet I guess." He said shyly. "Alright I think I have something up my sleeve you might like." She commented. "Yum!" Quinn smiled.
After a few minutes of watched Moira creating whatever it was, he spoke up. "My uncle didn't say anything about a house keeper here, he said Gunther was going to be dropping by every afternoon." Quinn said. Moira simply looked over her shoulder with a smile. "Your uncle Rupert is as old as I am, he's very forgetful sometimes since he's so busy with his own work he forgets the littler people he hires to take care of his things." She said. Quinn just nodded and placed around with the little spice rack on the counter. Moira smiled at his action but looked over towards the living room as she sensed one of the many dead people haunting the house.
Patrick stood, or more so leaned against the door frame, eyeing Quintus up and down. Moira gave him a deadly glare, daring him to do something. Patrick scoffed and then disappeared out of sight down the hall. "Something wrong Moira?" Quinn asked. "Oh, no nothing Mr. Marcellin, here you go." She said and placed a tray of strawberry tarts with whipped cream in front of him. Moira saw the surprised look at the treats and could the young boy wasn't used to being pampered even a little bit. "Gosh, Moira...these...they look amazing." He said picking one of the sweets up and taking a bite of it. "Glad to know you like it." "He seems easy to please." Patrick said, now standing right behind Quinn, though the blonde headed sweet lover had no clue. Patrick smirked at Moira before the treat in Quinn's hand suddenly slipped out of his grasp and fell on his shirt and pants. "Shoot." Quinn said and backed up just as Patrick disappeared again. The whipped cream and strawberry tart staining the clothes. "Oh dear it's alright, here." She said and handed him a damp towel. As Quinn cleaned off the mess he looked back up at Moira. "Mr. Marcellin, did your uncle ever tell you anything about this house?" Quinn shook his head no.
Sighing Moira sat down on the other side of the kitchen island. "This house is very, very old. Built in the '20's and since then...I'm going to be very honest with you, many people have died in this house." She told him bluntly and could see the suddenly uneasy stance Quinn had and how it looked like he was try to suppress his shivering. "Really, that's um..." He didn't how to respond to that in all honesty. "Mr. Marcellin as long as you have your head, you should not be afraid of this old place." Moira told him. "Right." He said, tossing the towel in the trash bin. "Besides, I'm sure your uncle will want you living somewhere else once you finish high school. Possibly close to company's headquarters or something like that." Moira said, as she got out a glass cover to put over the strawberry tarts. "Yeah, the company..." Quinn sighed and ran a hand through his slightly spiked yet somewhat shaggy hair. "Do you not want to take over the company?" Moira asked him with a concern look. Quinn looked up at her shyly and bit the bottom of his lip. "I don't even know what the company is and what they do. I haven't taken any kind of government classes all throughout high school, and starting them half way through my senior year? I mean what kind of job will that get me?" Quinn said and sat on the kitchen counter.
"Then Mr. Marcellin, what do you want to do?" Moira asked kindly. Quinn didn't meet her eyes. "Okay have to, like promise that you won't tell my uncle what I'm about to tell you." He told her, and held out his pinkie finger. Moira laughed softly at the childish action, but none the less intertwine her other pinkie finger with his. "Promise." She told him. "I want to be a dancer like my mother was, but my father's family absolutely hate gypsies. I don't even know how the two met or why he was in Greece in the first place." "Where you born there?" She asked. "Yeah, my mom Greek and my dad German through and through. I wanted to dance like my mother, the first time I saw he dancing was in the living room with my dad, and since then I've always wanted to dance. I sometimes even snuck out of the house and followed her to where she worked." "I think you'd make a lovely dancer Mr. Marcellin." Moira said and rested a wrinkled hand on Quinn's leg. "You'd be the only one to think that, besides my mother, but she's...not with us anymore. My father didn't like the idea of his son dancing for money." He admitted.
