Disclaimer: Not mine.

Warnings: None.

Notes: Companion fic to "Saving." Rather snarkier than its counterpart. Iruka's POV this time.

Discarding

Iruka liked to be prepared for any situation. He kept his weapons sharpened and at the ready, even when he wasn't on active duty. He ran evacuation drills with his class until they could reach the safety zone in less than five minutes. When he took Naruto out for ramen he was sure to bring extra cash and if his knee acted up he brought an umbrella to work. In his mind, there was no need to do without or be uncomfortable when such things could easily be avoided with a little foresight and planning.

There were many advantages to thinking ahead. Doing the laundry before Kakashi was down to his last pair of boxers meant he didn't have to listen to hours' worth of complaints while the clothing hung dry. Buying milk in the evening meant he didn't have to go out at the crack of dawn to get more so they could eat breakfast. Saving old clothes meant he'd never be at a loss for dust rags and keeping cracked mugs meant he'd always have somewhere to store his pencils.

He simply didn't allow the phrase "here today, gone tomorrow" a place in his life.

That being said, he was a bit put out when he returned home from the academy to find the living room full of garbage bags, Kakashi covered in dust, and the apartment looking suspiciously uncluttered.

"What are you doing?" he demanded, barely remembering to kick off his shoes in his haste to rescue the result of years of hard saving. He damn near sprinted across the room, coming to stand defensively between his lover and the mound of bags.

"Cleaning, I think," the copy-nin replied unabashedly, absently rubbing some schmutz off his wrist, "though it's getting hard to tell."

"And by cleaning you mean throwing all my things out?" He could practically feel the vein twitching on his forehead.

"Not all of them. Just some," Kakashi corrected, looking far too blasé. "Mainly the useless stuff."

"Just what exactly have you thrown away?" Iruka snapped, hardly able to restrain himself from ripping open bags at random and liberating their contents. He could tell just by the shape of one sack that it held the bundle of wire hangers he'd been storing under the bed.

Kakashi could call them useless all he wanted. That didn't change the fact that they came in surprisingly handy when teaching the younger students trap-making.

"Mmm, hard to say. I think some toothless combs are in there somewhere, and some empty toothpaste tubes. Or was that empty detergent bottles? Maybe it was both." Kakashi musingly rubbed his chin, purposely ignoring Iruka's pointed glare. Not only did he seem to have decided he'd already won the argument they were embarking on, he also appeared to be nursing the misconception that Iruka was just going to lie down and let him win.

But he would teach him. Oh, yes. He would teach him.

"I thought we agreed we'd do this together," Iruka said reasonably, fighting to appear composed, "and that we wouldn't throw away anything that was potentially useful."

"Did we?" Kakashi's eye curved upward, signifying his happy face –the fake one. "I don't remember agreeing to that. Welcome home, by the way. It's been boring without you."

False affability was a well-known diversionary tactic and he'd be damned if he'd fall for it. Especially since Kakashi used it so often… probably because it usually worked. Today, however, was destined to be an exception. Today was the day Umino Iruka was going to bully, strong-arm, trick and otherwise manipulate his way into saving his collection of very-not-useless things.

He wasn't sure how he was going to do so yet, but figured anger was a good place to start, seeing as how Kakashi hadn't fallen for his display of counterfeit calm.

"You're lying," Iruka accused harshly, stalking forward to roughly jab a finger into his lover's chest.

"Lying?" The jounin somehow managed to look indignant even with three-quarters of his face covered. It didn't make him look any less guilty, though, especially when he had several pieces of shredded newspaper caught in his hair. "I would lie?"

"Yes, you would. In fact, not only are you lying, you're also covered in filth and you're violating my perimeters!" he ranted, working up a good rage.

"Maa, I think we violated those a while ago, Iruka-sensei," Kakashi observed thoughtfully, scratching behind his ear.

It was not a good time to spontaneously combust, yet that was what he felt like he was about to do. Viciously choking down his embarrassment, he reminded himself that he was Very Angry and fell into one of his favored teacher stances, the one where his arms were folded across his chest, his chin was tilted down and he was glaring upwards with narrowed eyes. "Not funny," he snarled. "Not funny at all."

Unfortunately, what struck fear into the hearts of twelve year olds did nothing to seasoned jounin.

"Nice, Iruka," Kakashi complimented him. "I'll have to try that one the next time the brats complain about missing lunch."

Scare tactics obviously weren't cutting it. It was time to switch gears and try something more unexpected. Dropping his arms with a sigh, he headed towards the futon, making sure his movements simply oozed dejection. He sat down with a thunk and hunched forward with his elbows on his knees.

