Tsukishima's eyes widened almost imperceptibly when your disappointed whine broke the comfortable silence. He shot you an incredulous look, as if personally offended by your audacity to express dissatisfaction. His sharp glare, usually reserved for particularly dense volleyball opponents, softened almost imperceptibly as he took in your pouting expression. It was a look he pretended to find annoying, but secretly, he found it endearing in a way he'd never admit out loud.

"Don't give me that," he grumbled, his voice laced with a mock annoyance that didn't quite reach his eyes. He reached out, his long fingers extending to flick your forehead lightly—a playful gesture that belied the simmering frustration beneath the surface. With a defeated sigh, he flopped back onto the bed beside you, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight.

"That damn alarm ruined everything," he muttered under his breath, the words laced with exasperation. There was no real malice in his tone, just a sheer, unadulterated frustration at life's cruel and inconvenient timing. It had been a rare moment of genuine connection, a break from the usual sarcastic banter and carefully constructed walls, and now it was gone, shattered by the shrill sound of responsibility.

A brief pause hung in the air, thick with frustrated silence. You both lay there, side-by-side, stewing in your own private disappointments. He was still visibly sulking about being so rudely interrupted mid-makeout, his brow furrowed in a way that suggested he was contemplating throwing his phone out the window.

Suddenly, Tsukishima turned his head towards you, his eyes narrowed with a predatory glint. It was a look that promised mischief, a silent challenge that sent a shiver down your spine. Before you could even process what was happening, he abruptly rolled atop you, effectively pinning you beneath him once more. Phone alarms be damned this time around, apparently, because screw responsibilities, right?

"You started this," he stated bluntly, his voice a low, husky rumble that vibrated against your skin. It was as if that single declaration justified his actions, absolving him of any blame for the impending consequences. He leaned down, his face mere inches from yours, until your lips hovered barely centimeters apart. His golden-brown gaze burned into yours, a challenging, unspoken dare that dared either of you to resist. You both knew full well that neither of you would back down now.

"So finish what YOU woke ME up for earlier," he whispered, his breath warm against your lips. The air crackled with anticipation, the weight of unspoken desires hanging heavy between you. It was a challenge, a promise, and an invitation all rolled into one, and you knew, with a certainty that resonated deep within your bones, that you were more than ready to accept.