"Well, you're in America now and can do whatever you heart wants to do." Moira said and patted his leg. "Now, why don't you get settled in and put your things away, I still have some cleaning to do." She said and Quinn got off the counter. "Thanks Moira." He said and went back to the front of the house. Grabbing both of his bags Quinn made his way up the stairs. He left the two suitcases atop of the stairs and looked around. Down the hallway Patrick leaned against the hallway and watched as the new tenant looked around for a room to call his own. "Looking at the new eye candy?" Tate said, appearing next to him. "What's it to you?" Patrick said looking over at the other blonde headed boy. "Well just remember the last time you tried banging the new owner." Tate said and shrugged his shoulders. "This one doesn't have any baggage." Patrick said, not in the mood to talk to his killer.
"Scram before I rip you open and hang you like a deer in front of Violet." Patrick warned him. Tate made a few comments on how he'd do the same if he ever touched or looked at Violet before angrily walking off. Going back to watching Quinn, he saw him checking Tate's old room. Well, he certainly didn't want him bunking in there. Patrick went over thermostat and cranked it up to over eighty degrees Fahrenheit. Slowly the upstairs became an oven as Patrick saw Quinn exit Tate's room. "God, nowhere is safe from this California heat." Quinn mumbled and started to tug at the collar of his t-shirt. Patrick grew a bit impatience and wanted some fun, since he wasn't getting any action from absolutely anyone in the house. Quinn went to open another door when suddenly a door at the end of the hallway opened up.
He looked over and slowly made his way over, once at the door he hesitantly poked his head into the room. "Oh, wow!" Quinn said as he stepped into the master bedroom. The place looked amazing with the white sheets and the huge bed. Quinn immediately dived on to the bed and sighed happily. He never seen such a big bed and rolled over so that he was laying down on his back and stared up at the ceiling. He stayed there for a moment before a sudden heat wave washed over him. Quinn felt like he'd sweat off a pound if he stayed like he was now. He exited the room and got his suitcases and came back into the room, sweat now covering him in a thin sheen. Patrick watched his own personal show as he sat in the chair next to the desk. Quinn had thrown a suitcase on the bed and popped it open.
Slowly he removed the shirt he was wearing and then turned around, no doubt because he felt like someone was watching him, and in this case he was right. Patrick could see Quinn's toned muscle and abs underneath his rich color skin, it almost had him watering at the mouth. For someone who danced, and also being a male, Patrick noticed how small his waist was. He thought how good he would look laying on the bed sweat and moaning. Tossing his shirt to the side Quinn walked over and shut the door. Turning back around he slowly started to undo his pants and take them off.
By this time, Patrick's pants started to feel a little snug. He almost swore the boy was teasing him. As Quinn took off his pants to reveal a pair of forest green briefs, Patrick thanked whoever was up there because this was the most action he got since Ben and if he played his cards right he could- "I had come to see if it was true." An all to familiar voice said from in front of the closed door. Patrick looked over to see Chad standing there with his arms crossed against his chest. "Is everyone in this house trying to cock block me?" Patrick asked out loud. Chad scoffed and sat down on the master bed. "Well, I've got to give it to the kid, nice body." He said, looking up and down, eyeing Quinn's toned legs.
Quinn sighed as he folded his discarded clothes at the end of the bed and zoned out to himself for a moment. Wondering if he should practice a bit of dance in the large living room space or take a shower and get settled in. But thinking back to what his uncle said about him dancing... 'Your not dancing for money, it's just practice.' Patrick made Quinn think, he could always shower later after a bit of a workout. "You dirty sly dog." Chad said from his seat on the bed as Quinn threw on a pair of black shorts. "Can you blame me-" "Yes, yes I can." Chad butted in. "You know that's not what I meant." Patrick sighed. "Oh, I know." Chad said and held up his hands. "I'll just leave you alone to toy with the underage innocent new house guest." Chad said and disappeared. "He's not underage, he's seventeen." Patrick grumbled to himself. It took Patrick a moment before noticing that Quinn had left the room. This was something he didn't want to miss.