"Can I at least go through the bags before you take them outside?" he asked resignedly.

"You can see what's in them, I guess," Kakashi allowed.

Hook.

"And if I find something really important I can salvage it?" he asked, letting his eyes water a little bit, just enough to make them teary, but not so much that he actually looked choked up.

"If you find anything that's that important to you," his lover agreed.

Line.

"Even if you disagree?" he implored, leaning forward and letting his lower lip quiver ever so slightly.

"Even if I disagree," Kakashi nodded.

And sinker. Iruka prepared to preen.

"…I'll at least listen to your reasons before tossing it out anyway," the copy-nin finished.

And the sinker was regurgitated, came flying through the air and sucker punched him right in the gut. False hope was a bitch.

"You are such a jerk," he snarled, throwing himself to his feet.

"And you've cried once the whole time I've known you," Kakashi smiled, genuinely this time. "You don't play the role of the slighted innocent very well at all, Iruka-kun."

"Gee, thanks," he replied sarcastically. "Now are we going to compromise on this or are you just going to go ahead and do what you want regardless of what I think?"

Kakashi's visible eye flashed; he'd been successful in irritating him. Now he just had to decide if that was a good or a bad thing.

The decision didn't take long.

"A compromise, eh?" the jounin said with false lightness. "That seems reasonable. How about this? You look through the place and if you can tell me what I threw away, you get to keep it. If you forget about it, though, it's fair game."

Iruka glared. "You're on."

"Good," his lover gave a feral grin. "You have three minutes."

Two minutes later found every trash bag emptied across the living room floor, Iruka smirking triumphantly and Kakashi looked very, very disgruntled.

"I underestimated you," he admitted.

"Yep," Iruka agreed, overlooking his treasure with satisfaction. He hadn't forgotten anything, not even the dumbbell set that was missing half its weights or the shoebox full of rubberband balls. He was so damn good.

"You didn't miss a thing."

"Not a one." He successfully resisted the urge to gloat outwardly, but of course Kakashi noticed anyway and pouted.

"I'm sleeping on the futon tonight, aren't I?" he sighed, kicking dolefully at the sea of empty bags surrounding him.

"Sure am," Iruka said cheerfully, and went to return his hoard to its rightful home. He did so love winning.

The next time Kakashi attempted to clear the apartment, he got the trash bags all the way to the curb before Iruka returned.

"What are you doing?" he hissed, spitting mad but unwilling to make a scene in public.

"I thought I'd do a little spring cleaning," Kakashi nonchalantly informed him, adding two more bags to the already imposing pile. Iruka would have been impressed by the size of the stack, except for the fact that it was his stuff it was made out of.

"Kakashi, you don't do spring cleaning in the middle of winter."

"Really?" The jounin looked at the gray sky contemplatively. "You know, I could have sworn I heard some birds singing earlier. Did you hear them, too?"

Good lord. If he allowed that particular train of thought to continue, the argument would never be settled. They'd wind up wandering far off along some tangent about the migratory habits of sparrows or something equally ludicrous. It was hard enough to get Kakashi to stay focused on something when he wasn't interested; if he allowed himself to drift off, too, they were doomed.

Besides, he was mad now.

"Give me the bag," he demanded, trying to take it out of Kakashi's hand.

"Iruka," his lover began.

"Give me the bag!" he insisted, starting to grapple in earnest.

"Fine," the copy-nin shrugged, releasing his grip. Iruka, clutching the sack, stalked up the steps and through their apartment's open door. As he went he heard Kakashi mutter something under his breath about the bag's contents being trash, but resolutely ignored him. He swore, you could stab the man in the back with a Chinese star and he wouldn't say two words, but question his judgment and he'd rip you a new one without thinking twice.

Shaking his head in both aggravation and bemusement, he ripped open the bag, prepared to put its contents away… only he wasn't quite sure where to put moldy banana peels and used bandages except the same place he'd just rescued them from.

"KAKASHI!" He shot out of the apartment and onto the landing, not even stopping to put on his sandals. He found the object of his disaffection sitting at the bottom of the stairs, chatting amiably with their elderly neighbor. At his scream they both looked up and Fujima-sama quickly chose to make herself scarce. He absently made a mental note to apologize to her later.

Iruka stomped down the stairs, stopping two steps up from the jounin. He stood there, looming in what he hoped was an intimidating fashion, and nudged Kakashi's back not-very-gently with his foot. "That was low," he growled.

