Dust watched the movie with Papyrus, silent the entire time. As usual, Papyrus didn't mind, being the one to make most of the side comments about the performance and getting excited during certain scenes of Mettaton showing off his acting chops.

"Oh I love this part," he grinned happily, resting his skull in his gloved hands while he watched the fabulous robot on screen. Dust listened and nodded along, seemingly more interested in Papyrus than Mettaton. Sans never quite had a liking for robot, but the younger skeleton knew from experience that he wasn't going to keep him from watching it. Sans was fine with him watching practically anything as long as he got to control the parental lock.

The MTT network always had Papyrus' favorite shows on, all starring that amazing robot on screen. Miss Toriel and Sans were always a tad judgmental, but what was there to be critical about? He was human-fighting robot/ghost with amazing cooking skills. How could anyone not love Mettaton? He loved his fans almost as much as he loved himself. Ahem, almost. That level of confidence and self-esteem was something the skeleton found himself relating to on a daily basis. Why people didn't love themselves more always seemed to stump him.

Papyrus hummed along softly to songs and grinned a little wider when the climax of the episode appeared. Occasionally his sockets would turn to peer at the other occupant, whose tired grin didn't fade as he watched the episode along with him.

"I know him, did you know?" he grinned, looking over at Dust. The sudden comment seemed to surprise the smaller skeleton, who blinked and looked over at him with a furrowed brow. He paused for a minute, tilting his skull slightly from left to right as he thought, and gave a nod. "Yeah, I know that," he rasped, looking back down at the lap top. "You don't know him very well, though." Papyrus was almost offended by that idea, until he thought about it a bit more. "Well, we don't really hang out anymore. Nor did we ever hang out, to be honest," he replied, his legs tucking in more as he adjusted the screen. "I see him occasionally, however. Mostly when Frisk enjoys bringing him around whenever he's on his breaks. We don't really talk."

"You wish you were closer, huh?" Dust prodded, no longer looking at the screen, which Papyrus had paused so they could continue to talk. While Papyrus didn't exactly have a whisper voice, he had turned down the volume significantly so they could chat without waking his brother; if he was in there, of course.

Papyrus gave a slight nod, a gloved hand coming to his face as he nodded slowly. It was almost like he was embarrassed about it. "While I certainly think it as a dream come true," he hummed, "I have far to busy a schedule to arrange another friendship, especially after all the friends I already have on social media."

Dust raised he tops of his sockets questioningly. "All twenty-five of them?" he mumbled, to which Papyrus gave him a quick blank stare. No real humor was detected in that statement, but it pestered him all the same. Papyrus crossed his arms in a classic grumpy manner; if he had lips, you could be sure they would be curled right about now. "You ability to know specifically private things is now becoming an annoyance," he huffed. "How am I supposed to surprise you if I ever gave you a friendship hug from behind?"

Dust didn't answer the question, knowing it was rhetorical anyways. "So why don't you talk to him more?" he asked, continuing to pry about Mettaton. A flicker of minor disappointment hit Papyrus, seeing his attempt to divert the conversation had failed. Nonetheless, he responded accordingly. "Mettaton's always busy," he shrugged, fiddling with his red gloves. "I wouldn't want to interrupt his highly involved schedule." He moved to play the rest of the episode, but the not-Sans seemed to have more to say. "Well he's in town this month isn't he?" he pointed out, resting his hands in his own lap. "Why not talk to him the next time you see Frisk. I'm sure he'll be there." This suggestion only received a passing glance. "Wowie, all this pre-destined knowledge you've attained is making me wish I could see into the future, too," Papyrus pouted, but his spirits soon lifted back to their usual jovial ways. "But if you insist, I'm sure he wouldn't mind striking up a chat with someone as great as me!" He looked over at his smaller companion with a fond grin as he began to play the rest of the episode. "You're quite the motivator, did you know that? You're so very helpful, kind of like that phone Frisk has that stores up all those items. Alphys is currently making a few for all of us, so I'm excited for mine."

Upon the episode ending, he shut the laptop and put it to the side. "You're also a good chat! I enjoy talking to you."

Dust's faded grin twitched upwards slightly, letting out a small chuckle. "Thanks, Paps." His eyelights shifted, focusing back up on him. "So can talk about why you're in the closet?" He had a quick look around the closed space. "Any skeletons in your closet?"

Papyrus put a hand proudly to his chest, closing his sockets. "The Great Papyrus never has any skeletons in his closet!" He paused, looking to the side. "Well, except me, sometimes. And I suppose you now, too! Welcome to the great closet of Papyrus, then."

Dust didn't reply, awaiting his response. He didn't seem impatient, however. Like everything about him, he just took it slow, as if he had all the time in the world to just sit there and wait for something that could possibly never come his way. Even Sans wasn't ever this sedated. At least Sans had this small bounce to him that kept him on his toes to tell a pun or time a joke just right. Dust wasn't like that. Everything about him was slowed down by a good hundred percent; even the way he blinked was sluggish.

Papyrus didn't realize he hadn't answered the question until the silence became more than apparent. Sans would have filled the void with a joke, but Dust seemed contempt to let it be.

"I'm not a big fan of naps," Papyrus decided on, clasping his fingers together. "You may see others take hours and hours of naps as night, but I enjoy putting my time into better use."

Dust looked down at the laptop, but seemed to think of a better comment than the obvious. "Why don't you like to sleep, Papyrus?" he asked.

Papyrus watched him for a moment, deciding whether or not to actually answer such personal questions. He still valued his privacy, after all.

