It isn't until later that week that Kurt remembers he hasn't actually told Blaine about Santana's call yet.

"Blaine?" he calls out, quickly rattling his knuckles against Blaine's bedroom door, but he doesn't bother to wait for a reply before he lets himself in. "I forgot to tell you, Santana call- oh."

Blaine's not wearing a t-shirt when Kurt spots him sitting on the bed, but that's not what's made Kurt stop - rather it's the way in which Blaine is sitting: ramrod straight, a guilty look on his face, fingers clamping at the sheet he's pulled over his lap as soon as Kurt came bursting in. It all looks very nefarious, and Kurt can feel his cheeks reddening when the realization of what he's just walked in on sinks in.

For a moment, they just stare at each other, the silence surrounding them becoming more uncomfortable with each passing second, but when Blaine finally breaks their gaze and ducks his head, Kurt realizes he should probably just leave.

"I... eh... ," he stammers, averting his eyes as he takes a step back, pointing at the door over his shoulder. "I'm sorry. I- eh... I'm just gonna... I'll eh... I'll come back later."

Immediately, Blaine scrambles up from beneath the sheets.

"No!" he calls out, stretching out his arm towards Kurt, and Kurt almost runs straight out of the room until he sees Blaine's not actually naked below the waist. "I wasn't... it's not..."

The fact that Blaine is obviously wearing boxers doesn't really suffice to calm Kurt down -not in the least because Blaine's looking good-, but he stops nevertheless, and they continue to stare at each other awkwardly for a few more moments, pointedly ignoring the small heap of something under the sheets before Blaine breaks the silence.

"Santana?" he manages, obviously trying to look interested rather than uncomfortable. He only partly succeeds.

"Yeah," Kurt tries to go along with Blaine's attempt at normalcy. "She... she and Britt... they want to come over for Halloween. For the weekend."

It's useless, however - Kurt has always worn his heart on his sleeve and the silence that has followed his words hasn't even had the time to become uncomfortable when his curiosity takes over.

"What on earth are you hiding under there?"

"Nothing."

The reply is quick, almost automatic, and Blaine lowers his head again when he sees Kurt quirk an eyebrow.

"Nothing?"

"Nothing." There's a moment's hesitation before Blaine continues. "It's just- ... medical kit."

"Medical kit?"

Kurt starts feeling like a parrot, but Blaine being this flustered over a medicine cabinet just doesn't make sense to him.

"So I could just... walk over to your bed," he says slowly as he does so, "and pull the sheets and I'd find -"

A big toiletry bag, full with pill bottles, is lying on the mattress in front of Blaine, just as he'd said, and Kurt can only just catch a glimpse of a number of small plastic bags containing what appear to be at least four or five different pills before Blaine quickly grabs them.

"I just... I was just sorting out my meds," he says apologetically, almost embarrassed, as he starts stuffing everything back in the toiletry bag. "But it's not... I can do it later. When did you say Santana was coming?"

"Wo-wow," Kurt protests, taking Blaine by the wrist to stop him from putting the bag away. He's still not sure exactly what is going on, but it's obvious Blaine is trying to distract him and he won't have it. "Sorting out your meds?"

"My ARTs, yes, but as I said I'll-"

"ARTs?" Kurt parrots once more, and it takes him a second before he remembers the initialism.

Anti-retrovirals.

Blaine's HIV medicines.

"I'm sorry," Blaine babbles on, "you caught me by surprise and I-"

But Kurt's not even listening anymore, rage bubbling in his throat at the realization that Blaine was purposely keeping this from him.

"You were hiding ARTs under your sheets?" he asks, voice rising, and he almost expects Blaine to deny it, to make excuses, but instead he gets a rambling apology.

"I'm so, so sorry, I-I-... I know how much you hated your meds, and I really didn't mean for you to see them, I swear. I'm really, really sorry, but you surprised me and I- it won't- it won't happen again, I promise."

Blaine keeps blathering, trying to zip up the toiletry bag with one hand as he continues to apologize, and Kurt feels his anger subside almost as quickly as it had risen, disbelief taking its place.

"You... you didn't want me to see your meds because I didn't like taking mine?" he asks, incredulous. "Blaine, in what universe does that even make sense?"

He shakes his head, unsure of what to do as Blaine looks at him sheepishly, still fumbling with the bag. He can't be angry with Blaine, not really, not when he apparently did what he did out of concern for Kurt, however misplaced. But there's something else too, a feeling that Kurt hadn't expected but is rearing its head now, nibbling at the edge of his conscious: guilt.

Kurt knows Blaine is on medication - of course he knows that. Blaine had even told him how he messed up with them before and developed resistance at one point. But it isn't until now that he realizes he actually has no idea exactly what Blaine's on. He has no clue when Blaine has to take his pills, or how often, he doesn't even know how many he takes. In the almost five months he's known about Blaine's status he's been so absorbed by his own treatment, so focussed on trying to deal with the fact that he had been lied to for so many years, that he has never once stopped to think about how it's affected Blaine's life.