"I fight dirty," his lover agreed. And he did. Iruka knew this, as he knew all his lover's flaws. That didn't make them any easier to deal with. Knowledge was power, ignorance was bliss and frankly Iruka was confused as to which was more advantageous. Sometimes he swore the more he learned about his lover, the more he needed to know. There were times when he just didn't know where to begin asking. This, however, was not one of those times.

"You're going to tell me which of the bags really have trash in them," he demanded. Because he was not wasting his time digging through rotten potatoes, half-eaten cups of ramen and dirty napkins.

"They all have trash in them."

"Kakashi."

"See for yourself," he shrugged.

Mumbling furiously under his breath, Iruka planted his foot in Kakashi's back and shoved him off the step. He left the nin where he landed, well aware that the jounin had allowed him that small revenge, and made a beeline for the bags heaped by the side of the road. Throwing discretion to the wind, he drew a kunai and sliced open the nearest sack.

It was full of trash, real honest-to-god everyday trash.

He blinked and slashed open another bag.

More garbage.

Three more slices revealed three more bags of rubbish.

"What is going on here?" he demanded, giving Kakashi the evilest look he could muster.

"We had a lot of trash," he shrugged, pulling Icha Icha Paradise out of his pocket and settling in for a read.

"There's no way… not even the Akimichi clan produces this much garbage in a week," he noted distrustfully, poking through one of the bags.

"Mmm," his lover hummed, seemingly absorbed in his novel.

"Furthermore, we don't even eat Ninja Crunch Flakes. What's this box doing in our garbage?"

He turned a page. "Must be one of the neighbors' bags."

"With our electric bill in it?" Iruka picked out the errant piece of paper and shoved it in Kakashi's face.

"Maa, how'd that get in there?" He scratched his head lazily.

Iruka narrowed his eyes, the pieces all suddenly coming together. "You bastard," he growled, and made a seal with his hands. "KAI!" he shouted.

Kakashi's genjustu melted around him and revealed that the bags were very much filled with his things, not browning apple cores, burnt rice and Ninja Crunch Flake boxes as it had previously seemed.

"I hate you so much," he growled, angrily gathering a pile of old, yet perfectly enjoyable magazines. "Do I need to apologize to Fujima-sama for your idiocy or was she not even here?"

"She was part of the illusion," Kakashi admitted. He sighed and moved to help Iruka gather up the mess. "Couch tonight?" he whined.

"Oh, yeah."

The third time Kakashi attempted to throw his things away, Iruka had a doozy of a cold and wasn't in the best of moods. He was lying limply in bed, attempting to rest and silently cursing the day he'd decided it was a good idea to move in with the copy-nin.

Though his illness offered the ideal opportunity for Kakashi to spend some quality quiet time with Icha Icha Tactics, he had instead decided to give the apartment a thorough cleaning in the name of Helping Iruka Out. While Iruka appreciate the sentiment, it would have been far more helpful if the jounin could've accomplished his objective without flooding him with a barrage of asinine questions in the process.

"Say, Iruka," his lover asked, bending over him and waving some crap-ass thing in front of his bleary eyes for the twentieth time. "Do we need this any more?"

"How'm I 'posed t'know?" he grumbled hoarsely. "I dunno what it is. Now lemme alone."

"Aa." Kakashi left and Iruka relaxed into quiet's gentle embrace.

He wasn't there long.

"Hey, Iruka. What about this?" An insistent hand shook him awake and a brightly colored blur was held up for his inspection.

"Mmph," he groaned. "I don' care! Go away!" He pulled his arm free and hid his head beneath the pillow. Kakashi puttered around the room for a moment and then his steps faded out into the hallway. Iruka lay tense, just knowing that he was going to be back.

Sure enough.

"Ne, Iruka…" Kakashi shortly called from the doorway. "Would you care if I trashed the—"

He shoved himself upright in bed. "Leave me the hell alone!"

"Hai, hai. Call me if you're dying."

Iruka muttered something incomprehensible and pulled the covers over his head. He may not have been the most amiable sick person in the world, but Kakashi was being just plain insufferable and doing it on purpose, to boot. He'd taught six year olds with more consideration. Mentally cursing the jounin, Iruka fell into a fitful doze.

When he awoke hours later, feeling moderately better and less like he wanted to dismember anything that breathed, he rolled out of bed and headed to the living room in pursuit of tissues. He found his lover slouching on the futon, staring across the room at a pile of bulging garbage bags.

"Kakashi!" he gaped. "What are you doing?"

"Oh, you're awake?" he asked, glancing up with a sheepish look. Iruka knew he must have been fairly deep in thought if he'd been able to sneak up on him, sniffling as loudly as he was. That was highly unusual and slightly worrisome, but he could ignore it and did.

