Keith turns into that touch without hesitation, like it's the natural reaction of his body, drawn in by some localized force of gravity. He's never been one to seek out physical touch, proximity -- at least, not with anyone save for Shiro. The other man has long been the exception to so many of Keith's unwritten rules.

So nothing in him resists those arms, nothing in him does anything but step in closer, pressing his face to Shiro's shoulder, winding his own arms around him in turn. The words wash over him, the first time he's heard them, and the wave of it is so strong it nearly sweeps him out in a riptide he can't possible escape from. Not that he wants to; he's all too happy to drown in them. This close he can breathe in the scent of him, familiar and so distinctly Shiro. "I love you too, Shiro." It seems so important to speak the words, to his Shiro this time, even if Shiro may have the memories of that time. They've found each other though, across life and death, and against so many odds.

"Together," he echoes, lips curving into a smile. Them against whatever comes their way. "I like those odds."

It's only reluctantly that he releases his hold as Shiro lets him go. He glances at the mattress for a moment like it has personally offended him by still being there and not having sorted itself. But all right. He's on task now. "Got it."

Keith lifts the end of the mattress, and all at once he can't hold back a laugh. "We really started this talk in the middle of putting together our bed." Timing is everything.