[He chuckles, softly, maybe that underlying current of insecurity still there but, for the most part, just overly fond at Keith's quick, expected response. Of course you'd say that.]
[He bumps his forehead to his, impossibly gentle, before drawing away from him-- shifting first beside him and then grasping his waist and rolling them over so Keith is on top of him instead and he's looking up at him. There's a comfort to having Keith's weight on him, and his hands linger on him.]
You're sweet. [But wrong, in this case-- but he's not going to press it. He smiles up at him, gently.] And stubborn.