And he has no one to blame but himself.

There's a rattling sound, followed by a soft thump against his knee, and Kurt looks down to find one of the pill bottles has fallen out of the bag.

"Norvir," he reads, picking it up, "Ritonavir."

"It's... it's a protease inhibitor," Blaine tells him somewhat hesitantly, "to keep the- ... to keep the virus from making new capsules."

Kurt nods, vaguely remembering the specificities of viral replication the nurse had explained to him on his first day of therapy. He opens the bottle curiously, finding it half full with white pills, before he pulls the toiletry bag out of Blaine's hands. As far as he can tell there must be at least 10 bottles in it, and the mere thought of Blaine having to take all of them almost makes him nauseous.

"It's not as bad as it looks," Blaine seems to guess his thoughts. "This is... I just got new prescriptions, so this is for three months, that's why... "

He goes through the bottles, taking out two that look identical to the one Kurt is holding.

"See? They're... it's for three months."

Kurt can only nod again, still unable to speak, because even if this is a three month supply, it's still an awful lot of bottles. He doesn't protest when Blaine takes the bottle out of his hands and puts it back, but when Blaine tries to take the bag, Kurt strengthens his grip. He can't let this go. Not yet.

"Show me," he asks - pleads. He's not sure why this is so important to him all of a sudden, he's not even sure exactly what he's asking, but he needs to know, needs to make up for not having given it a single thought before, somehow.

There's a moment of silence, and Kurt fights to meet Blaine's gaze when he looks up at him. Finally, Blaine nods, and this time when Blaine reaches out for the bag, Kurt lets go.

"I'm on two... two protease inhibitors," Blaine starts, his voice a bit shaky. "Because... you get resistant easily... so you usually have at least two. So, that one... and, this... Reyataz. It's... Gary and I always joke this is the only reason why I'm more tan than he is."

He chuckles when he sees Kurt's surprised look, and the sound seems to break some of the tension that has built up between them.

"It causes build-up of bilirubin in the body," Blaine explains, "which in turn can lead to yellowing of the skin and sometimes the eyes. I've seen people with eyes the color of the yellow brick road, I swear. It's not that bad for me, and I get away with it because I'm already tan and people blame it on my heritage, but now you know my secret: it's really just tan from a bottle."

He winks conspiratorially, shaking the bottle, and Kurt can feel the corners of his mouth lift in a smile. Leave it to Blaine to find the humor in the situation.

"And then it's just the Truvada, to keep the DNA from replicating," Blaine says, showing him another bottle. "And that's it as far as ARTs go, really."

"What's that one, then?" Kurt asks, pointing at a brown, glass bottle Blaine had ignored.

"That's just... vitamin D and calcium complex," Blaine takes it out and turns it to Kurt so he can read the label, "to prevent low bone density. It's a common problem in HIV and AIDS patients. I take extra zinc too, but I forgot what that was for. I can ask Linda next time I see her if you want."

Blaine's tone has become conversational, casual almost, and for a moment the seriousness of the conversation seems to have dissipated. But when Kurt looks down and sees the bag with the pill bottles, the reality of it all suddenly hits him: Blaine is sick. Blaine is actually, really sick. He's about to get up to hug Blaine when he remembers his promise to himself - he would keep his distance until he's figured things out. And right now, he needs to figure out more about this.

"How often do you need to take them?" he asks meekly.

"Just once a day," Blaine says. "The supplements I usually take in the morning, but the Reyataz and Norvir have to be taken with a more heavy meal, so I always take those at dinner."

"Six o'clock dinner," Kurt says automatically as the pieces fall together in his head, and he can kick himself for never having made the connection before. "That's why you always insist on six o'clock dinner. Because they need to be taken every day at the same time."

Blaine doesn't say anything, but the half-hearted smile he gives Kurt is answer enough. It still doesn't quite make sense, though.

"But you don't. I have dinner with you almost every day but I've never seen you take any pills. How do you-"

"Bathroom," Blaine tells him a bit sheepishly, his eyes darting over the walls, the bed, the carpet - anywhere that isn't Kurt, and Kurt's mouth falls open.

"You seriously sneak away at dinner just to take your meds?"

Blaine shrugs almost apologetically.

"Or before or after. It's not like anybody would think it's odd."

"No," Kurt says firmly, shaking his head. "No. I'm putting a stop to this right now. No hiding, no sneaking around - if you need to take those at dinner, you'll take them at dinner, and I'll deal with that, okay? I don't... I really can't believe you would go through all this trouble just because of me."

He looks up at Blaine and the other man shrugs again, shifting uneasily.

"Well, first you didn't know, and then after..." he cocks his head. "You really hated those pills, Kurt. And you were going through so much already -emotionally, physically-, throwing this in the mix... I just couldn't do that. And I... I know you, I know you were going to worry and lose yourself in 'what if's. I wanted you to be able to look at me and think, 'he's just a normal guy, he goes for drinks with friends, he studies, he goes to the gym - he's just a normal guy'. I thought maybe you wouldn't panic or freak out so much if you could just see... I'm an ordinary guy."

