We had just moved into a small apartment at the bottom of the ocean.
"I'd just like to go over some household expectations," you announced. "For instance, I expect you to clean the jellyfish out of the pipes. Also if we spring a leak I expect you to let me die first as I don't think I could handle drowning down here alone."
I nodded, this all sounded pretty reasonable.
"In return," you said, "I'll cook fish you catch. Healthy-looking ones at least. And I won't complain about how long the commute is by submarine."
That night we made love by the light of the anglerfish. It was a hassle that I'd need to pick up oxygen tanks every day until the algae farm started working, but the moon sure looked pretty nice reflected in the water's surface.