"You've seriously never seen Titanic before?" Mikey asks, looking down at his boyfriend, whom he's decided to swamp in thick, warm blankets.

"No, but I'm not gonna cry," Pete says.

"Yeah, sure. Keep telling yourself that," Mikey says, leaning down and wrapping his free arm around Pete. "Ready?"

"Start the movie, Mikey, because you know what I am? I'm fuckin' ready."

"You can't blame me for that voice! I was drunk!"

"Yeah, so was Frank. Stop making excuses."

"Whatever," Mikey grins, kissing Pete's cheek and starting the movie.

By the end of the movie, Pete was in tears. "It's not fucking fair! No! There was room for two, damnit, there was room for two. And that cold-hearted bitch knew it!"

"Hey, sh, it's just a movie,"

"But there were real people on a real boat that that's probably happened at least once!" Pete says, wiping his eyes with a Kleenex. "What if that had been you and I?"

"Was that rhetorical?"

"Not if you have an answer."

"Fine. I'd make sure you got on the raft, and since I'm too tall for both of us to fit, I'd find another piece of debris, like a door, and get on that. And I'd make sure that my raft never strayed away from yours."

"See? That's my Mikeyway! Smart as fucking hell," Pete grinned, his eyes still red. "Wait, why am I Rose?"

"Shut up," Mikey prompted, closing his eyes, "and go the fuck to sleep."

"Do I have to?"

"Please go to sleep? For me?"

Pete lets out a loud, dramatic sigh. "Fine."

Somehow, when he wakes up, Mikey is in their bed, held close by Pete.