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I've Read Enough Fanfic to Know Where This Is Going

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If someone had asked you where you'd say your story started, you wouldn't have said that it would be here. You'd had a lot of good stories start in a basement, but this one wasn't one of them. Out of all the places you'd been, this basement wasn't even in your top ten. It wasn't even on Buzzfeed's Top 10 Places to Visit Before You Die.

One moment you're happily lounging around in bed after having a good time, the next you're spinning through some dizzying space and being spit out in a crumpled pile with your partners. A large machine took up the majority of the far wall behind the three of you. A low hum filled the room as the machine powered down.

The lights in the room flickered rapidly off and on until the ones nearest your trio also sparked and burst as the electricity surged. Shards of thin glass rained down. You found yourself being covered by a large arm and torso above you as the shards fell, breaking into even smaller splinters when they hit the concrete floor.

As quickly as it had happened, it was over. A stampede of footsteps sounded above, sending small drifts of dust and plaster down to join the glass. You take a moment to gather your bearings and check on your boys.

Sans was crouched over you, using his bulk to shield you. For that matter, Papyrus also seemed to be attempting to cover the rest of you that Sans was unable. You could feel the sharp tips of his fingers digging into your upper thighs and the push of his knees on your calves.

"doll, you good?" Sans's rough baritone vibrated through you from how close he was. You clear your throat and nod, reaching up to pat his shoulder. He took it as the instruction it was and stood from his crouch to stand beside you. His shoes crunched over yet more glass as he moved to heft you up by your upper arms.

"Where are we, Sans? If this happened because of that BLASTED MACHINE, I'LL--!" Papyrus's voice was the opposite of his brothers. Still deeper than expected but louder and sharper. He puts some magic into his voice to project it clearly. At least, that's your theory. Sans is the opposite. He's content to growl his words. It had the same effect.

"We weren't near the machine, though. And even if we were, we've never been pulled through before. This one isn't ours." You say, turning to inspect the large machine behind the three of you.

There's a few panels missing that expose wires and rapidly flashing computer chips. Some parts, mostly near the bottom, appear dented and scuffed, like it'd been kicked out of frustration and anger too many times.

You knew the feeling.

"If it isn't ours then whose is it? Where did we end up? When did we end up?" Papyrus scowls, immediately beginning to move through the room and sift through stacks of papers on the nearby desk and lifting a few items here and there. He's in the process of dumping a cup full of pens and pencils out onto the desk when the door at the top of the stairs slams open and a trio of footsteps begin slamming down the stairs.

Sans and Papyrus both jump into action and throw themselves in front of you, Sans's bulk shielding you more than Papyrus's height. You hunch just a bit to peek out through the tiniest of gaps between them.

"Damn it, I can't see through your big boney butts--" You're shushed, which kind of pisses you off, but you don't let it get to you because in the next moment the room is filled with boisterous and angry voices.