Chapter Text
Deep breath, and let it out. Justin Hammer's greatest strength was their self-control, they couldn't afford to lose it— no matter how much they wanted to.
Even if Justin really, really wanted to. Like right now, when his latest bank statement proudly declared he officially had all of one dollar to his name. Ugh, figured that the one time their parents were paying attention to them, it was for shit like this.
What was it, that last not-fight with the old man, or the fact that they’d been late to Thanksgiving due to midterms? Oh, who was he even kidding, it was the latter— mother dearest just hated anytime their ‘happy family’ facade showed the slightest crack.
So emptying out Justin's bank account? Part retaliation for dragging his feet when scheduling his trip home last time, and part warning to not do the same for winter break. Even if finals were right before Christmas this year, because of course they were.
Justin tamped down on that frustration and helplessness and rage, and focused on what they needed to do next.
Okay.
They were officially broke for the foreseeable future, months of careful investing down the drain, but they could work with what they had.
Utilities were covered in the year-long rental contract they’d prepaid at the start of the term, it was the phone cutting off and his main card being declined while grocery shopping that had tipped Justin off to what was going on.
They were screwed on the latter, but if this hissy fit went as expected, then they'd give it a few days for their parents to "let it sink in", and a handful more before their spite was outweighed by their need for convenience and they reinstated his phone because neither of his parents could stand each other for more than five minutes these days.
If things continued like previous fights, and knowing his parents the way he did, then the next step would be to play along and once the situation had blown over, they’d put half of the money back by New Year’s, keeping the rest as punishment. As if Justin was the one acting like an unruly child, and not their parents who threw honest to goodness temper tantrums the moment things didn’t go their way.
Holidays were never a good time, but these past few years were a special sort of hell: Steph had nearly completely outgrown the ‘cute small child’ stage and while she was normally safely out of sight at boarding school, she never shut up about art school these days and Justin’s Econ major could only do so much damage control— especially with their father.
They’d seen the writing on the wall, they knew what was coming; but the breaking point wasn’t quite yet, and they’d be able to do so much more to at least get Steph out of this mess if they just gritted their teeth during moments like these, and stuck with the plan. It was at a delicate stage at the moment, and they couldn’t afford to touch any of those funds for another three years at least if they wanted any of it to work. Not without raising major red flags, at least, and blowing the entire operation.
Even if that meant enduring moments like these, carefully going through their apartment and dipping into their emergency stash to make it to the end of the semester.
Really, Justin was lucky they even had that much— even if something deep inside them nearly cried, because they shouldn’t have had to do this ever again.
Justin Hammer couldn’t remember it, but they knew, as sure as the sun rose in the east and taxes were due on April 15, that surviving in winter on a shoestring budget was a miserable experience. Especially when they had a pantry with a handful of granola bars very little else, and the only saving grace to this mess is that the end date was roughly three weeks away, and at least they didn’t have to worry about electricity or running water this time— and wow, that bar wasn’t on the goddamn ground.
Okay, so, that was where they were at the moment. Not great, but they could work with this.
Their emergency cash would get them several pounds of rice and beans for the apartment, and on campus there would soon be dozens of RSOs holding celebrations for either the holidays, end of term, or both. Justin liked to think they were fairly well-liked, it shouldn’t be too hard to secure an invite or five to something with free food. As a bonus, they’d be able to network and set out feelers for people interested in tutoring for next term; Justin might not be a genius, but they were studious and if even one person was up for it, they’d be able to supplement their emergency cash for future situations.
Okay, that’d work, and with the bonus of not needing to go to the pawn shop with a few of their favorite first editions, or whatever else they had lying around. That was for Plan C, but they weren’t that desperate just yet. Ugh, this is what happened when Justin got complacent, they really should’ve seen this coming since that first fight with their father and put more effort into diversifying their assets… but then, if wishes were fishes nobody’d ever go hungry, which didn’t change the fact that they currently had a fridge with a few sticks of butter and next to nothing else.
Okay. They could do this.
[And within five years, this would be nothing more than a memory best left forgotten, because they’d do everything in their power to never, ever let this happen again.]
But right now, Justin’s main focus was on making it to the end of the semester.
“Wow, that’s a lot of food. You really do this every year?” Ivan Vanko stared at the frankly massive stacks of boxes currently sitting by the loading bay, and Justin smiled, a lot quieter but some how more genuine in his now somewhat rumpled suit. The photo op had already ended, but the commotion— and the obnoxious music— had been enough to get him curious about what was going on outside his workshop.
Seeing his not-boss sign a cartoonishly large check with an equally cartoonishly large pen hadn’t been on his bucket list, but it’d been amusing enough for Ivan to stick around— well, okay, the cookie booth and hot chocolate station helped, too.
“Keeping in the spirit of Christmas, and all that.” Justin replied with a shrug, and made his way to the corner to sign off on the shipment even as staff and volunteers chattered away as they loaded it around them. “Tony’s an atheist and still makes a donation to the Maria Stark Foundation, what kind of Christian would I be if I couldn’t even match that?”
“You’re religious?” Ivan blinked, before the rest of the sentence registered and he snorted. “Wait— come on, what kind of half-assed rivalry is that?"
“One that raises stock prices like clockwork.” Came Justin’s wry reply as he flipped through the requisite forms. “And I’ll have you know, I’ve never half-assed a thing in my life. It’s got much more than that.”
Ivan didn’t even bother to hide his smirk, because yes, he did know. ‘It’s complicated’ didn’t even begin to cover it.
Although…
“But really, you’re religious? Never took you for the type.” Goodness knew Ivan wasn’t, he’d spent the entire past month sequestered from annoyingly catchy music and even more obnoxious people trying to foist their religion onto him.
“All the Hammers are.” Justin said with too-casual wave, and there it was.
Ivan could not deny he was curious about Justin Hammer, for him to turn out like… well, like he was now. He’d surreptitiously poked around in the time since he’d been first recruited, but beyond the bare-bones basics of school and parents and that infamous Hammer-Stark rivalry, the man was nothing but question marks.
He was charming, and polite, and despite working closely with him for over half a year now, Ivan didn’t even know his favorite color. This, while Justin had somehow gotten Ivan’s shoe and shirt sizes, and had a fully-furnished condo ready to go before they’d even met. But nobody existed in a vacuum, and absolutely none of it made a lick of sense when by all rights, Justin should have been just like every other oligarch on Billionaire’s Row.
But he wasn’t, for some inexplicable reason. Neither he nor Stark, loath as Ivan was to admit it, and by now it was evident it wasn’t an act— but it still left him with more questions than answers.
But this— despite the spectacle, this was the most honest he’d seen Justin in public. Which meant something about donating was personal for the man who’d been born with a silver spoon in his mouth, and it had something to do with his family. For there was a story in the quiet bitterness as Justin spoke of the Hammers, the sardonic little quirk to his mouth that wasn’t there even when the latest report came in with Stark Industries stock in the lead.
Lost in his thoughts for a second, Ivan nearly startled when Justin let out a laugh as he finally put away the clipboard. “Oh, if you had questions, all you needed to do was ask. Come on, are you really complaining?”
“Complaining, no. Curious, yes.”
Justin gave their surroundings a quick look, and apparently deemed everyone else as sufficiently distracted for their conversation as he answered with an impish smile. “Dear old dad hates it, but our PR’s never been better. And the best part is? If anyone asks, ‘tis the season. Basically tradition at this point.”
Oh, of course. Daddy issues.
Seeing the realization on Ivan’s face, Justin clapped him on the shoulder and started to usher him away from the loading dock. “Come on, I think we still have some hot chocolate left.”