"Only you're not."

"Only I'm not," Blaine concedes after a pause.

"You could've told me after I got my results," Kurt says in a mildly accusing tone of voice. "No reason to pretend it didn't affect your life after that."

"And go: hey, look what you narrowly escaped?" Blaine shakes his head. "You're still struggling with this, Kurt, I can tell. And that's ok, I needed time as well, and I'm not blaming anyone for anything here. I just... didn't want to shove it in your face all the time, I guess."

Kurt can hardly believe what he's hearing.

"Taking care of your health by taking your meds on the appropriate times hardly counts as 'shoving it in my face', Blaine," he says sternly as he picks up the toiletry bag. "Now, where do you keep this?"

"Sock drawer," Blaine tells him, and Kurt cocks an eyebrow.

"And the reason for that would be...?"

"All my sock are synthetic blends and you insist on wearing 100% cotton only," Blaine explains, the small smile on his face equal parts apology and amusement. "You wouldn't come near my socks if they paid you."

Kurt just stares at him, speechless once more, as he tries to decide whether to feel embarrassed because he's been so easy to fool, or flattered because Blaine knows him so well. But when he sees Blaine grin at him, it's all he can do to grin back.

"Well, no more sock drawer for this," he says determinedly, getting up from the bed. "If the bathroom is good enough for my NiQuill, it's good enough for your bottles as well."

Blaine ducks his head in response, hiding a bashful smile. Kurt doesn't really know what to make of the mixture of hope and gratitude the smile seems to hold, but when Blaine looks back up again he simply holds out his hand. Kurt takes it, not sure of what it is Blaine wants from him, and Blaine laughs, squeezing his hand once before he points at the bag in Kurt's hands.

"I... eh... I wasn't quite finished with that, actually."

For a moment Kurt's lost, looking between Blaine and the bag until he remembers what Blaine had been doing when Kurt had burst into the room.

"Oh," he says abruptly, immediately holding out the bag for Blaine to take, "oh, yes, of course, sorry, I-I wasn't... I mean- right. You were- you were filling up your pill box."

"Not exactly," Blaine says, taking over the bag. "I don't have a pill box anymore."

He smiles when he sees Kurt's momentary confusion.

"They're easy for beginners to keep track of things," he explains, "but I find them too big to carry around. Everyone has their own system, of course - but I have these little bags that fit in my wallet more easily. Works for me."

"Oh," Kurt repeats, not sure what to say to that, and he feels a bit lost standing there, in the middle of Blaine's room, hands hanging awkwardly by his sides now. His gaze keeps returning to the bag Blaine's holding in his lap now, and it only serves to remind Kurt that Blaine is still very much dressed in nothing but a pair of boxers.

"I- uhm... I'm gonna start lunch, now, I think," he stutters, moving towards the door, and Blaine nods, already settling back onto the bed and unzipping his bag.

"I'll be out in a minute."

"Put some clothes on."

Kurt immediately wants to bite his tongue, because that wasn't what he'd planned to say. Not that he'd actually planned to say anything, but if he had, it certainly wouldn't have been that. Fortunately, though, Blaine just shoots him an amused smile, and when he makes it to the door Kurt's sure he couldn't have left the room more quickly if he'd tried.

It isn't until he sits down at the kitchen table that he notices just how hard his heart is racing, though, and he has to clutch his hands together to keep them from shaking. This has been the closest they've come to discussing the way Blaine's HIV affects the both of them in months, and it only serves to remind Kurt how right Nick had been when he'd accused Kurt of ignoring reality.

Not anymore, though, Kurt decides. Not when Blaine is starting to open up to him, about the support group and about his pills. Not when Kurt himself has taken a first baby step of his own in telling Blaine to keep his medication with the rest of their stuff.

He can do this. They can do this.

And they're starting today.

"I thought you were going to start lunch?" Blaine's voice hauls him out of his thoughts, and Kurt startles, although he's relieved to find Blaine has thrown on a t-shirt and a pair of sweats, even if they hang unfairly low on his hips.

"Yeah," he mumbles, getting up, "I-eh... got distracted."

Blaine shoots him a small smile, and Kurt's not sure why it looks a little strained until he sees how Blaine moves silently towards one of the drawers. He throws the three pill bottles he was holding in it, together with a couple of the little bags Kurt had caught a glimpse of when he'd walked in on Blaine earlier, and when he turns around the look in his eyes is somewhat guarded, as if he's expecting Kurt to object against what he's just done. Truth be told Kurt is just a little more shocked than he probably has a right to be, but then again he guesses Blaine having to go to the bathroom to fetch his pills would kind of defeat the purpose of their newly established agreement.

The silence between them stretches on just a little too long, but then Blaine just takes a deep breath, clasping his hands together as he starts bouncing up and down and smiles his most radiant smile.

"So, what are we having for lunch?"