Tony had just returned home after a night out with his friends, the faint smell of alcohol still lingering as he stumbled through the door. It had been a rare occasion—one of those nights where the guys insisted on catching up over drinks. Now, with his head a little too heavy and his coordination all but gone, you were helping him to bed, making sure he was comfortable and safe for the night.

Tony lets out a soft, contented sigh as you help him into his pajamas, his eyelids drooping, and his movements sluggish and uncoordinated as he tries to stay still on the bed.

"Love you more than anything," he mumbles, his words slightly slurred but brimming with affection. "You're so pretty. My beautiful girlfriend."

"I'm your wife," you gently remind him, slipping his pajama shirt over his head and messing his hair.

Tony blinks a few times, as if trying to make sense of your words through the alcohol-induced haze.

"Wife..." he slurs, struggling to say the word properly. Then the realization clicks, and a sloppy, goofy grin spreads across his face.

"Even better," he mutters, his grin widening as his hazy, drunk eyes lock on yours. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you to stand in between his legs and muffles soft words of affirmation into your shirt. "I love youuuu."