Two weeks later, Reggie Vale made the tactical error of attempting diplomacy with The Sanctuary.
Juniper warned him repeatedly this would not work.
"You cannot approach them logically," Juniper explained while digging through Reggie's closet for sweaters despite technically still living in Chelsea. "They operate entirely on emotional weather patterns."
Reggie adjusted his cufflinks calmly.
"They're important to you."
Juniper paused.
That still did something to him.
Every time.
Because Reggie never said things halfway.
Not:
"I tolerate them."
Not:
"I'll deal with them."
Important.
Juniper looked at him suspiciously.
"You're trying very hard."
"Yes."
"Why?"
Reggie glanced up.
"Because I love you."
Juniper stopped functioning temporarily.
"Okay," he whispered weakly. "You can't just say things like that before coffee."
Reggie looked amused.
"You asked."
Juniper threw a sweater at him emotionally.
The invitation alone caused problems.
Not because of the wording.
Because it arrived by hand-delivered black envelope.
With wax seals.
And embossed stationery thick enough to qualify as construction material.
The Sanctuary gathered around the kitchen table staring at it like it contained anthrax.
Sage opened it cautiously.
Inside:
Brunch.
Sunday at noon.
Please come hungry.
—Reggie
Below that:
an address in Tribeca.
River looked horrified immediately.
"Oh no."
"What?" Juniper asked.
"That address doesn't exist publicly."
Everyone turned slowly.
Nova gasped.
"WAIT."
Elias grabbed their phone frantically.
"Oh my God. That's The Meridian."
Silence fell over the apartment.
Juniper blinked.
"...What's The Meridian?"
Ten people screamed simultaneously.
"You don't KNOW?"
"That place has a fourteen-year waiting list."
"You need referrals from governments."
"Beyoncé got photographed leaving there once."
Juniper frowned.
"That sounds fake."
Sage looked physically stressed.
"This is psychological warfare."
Sunday arrived with the emotional energy of a hostage exchange.
The Sanctuary dressed like:
- rich Brooklyn witches
- bisexual art professors
- emotionally unstable forest spirits
Juniper wore black silk and jewelry Reggie bought him in Paris because apparently he'd become susceptible to luxury.
Which honestly:
deeply upsetting.
The car service arrived at eleven-thirty sharp.
Three black SUVs.
River immediately crossed themselves spiritually.
"This is how billionaires transport oligarchs."
"It's brunch," Juniper insisted.
"No," Sage corrected. "This is a flex."
The moment they arrived in Tribeca, The Sanctuary collectively fell silent.
The Meridian hid behind an unmarked bronze door attended by men in suits so expensive they looked genetically engineered.
One opened the door.
And everyone inside The Sanctuary stopped breathing.
"Oh my God," Nova whispered.
The interior looked less like a restaurant and more like:
- a museum curated by old money vampires
- if Versailles discovered minimalism
- if wealth became sentient
Crystal chandeliers.
Private jazz quartet.
Massive floral arrangements.
Terraces overlooking the Hudson.
Everything smelled like impossible amounts of money.
River physically grabbed Juniper's arm.
"I'm too poor to perceive this correctly."
Sage went pale.
"No because seriously what the fuck."
Then they noticed the clientele.
Celebrities.
Tech founders.
European aristocracy somehow.
At least one woman who'd definitely killed a husband for inheritance purposes.
Half of The Sanctuary visibly recoiled.
Nova clutched their chest.
"I just made eye contact with someone worth a billion dollars and now I understand why peasants revolted historically."
Across the room Reggie stood from a long private table dressed entirely in black looking calm, devastating, and deeply pleased to see Juniper.
Juniper's heart immediately betrayed him.
Again.
Because apparently it enjoyed humiliation.
Reggie crossed the room toward them while conversations subtly shifted around him.
Not because he was loud.
Because power moved with him naturally.
And the horrifying thing?
He only softened when he reached Juniper.
"There you are," Reggie said quietly.
Juniper swallowed.
"You invited my polycule to billionaire brunch."
"Yes."
"That's insane behavior."
"Probably."
Then Reggie looked past him toward The Sanctuary.
Who collectively stared back like raccoons confronting a luxury vehicle.
Reggie nodded politely.
"Thank you for coming."
Dead silence.
Finally Sage stepped forward carefully.
"This place has six sommeliers."
"Yes."
"That's morally wrong."
"Possibly."
Juniper watched in awe as Reggie somehow remained completely calm under direct spiritual hostility.
Which was especially impressive because The Sanctuary had clearly prepared emotionally for combat.
They sat.
Immediately disaster began.
Nova opened the menu and whispered:
"Oh my God."
River looked over.
Then:
"OH MY GOD."
Juniper frowned.
"What?"
River turned the menu around slowly.
$78 pancakes.
Juniper gasped so loudly nearby diners looked over.
"THEY PUT CAVIAR ON BRUNCH."
Reggie sipped coffee peacefully.
"It's good."
"That sentence alone should qualify you for investigation."
Then the waiter approached.
And somehow things got worse.
"Will the table be doing the tasting experience today?"
Sage looked suspicious immediately.
"What does that mean."
The waiter smiled serenely.
"Twelve courses."
Nova nearly fainted.
"FOR BRUNCH?"
Reggie answered calmly:
"Yes."
The Sanctuary collectively looked like they might unionize against wealth on the spot.
Meanwhile Juniper watched Reggie carefully.
Because underneath all the absurdity—
this mattered to him.
He was trying.
Not buying affection.
Not controlling the situation.
Trying.
For Juniper.
The realization hit harder than expected.
Then the food arrived.
And unfortunately:
it was incredible.
Which only made everyone angrier.
At one point River burst into tears eating truffle eggs.
"This is the best thing I've ever tasted and I resent him deeply for it."
Sage pointed a fork accusingly at Reggie.
"You cannot solve emotional conflict with artisanal butter."
Reggie paused.
"...Has anyone tried the butter?"
Ten minutes later The Sanctuary sat in traumatized silence consuming butter flown in from France.
Juniper watched the whole thing with growing delight.
Because somehow—
impossibly—
Reggie was winning them over.
Not fully.
Sage still looked ready to stage a spiritual coup.
But little cracks appeared:
- Nova laughing at Reggie's dry sarcasm
- Elias asking about his childhood
- River emotionally destabilized by imported jam
And through all of it Reggie kept looking at Juniper.
Constantly.
Like this entire ridiculous brunch only existed because Juniper did.
At one point beneath the table Reggie's hand settled quietly against Juniper's knee.
Small.
Possessive.
Absentminded.
Juniper's pulse immediately went insane.
Across the table Sage noticed instantly.
Their eyes narrowed.
Then, horrifyingly:
"...Oh no."
Juniper froze.
Sage stared between them slowly.
"You're happy."
Silence.
Juniper opened his mouth.
Closed it again.
Because for the first time in years—
maybe terrifyingly—
He actually was.