Title: Glass Spire

Author: Ash Gray Kitsune

Fandom(s): Avengers Movieverse, Portal

Pairings: ClintxTony

Disclaimer: I do not own either of the Portal games, nor do I own the Avengers movie.

A/N: Started this out as something else, then had a brain fart and chucked Tony in.

Glass Spire

"Hello, and welcome to the Aperture Science computer-aided enrichment center." Brown eyes, normally ringed with dark circles and the usual smudge of black grease, snapped open at the precisely perfect, female voice that rang through the room...and Tony Stark sat up slowly, the arc reactor in his chest spinning as his stomach turned over, leaving an acidic taste in his mouth. The room he woke to was a curious mixture of old and new; glossy black panels were half-covered in ratty motel wallpaper, complete with false wainscoting, while the ceiling tiles were half gray textured stucco, half featureless white. He was resting on a crappy-looking old mattress, but the springs inside had to be high quality; they barely bowed when he moved, let alone squeaked.

None of it, though, was even remotely familiar to him. Least of all that voice; it grated on his nerves, strung tight as they already were, and put his back up, as Steve would say. Speaking of the big blonde...no, no one was here. He was alone in a room that looked like it was from an Asimov/Grisham novel, clean as a whistle and fully awake...and dressed in a uniform. An orange uniform.

"Fuck this, I'm not in prison; the fuckers didn't try me with a jury..." He muttered to himself, reaching for the zipper and tilting his head a little to peer at the insignia on the left side of his chest...only to gape, bug-eyed at a logo that had lurked in the annuls of science for the last twenty-five years. "Oh fuck." He stood up and backed away from the bed, eyes darting all over the room. No Jarvis, no workshop, no Tower...Fucking hell.

"...I'm in Cave freakin' Johnson's playhouse." He whispered hoarsely, brown eyes wide.

"Cave Johnson? Who's that, might I ask?" The slightly manic British accent behind him nearly made Tony scream, and he tumbled across the room, one hand pressed to the reactor in his chest, eyes blown wide as...a ball with a big blue eye peered in through the doorway.

"Who the fuck are you?!" The ball bounced a little, and that same voice emerged, young and reminding him of a slightly less haughty Loki.

"I am Wheatley, at your service! I must say, you're quite the surprise! Most, if not all, of the other test subjects aren't nearly as...vocal as you."

"As vocal?"

"They are rather limited to grunting. You, though...you must have an exceedingly high IQ to withstand the long sleep!" Tony decided to take that as a compliment before his brain snapped back to two little words.

"Test...subjects?" He spelled out slowly, edging slowly around the other side, wondering if there was any way he could use a drawer as a weapon. He felt so naked without the suit...The eye seemed to pout a little, and sighed.

"Reverting back, are we? Ah, well..." The eye glanced away for a moment, staring down what might have been a hallway, and looked rather nonplussed. "I didn't expect him to wake so soo-AGHHHHHH!" Tony smashed pass the floating ball 'o doom and took off at a dead sprint down the shadow-lined corridor, leaving Wheaton or whatever the fuck its name was long behind...of course, he had damaged the mobility strut, so Mr. Wheat-thin wouldn't be moving anytime soon. He grinned as ahead of him were a set of the black panels that were locked out, and he dove between them, breathing a faint sigh of relief that there was nothing the eyeball could use as a track to follow him.

Fucking love back doors...He glanced up and down the walkway, and decided to head deeper into the darkness, rather than trust the false security of the light above. Besides, he was his own damn flashlight.

...

The first thing he saw when he woke up was a dingy white ceiling, water-stained and slowly molding. Clint sat up, slowly, moving his hands slowly across the bed he'd been sprawled across, eyes narrowed. There was something wrong about this chintzy old hotel room, something that grated on his sniper's nerves. Assuring himself that there wasn't a bomb beneath him, Hawkeye shifted off the bed and stood up, wobbling a little in the odd boots and jumpsuit he'd been dressed in. Orange, with an odd symbol on the upper right chest...and not a one of his weapons cached on him.

Dammit.

"I'm blaming Stark for this..." He growled out, feeling a little unsettled at how rough his voice was...how long had he been down here? For that matter, where the hell was he? The accoustics were all wrong...Clint's head came up suddenly, and he made his way to the door, testing the knob...and was a little nonplussed when it turned without a squeak under his hand. There had been...something; something that echoed faintly. It sounded like...a dying scream. But a scream from what? C'mon, Barton...No one else is here...it's up to you to not fuck this up.

He slid out into the hallway, hugging the walls, and blinked to see sunlight...but not true sunlight. This was from a few hundred UV bulbs, mimicking it almost perfectly, but any human would know the difference, if they were coherant. But if they weren't...his skin started to crawl with the sensation was being watched, and Clint began to jog down the hallway, unnerved by the black, featureless panels that lined it. The light ahead of him was poor; enough that even his sharp eyes couldn't penetrate it, and the floor beneath his feet seemed to sway and move, not much, but a man who routinely perched on tall buildings for the hell of it felt the movement almost instinctually.

Crap.

A faint breeze spurred him on, though, and at last he came to a section of the hallway where the panels looked to be in the process of moving; they'd frozen completely into place, leaving slender gaps that led to shadowy service ducts and a walkway...something that made Clint smirk. What was it Tony said? All the best security in the world, and you still need a way to get around it. God, I love back doors. Moving the panels out of the way, he slipped inside, taking a moment to get his bearings. He was farther down than he'd thought; now that he had cool air flowing over him, he tested the scent, wrinkling his nose at the acrid chemical smell. But it didn't burn his sinuses or his eyes, just made things uncomfortable...he could deal with that.

