Oneshots - Kayce Dutton

Don't Tell Dad

Request: Kayce is out of town for whatever reason and y/n gets a call from Tate saying he's been arrested (he'd be older here...like 15) and that he didn't want to call his mom or dad.

You turned off the lamp in the living room as you made your way to up the stairs for the evening. It was almost ten at night, and you had cleaned up downstairs for Kayce's return tomorrow. He had been on a four-day hunting trip with John, Rip, and Jamie...yes, you were just as surprised as everyone else. But you were hopeful it would bring the four of them a little closer together due to the past almost two decades of uncomfortable history.

You weren't going to lie that you had enjoyed the time to mostly yourself. It was very rare for all four of them to be gone at the same time. In fact, you couldn't remember a time they had all been gone. But look at you now, almost to the end and nothing had popped up. You heard your cell phone go off and walked around the bed to your nightstand. It was Tate's name that popped up and you thought it was a little weird for him to be calling this late. He had been at the Reservation with his mother today, helping her with some things.

"Hello?" You answered.

"Y/N?" Tate's voice sounded off and it was eerily quiet afterward.

"Tate?" You sat down on the bed. "Are you okay?"

"Um..." He trailed off. "I think I need you to come get me."

"Tate," You sighed and rubbed your forehead. "You're fine to spend the night out there. Your mom would enjoy having you, I'm sure."

It wasn't uncommon for Tate to ask to be picked up from the Reservation every now and then when he was supposed to stay out there. He could handle it in small doses, but his real love was the Yellowstone. But it was late, you were not about to drive all the way out there to pick him up just because he wanted you too.

"I'm uh, not at the Res," Tate sniffed.

"Where are you?" You sat up a little straighter.

"I'm kind of in jail," Tate sighed.

"What?" You stood up. "Tate? What happened?"

Apparently, Tate had been hanging out with his cousins, all of whom are older than him, and they were able to get two packs of beer. They all went out to some open field and were just hanging out, when one genius decided to start shooting off a shotgun into the sky because he "wanted to see if he could shoot out the stars." The sheriff was called and long story short, Tate didn't know where the hiding places were, so he was picked up and taken in.

"Is your mom on her way?" You asked, choosing to ignore that stupidity of what Tate had just told you.

"Um, no," Tate cleared his throat. "I just called you."

"Tate..." You sighed. "I'm not your parent."

"But you're my legal guardian," Tate argued. "They said I could call you too."

You thought for a moment and decided it was too late to get into an argument with Monica right now. So, you told Tate you'd be there in thirty minutes, hung up and phone, and made your way out to the Reservation police station. Pulling up to the station it was now thirty minutes to midnight.

Walking inside you stood at the reception desk until a man came out.

"Name?" He asked.

"Tate Dutton?" You answered.

"No, you're name," The guy sighed.

"How am I supposed to know that's what you meant?" You rolled your eyes. "Y/N Dutton."