Standard disclaimers apply.
Fall for S/X drabble tree.
Spike had considered a long list of punishments that he might face in his eventual afterlife - which, for the record, he had meant to be a far longer eventuality than seemed to have come with tacky necklaces and burning sunlight. The consideration had only begun after the soul, as he was fairly sure that happily soulless demons who died doing soulless demon things either dispersed, recycled or went to to a demon heaven where kicking ass and causing chaos was rewarded with eternal blowjobs from pretty warm humans.
But he had died with a human soul in charge, so he suspected eternal blowjobs weren't on the menu unless it was him giving them to fungus demons.
Of the possible hells he might be sent to, he hadn't considered one where Harris, stress lines and eyepatch in place, was tying him firmly to that damn orange chair. "What the... I know I joked about you being the roommate from Hell, but seriously?"
"What makes you think this is Hell?"
He shrugged as well as he was able. "Wasn't exactly expecting wings and a loaner harp after what I've done, yeah?"
He hadn't seen that smile since the vineyard and admitted (to himself) that he'd missed it. "Maybe I got killed by an ubervamp and this is MY eternal reward."
"Your Heaven is back in this stinking pit? Pull the other one, mate."
"Back when I had you at my mercy but with the nerve to do something about it other than jerk off in the shower and hope I didn't mumble anything that would let you know I wasn't thinking of Anya?" For all the trappings of force, Harris waited until he'd received an enthusiastic return of his kiss and a welcoming smirk before he slid to his knees and started working at Spike's belt with his teeth. The vampire heard something suspiciously like, "Sounds like Heaven to me," mumbled into the denim.
He was seriously pissed when he got yanked back into Angel's office, but gaurdedly pleased when he heard the whelp had survived Sunnydale afterall.