"Were you actually throwing my things away behind my back?" he demanded, grabbing a tissue and loudly blowing his nose.

"I was trying to," Kakashi admitted, looking slightly disgusted at the noise. As if he could help it.

"I can't believe you! You're such an asshole!" He threw the kleenex at his lover's head.

Kakashi sat stoically as the tissue bounced off his cheek and onto the floor, seeming to accept it as his just punishment. He sighed and slouched lower on the couch.

"I can't do this, Iruka," he stated morosely. He paused just long enough for Iruka's heart to stop beating, then continued. "I can't throw your stuff away. And I won't try to again, either."

"Wait, what?" he asked intelligently, brain still stuck in WTF mode.

Kakashi shrugged. "They're your things. It's none of my business. If you want to live like this, fine."

"But… you live here, too," Iruka gaped. "And it drives you nuts!"

"I would prefer to store the pots actually in the cabinets," he conceded, "but I'll get used to it. You see value in things that I would just throw away. You don't disregard them because they're broken or weird or unpopular. I like that about you."

They never said mushy crap like that. Iruka was nervous.

"Is this another one of your tricks?" he asked guardedly.

Kakashi looked amused. That probably meant he was serious. "Maa, I don't think so. Did you want it to be?"

"No. So you're really sincere about this?"

"Guess so."

"Shinobi's honor?"

"Shinobi's honor."

"Oh." He blinked and sniffled noisily. "Thank you."

Kakashi nodded, a solemn gesture, and looked meaningfully at the empty seat next to him. "It's cold in here."

"Aa." Smiling happily, Iruka flopped onto the couch beside his lover. He drew his feet up off the floor, tucking his knees against his chest and letting his head rest on Kakashi's shoulder. "Feel like crap," he confessed.

"You look it." Kakashi shifted slightly, making them both more comfortable. "Try not to get snot on my shirt, huh? It's my last clean one."

"You could do laundry on your own, you know," he reminded him, letting his eyes fall closed.

"Hai, hai." He was silent for a moment. "Say, Iruka?"

He managed an appropriate noise of inquiry, half-asleep and ridiculously relaxed. "Mmm?"

"What do you want to do about the roaches?"

He decided he'd probably heard that wrong. "About what?" he mumbled, trying to come a bit more awake.

"The roaches infesting the kitchen. Are you collecting them, too?"

"There are roaches in the kitchen?" he forced open his eyes and gaped at his lover.

"Quite a few, actually." The jounin didn't seem too concerned by that fact, but he wouldn't have brought it up if he didn't have a greater point: he would have just taken care of it himself and told Iruka afterwards.

Christ. That meant he actually wanted him to think, and with a fever no less.

He grunted some unintelligible expression of his discontent before burrowing his face further into Kakashi's shoulder.

"Snot, Iruka," he said, sounding alarmed.

He ignored him for the moment, concentrating on the fact that a swarm of roaches was busy colonizing his residence. It wasn't a particularly pleasant thought and he sighed.

The things he did in the name of harmony.

"Do what you need to to get rid of the roaches," he requested, his voice muffled. "And get rid of that stuff, too." He gestured vaguely in the direction of the bags.

Kakashi stopped fidgeting. "Iruka?"

"I mean it." He lifted his head and smiled fuzzily. "This is your home, too, right?"

His lover nodded. "Aa."

"And all my clutter bothers you."

"Well… not too much." He turned away, staring out the window, and Iruka sighed.

"Look at me," he said firmly, forcing the jounin to meet his eyes. "I can live without the stuff."

Kakashi held his gaze for a moment, weighing his words. "Is this something you'll regret tomorrow?" he eventually asked.

He shrugged. "Maybe, but we both live here and we both need to contribute."

"Teamwork," the jounin agreed and Iruka smiled.

"I'm glad you brought that up," he said with a grin, "because it's your turn to take out the trash."

"Slave driver."

"Snot," he said threateningly. It paid to know people's weaknesses.

"I'm going, I'm going." Kakashi hauled himself off the couch and slouched over towards the bags. Hefting up the nearest six, he plodded off towards the door, silver hair waving ridiculously with each step. Iruka smiled happily as he watched him go. Things were going to be okay.

Shivering a little, he decided to head to the kitchen to make some tea. He lowered his feet to the floor and… and the floor seemed rather colder than usual.

It only took a second to realize: his parents' rug was gone.

Iruka sprinted to the door.

"KAKASHI! WAIT!"

-the end-