Dead Plate Oneshots Stand By Me

Warning: Age gap (legal), Slurs

Vincent knew what he was getting into when he married Rody. The age gap between them—nearly a decade—raised eyebrows, but the real challenge was Rody’s past. Rody had a life before Vincent, one that came with two kids, an ex-wife, and a family fiercely loyal to Manon. Vincent was prepared to be patient, to work hard to earn his place. But nearly two years into his marriage, he was realizing how painfully out of place he was.

It was especially hard at family gatherings, like today. The tension settled over him like a weight as he stood in the kitchen, setting the table with care. Rody’s family was there, along with his two kids. His daughter, Juliet, was the only one who didn’t look at him with some level of disdain. She gave him a small, sympathetic smile as she joined him at the table, the only friendly presence in the room. His stepson, Leo, shot him a glare that he tried to ignore.

Vincent worked quietly, setting down the plates he’d spent the afternoon arranging. He’d prepared an array of dishes, including a vegetarian one especially for Juliet. She’d once confided that she didn’t eat meat—a fact no one in Rody’s family seemed to respect, especially her grandparents, who brushed off her choice as “a silly phase.” Juliet had thanked him for noticing, a quiet moment that had meant more to him than she’d likely known.

Rody’s mother, Colette, was the first to comment as she peered at the food. “What is this?” She turned up her nose. “Did you have to make it so… fancy?”

Vincent swallowed. “I just wanted to make sure everyone had something they liked.”

“Well, it’s not like we’re at some high-end restaurant,” Colette said with a mocking glance at her husband, Marc, who was chuckling. “Can’t you make something simple, like Manon used to? She understood how to cook for a real family.”

His jaw tightened, but he forced a polite smile. “I thought this would be a nice change.”

Leo pushed his plate away without even trying a bite. “I don’t want it. Mom’s lasagna was better.”

Juliet gave Leo a sharp look, her green eyes—so much like her father’s—narrowing. “It’s not that bad, Leo.”

“Oh, not that bad,” Rody’s sister, Claire, snorted. “What a compliment. Couldn’t you at least try not to be such a… what do they call it these days? Oh, right, a *hipster.*”

The word dripped with disdain. Vincent’s chest felt tight, but he merely kept his face neutral. He’d heard it all before. “Sissy,” “pretty boy,” “fancy chef.” Colette had even once called him “the other woman,” despite Vincent having met Rody well after his divorce from Manon. It wasn’t true, but he couldn’t seem to shake the label in their eyes.

Rody finally entered the room, glancing around at the tense expressions but blissfully unaware of the remarks that had passed just moments ago. “Hey, everyone. Food looks great, Vince.” He clapped a hand on Vincent’s shoulder, then smiled warmly at everyone. Vincent leaned into the touch, even as his heart felt heavy. Rody didn’t know half of what his family said when he wasn’t in the room. It wasn’t that Vincent hadn’t tried to tell him; he had. Rody always brushed it off, saying, “They’ll come around.”

But they hadn’t. And Vincent wasn’t so sure they ever would.

“Your husband’s gone overboard again,” Colette said, eyeing Rody with a disapproving frown. “Manon knew how to keep things simple. She didn’t need all these ‘fancy’ touches.” Her voice was laced with a bitterness that always made Vincent feel like he was intruding on a life that wasn’t his to live.

Rody rubbed the back of his neck, looking awkward. “Well, Vince has his style, Mom. Let’s just enjoy it, alright?”

“*His style,*” Marc muttered with a sneer. “Right. Guess we’ll be dining like Parisian snobs tonight.” The others laughed, and Rody didn’t say anything more.

Juliet reached out, her small hand covering Vincent’s. “I think it looks amazing,” she whispered. “Thank you.”

He managed a smile for her, but it didn’t reach his eyes. She was the one bright spot in this family, the only one who saw him for who he was rather than a pale shadow of Manon. Juliet, always kind, always compassionate, was the only one who even called him “Papa.” It softened some of the pain, but it didn’t erase it.

Throughout dinner, the barrage of comments continued. Claire complained about the seasoning; Colette griped about the presentation. Leo outright refused to eat, staring sullenly at his plate, muttering about how Manon would’ve made something “real” instead of this “weird stuff.”

“Vincent, didn’t they teach you to make, I don’t know, *normal* food at culinary school?” Marc asked, barely disguising his disdain.

Vincent took a deep breath. “Actually, the dishes I’ve prepared are quite popular—”

“Sure, sure, at one of those pretentious places you like.” Marc waved his hand dismissively. “No one in their right mind would eat this on purpose.”

Rody shifted uncomfortably, but as usual, he said nothing. He was adept at deflecting conflict, never wanting to rock the boat. But Vincent could feel the bitterness rise in his chest every time Rody just sat there, smiling awkwardly, failing to defend him.

Later, after everyone else had left the table, Vincent remained behind, clearing the plates while Rody sat back, watching him with a small smile. “Thanks for doing this, Vince. I know my family can be… a bit difficult.”

Vincent’s movements slowed, but he didn’t look up. “Do you know that?” His voice was barely a whisper, the bitterness finally slipping through.

Rody blinked in surprise. “Of course I do. It’s just… they’ll come around, you know?”

“They won’t, Rody,” Vincent said quietly. He felt his voice waver but forced himself to continue. “They think you should’ve stayed with Manon. That you made a mistake by choosing me.” His hands stilled as he set down the last of the plates, finally meeting Rody’s gaze. “They think I’m just some… passing phase.”

Rody’s face softened. “That’s not true, Vincent. I chose you.”

“Then why don’t you defend me?” Vincent’s voice cracked, and he hated how raw he sounded, how vulnerable. “Every time they insult me, every time they make me feel like an outsider in my own marriage, you just sit there and smile, like you don’t see it.”

Rody was silent, his mouth opening, then closing again. “I… I didn’t realize you felt that way.”

Vincent clenched his fists, desperate to hold back the tears threatening to fall. “I try so hard to be accepted, Rody. I cook for them, I make sure Juliet has something she can eat even when they criticize her for it… I’ve given everything I have to make this family accept me. But nothing works. Nothing is ever good enough.”

“Vince,” Rody began, reaching out, but Vincent pulled back.

“I know you loved Manon,” he continued, his voice dropping to a whisper. “And I know she was your first. She gave you two beautiful children—something I can never give you. And I hate that I’m jealous of her. I hate that no matter what I do, it’ll never be enough for them. Or maybe… maybe it’ll never be enough for you.”

Rody’s face paled, and he shook his head. “Don’t say that, Vincent. I love you. I wouldn’t have married you if I didn’t.”

“Then prove it,” Vincent said softly. “Stand up for me. Show them that you chose me, not as some replacement or consolation prize, but because you love me. Because… because I’m terrified, Rody.” His voice broke. “I’m terrified that one day, you’ll realize they’re right. That I was a mistake.”

Rody looked at him, his eyes filled with remorse. He stepped closer, pulling Vincent into his arms despite Vincent’s attempt to keep distance. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I didn’t realize how much you were hurting. I thought… I thought it would get better if I just let it go.”

Vincent let himself lean into Rody’s embrace, his hands clutching his husband’s shirt tightly. “It won’t. Not unless they know you’re willing to stand by me.”

Rody pulled back, meeting Vincent’s gaze. “I’ll talk to them. I promise, Vincent. I won’t let them hurt you like this anymore. I don’t want you feeling like you’re second to anyone, least of all Manon.”

Vincent nodded, a glimmer of relief breaking through the pain. He let himself believe, if only for a moment, that things might finally change. That he might find a place in this family, if only Rody would help him carve it out.