"Well, have you seen those lasers in Hotland? The lasers and conveyor belts?" he asked back, though he didn't pause for an answer. "Those are my least favorite kinds of nightmares."

Silence once again reigned, only interrupted by a soft chuckle from Dust, who seemed to find some humor in his comment. "Yeah. Nightmares. I get you. You had those a lot growing up, huh?" There was another chuckle, this time louder as he put a hand to his chest, rubbing at his sternum over his coat that Sans had (unknowingly) lent to him. Papyrus opened his mandible to possibly say something to him, but was soon interrupted when Dust looked up into his sockets, his grin spreading with a slight tremble. "D-do… do you think you'd sleep better if you had a bedtime story?" he whispered, his eyelights seeming to grow in brightness as he asked the question. This took the other by surprise, as he wasn't expecting such a question. "A bedtime story?" he scoffed. "The Great Papyrus is in no need for a bedtime story. He can get himself to sleep whenever he wants to."

"But you'll have nightmares again," Dust pointed out, "like you always used to." Papyrus paused, having to take his question into deep consideration, but ultimately shook his head. "No thank you," he declined. "As much as I appreciate it, I'm past that. I haven't had a bedtime story read to me since-"

"Since the Underground," Dust finished for him, visibly shivering in the darkness of the closet. "Yeah… I understand."

"You're cold again," Papyrus noted, taking hold of the skeleton's humerus, causing him to jolt in surprise at the touch. Papyrus didn't flinch, however, almost expecting this out of him every time. He took Dust's trembling hand in his, covering it with his firm gloves, watching him lower his head and hug himself with his other arm until the shaking was reduced back to its minimum. Papyrus gently squeezed his hand, a comforting gesture to let him know he was going to be alright. "Why don't we talk about you instead?" he offered. "After all, you woke up fairly quickly from your sleep. Why can't you sleep? You always look tired after all, what with your shoulders all slumped and how slow you are. It's like you've become lazier… but not really at the same time."

Dust blinked, lowering his skull slightly as his eyelights seemed to dull slightly. "I just have too much to think about," he murmured, bringing a hand back to bring his hood back up over his skull. "Too much for sleep, anyways. They like to keep me awake when I need rest, so I tend to skip sleep altogether."

"'They'? Who's that?" Papyrus inquired, now curious as to who was keeping Dust awake. "If they are disturbing you from your busy schedule, you must tell them to politely back off of your beeswax."

Dust couldn't seem to help but chuckle at this, shaking his head as he rose a hand and placed it on his own sternum. "No one. Just my thoughts. They keep me up at night." Papyrus slowly let go of his hand, but was surprised to find him still holding on tightly after he let go. He didn't mind, however, instead using it as an opportunity to pull his friend towards him and into his lap, taking the surprised and stiffening Dust and wrapping his arms around him in a small hug. The smaller skeleton was slow to react, but soon responded by doing the same, resting his head against the other's ribcage in a noticeably exhausted fashion.

"When's the last time you've slept?" Papyrus asked softly, keeping him close as he lessened the usually loud tone of his voice. To this, he didn't receive an answer for several minutes, to which he was happy to wait for. It had to be no more than a couple of days. After all, he was almost an exact copy of Sans, and if he knew anything about copies of Sanses, it was that they liked to sleep. Sure, it was a bit of an annoyance, but it was Sans they were talking about. Papyrus had learned to accept it overtime, knowing his brother wouldn't ever change unless the world might be ending. Even then, he might be too lazy to really do anything about it.

"I don't know."

Papyrus paused, taken aback by the answer. "Excuse me?" he replied, to which he got the same answer. "I don't know."

It took Papyrus a few seconds to respond, unsure of how to even go about it.

"You… you don't know the last time you slept?" he asked carefully, unsure of himself now. He felt his soul ache when Dust slowly nodded against his chest.

"I can't remember," he rasped, closing his sockets as he spoke. "I… just don't know."

Papyrus didn't speak. Memories of the dust pile and the bones flashed through his skull as he suddenly felt as weak as Dust right about then. An empathetic sadness filled his soul as his arms wrapped tighter around the smaller skeleton.

"Would… a bedtime story help you rest easier?" he asked, pulling himself away some to look down at him properly. Dust visibly tensed, clearly surprised by the proposal. Nonetheless, he gave a slow nod, his lights of his sockets beginning to glow brighter once again. "Yeah, I'd like that," he murmured, releasing his arms from Papyrus. However, it was Papyrus who refused to let go this time, taking a curt stand with Dust almost cradled in his arms as he made an exit out of the closet.

Setting Dust gently on the edge of the bed, Papyrus looked over the bookshelf, before picking out a large, thin book and handing it over to his companion. "I would like this one, please," he requested, before snuggling under the bedsheets with a small grin. "You can start at the beginning, or else it won't make sense."

Dust looked down at the thin book, his sockets able to read the large, colorful title, even in the dark. However, he turned on the lamp on the nightstand, just so Papyrus could see the pictures. Papyrus always loved seeing the pictures. His grin widened as he turned the cover to the title page for the pajama-clad skeleton to properly see it's imaginative colors.

"Peek-a-Boo with Fluffy Bunny," he read aloud. He stopped for a moment, lowering his skull as if to take a deep breath. Papyrus waited with anticipation, no longer feeling the embarrassment he once had whenever thinking of this exact situation. He leaned forward, giving Dust a comforting squeeze on the shoulder, one hat was rewarded with a soft grin. Then, he began to read the book to Papyrus softly under the dull light of the shaded lamp.

Papyrus had to admit: that ending got him.