Author's notes:

Random drabble alert.

Don't scream.

Disclaimer: I do not own Foster's. That honor goes to Craig.

Mac stumbled into the apartment. It didn't matter how many times he reminded her, because his mother would never fix the threshold. Therefore, he was destined to trip over it forever more.

Kicking off his shoes, he braced himself for a truckload of homework. He probably shouldn't have spent so much time at Foster's, but it was pizza night, and that was better than whatever Mac's mother left in the fridge for him to eat.

Sure enough, there on the table was a note telling Terrence to warm up the two tuna melts in the fridge, one for Mac, and one for him. Opening the refrigerator, Mac, saw that both of the sandwiches were gone. Not surprising in the least.

Speaking of Terrence, where was he? A Thursday night didn't hold anything in store for him. Walking to his room to finally start his homework, Mac saw his brother's backpack on the couch, covered in graffiti from a white-out pen.

Neatly placing his own backpack by his desk, Mac listened closely for a moment. To his surprise, he heard a faint, high-pitched sound that sounded like a songbird that was dying, laying eggs, and constipated at the same time.

What was that sound? It could potentially be that heavy metal music Terrence so often played, blasting it as loud as he could until the walls were shaking or someone told him to turn it down. But it couldn't be, for Terrence never would turn down his music. He simply just wasn't considerate enough for that.

Curious, Mac knocked on the door.

"What?" Terrence squeaked at him.

Now Mac knew that something definitely was up.

Opening the door, he saw his older brother swiftly shove something under his bed.

"What are you doing?" Mac inquired.

"Uh… nothing," his brother replied, his voice still a little edgy.

Mac stared at him, and then went under the bed to find whatever it was that Terrence was trying to hide.

"Wait! You can't see it!" Terrence protested. "It's, uh, none of your business!"

It was long and silver, with many buttons and keys, and a hole on the top.

Emerging from under the bed, Mac held the object in his hands, dumbstruck.

"A flute?" he asked, shocked.

Terrence shifted around uneasily. "Uh huh."

Staring at the object instrument as if it would bite him, Mac fiddled with the smooth metal cautiously.

"Hey!" Terrence suddenly hollered, snatching it away from him. "It's the school's property, and if you mess it up, you're going to get a wedgie that will wake the entire apartment compound up from your screaming."

Mac stifled a chuckle. "It's complex, Terrence. Apartment complex."

"Whatever. But anyway, you can't touch it."

The younger of the two crossed his arms over his chest. "But why do you have it? You're not in band, and…" He stopped when he saw Terrence nod. "You are? But why would you choose to play the flute? I mean, there's nothing wrong with a guy playing the flute, but, y'know, it just doesn't seem like the instrument you of all people would pick!"

Irritated, Terrence narrowed his eyes. "I didn't! But the guidance counselor told me that I have to get an extracorinular activity, or else they wouldn't let me go to the high school."


"Yeah, yeah. But band only meets once a week, so I picked that. But then they told me that the only instrument left was flute, so it was either quit band or join the chorus."

Mac snorted. "Chorus?"

"Get out of here," Terrence commanded through gritted teeth.

"Fine," Mac answered, turning for the door, "I have homework anyway. But do you think you could warn me next time you're going to practice? I mean, it's torture having to listen to-"

"GET OUT!" Terrence yelled, and Mac had to duck at the pillow being thrown at him.

Retreating to the safety of his room, he got out his math homework. Hearing Terrence struggle to get out a high F, he cringed.

"I think I would have liked it better if he had decided to join the chorus."

Author's notes: A random drabble I decided to write after getting home from the football game last night (I play flute in the band). It's stupid, but hey, who says that guys can't play the flute?