He closed his eyes for a moment, spreading his feet and testing the orientation of the place, turning slowly towards the east, where the walkway dipped further into the dark bowels of...wherever the fuck he was. And yet, that was where his instincts were pointing him, and dark eyes narrowed. Normally, he trusted his senses...but he almost was afraid to here. But turning the other way...west...no, that wasn't right, either. In fact, he felt a sickening chill roll up his spine as he stared up into the lightening corridor. That was the source of the scream...and he realized, he didn't want to go there. Not now. Not ever.

So down he fled into the darkness, hoping against hope that he could find a way out...

...

It was the footsteps that made Tony stop and look back; there was nothing behind him, but in this gloom, he couldn't tell. It felt like a super-heavy atmospheric effect, but he'd recognized the symptoms a few hours ago, and grimly carried on. There were certain things that a human body could be exposed to that would make food, drink, and even sleep unnecessary; that was the goal of this testing facilities, after all, and Crazy Cave had been one of the best, brightest bastards in that field of biophysics. But the fog had certain...reactions with some people. Tony still felt uneasy, though he chalked that up to being someplace he'd never, ever wanted to set foot in, without his suit, his AI, or his team. Perfectly acceptable reasons to be uneasy...and there they were again.

Tony crouched down, eyes narrowed, and waited, zipping up the body suit to hide the glow of his reactor. Friend or foe, he wanted to be the one to identify first, not they...and he was the only person in the world with a heart of light. He placed a hand on the grating and took a deep breath; there'd been no split offs in the whole time he'd traveled down, so whoever it was had to have come from the panel openings...or from the false light. The steps were light, quick, and firm, and the only reason he'd heard them was because the grating had been coming up in some places. Otherwise...near total silence. His mouth went dry...and then a dark figure came up out of the fog, and Tony's foot snapped out, connecting only with air as the other went airborne, perching on the railing.

"Holy fuck, Stark, the least you could do was warn a guy!" Clint's angry, raspy baritone could have made Tony weep; instead, he growled a little and stood up, crossing his arms.

"And who was it who told me never trust a guy?" Clint blinked, and gave him a weak grin.

"Touche. Not to put too fine a point on it, man, am I glad to see you..." Tony just smiled and clapped him on the shoulder, easing back to lean on the railing as Clint joined him standing up.

"Good to see you too, Barton. I take it you don't have any idea where we are?"

"Not a fuckin' clue." Tony sighed and brushed back his hair, rubbing his face.

"Okay...we're in Aperture Science. We're in the labs that scientists the world over consider Avalon. And we're trapped here." Clint blinked, and Tony shook his head. "It's like Steve's ice, only more diabolical. Aperture ran a massive testing program from the 1950's on; the creator, Cave Johnson, briefly, very briefly, worked with my old man."

"And...this dude was batshit crazy, I take it?"

"Batshit is putting it mildly. He died of moon-rock cancer."

"...No fucking way."

"Way. Now, c'mon. We gotta get out of here..."

"But...how?" Tony turned and looked at him, and Clint shrugged. "You said this place was like Avalon; no one leaves it, then. Right?" Tony just smirked.

"...No one puts Tony in a corner."

...

A few hours later, Tony was grinning; they'd finally hit a jackpot of sorts. Clint watched as the engineer led him down a much older passageway now, one with branchings that led elsewhere, but none of them were what Tony wanted. It was...fascinating to watch; really, Clint was content to let Tony lead, because it meant he could watch the engineer make some truly spectacular deductions. Like the corridor that led to the incinerator; somehow, Tony had known by the feel of the metal that that was a bad way to go, and sure enough, not five minutes later, hot fire had spouted, leaving Clint faintly in awe...though he was very careful to look bored.

How he knew where things were, Clint had no clue; he chalked it up to crazy-scientist-syndrome and just sat back for the ride, though his fingers itched a little, and he wished he had his bow. Not that he couldn't kill a man sixty ways to Sunday with just his hands, but still...it was a comfort thing. Tony seemed to understand; one hand was constantly tapping on his reactor's surface, something that had been a constant source of confusion until the rest of the team had seen the footage from Jarvis...and the gaping, dark hole where Obadiah Stane had ripped Tony's heart out.

So, now, they understood...and really, it was reassuring for the whole Tower now, since without Tony's reactor, and without Tony...they'd have all been a fucked up little group with nothing to their names. Instead, Iron Man gave them a home, and Tony showed them his heart. He still remembered when the storms had blown through New York, and Tony had turned himself into a power outlet for light, phones, warmth...

"Alright, birdbrain. We're here." 'Here' could have been rather loosely defined, but Clint had the sinking feeling that it was the opening in the wall, so similar to the one far, far behind them, and yet...different. The panels were jagged here, broken and falling apart, and the floor dingy, dusty. Peering the gloom, he realized that the lights were gone, and what light inside was washed out, filtered from far above.

"You sure about this?"

"Sure as Steve draws Dummy. I know it looks fuckin' freaky, but I promise, there's nothing harmful inside. One good thing about Aperture, unlike Umbrella, is that if someone died, they fucking stay dead here."

"Umbrella? The pharmaceutical company?"

"...Forget I said anything about them." Clint gave him a look, and Tony gave him one right back, eyes narrow. "Later. Right now, we need weapons...and the offices are the first, and best, place to check."

"Thought you said there was no one down here."

"...Nobody that's squishy. The tech's what you gotta worry about."

Crap? Total crap? Fuck if I know, I'm just writing what the muses tell me.