i’ll go your way too

He’s a vet, Buck would bet his last dollar. The combat boots tucked inconspicuously under the jeans are one thing, but it’s the faded green jacket that says it all - Diaz barely visible where it’s stamped over his chest, the way his shoulders sit tense and set back underneath it. Buck looks more military than Diaz does - he’s still keeping it high and tight, clean shaven, his arms are starting to finally fill in after all that PT. Diaz, by contrast, has a few days’ growth on him at least, dark shadows scrubbing across his cheeks, darker over his lips even, and a few long tendrils of wet hair still plastered to his forehead.

“Hey,” Buck says, “what can I do you for?”

“I need a room,” Diaz answers. “Can you do day to day?”

Buck looks outside at the long line of absolutely goddamn nothing and no one for miles, except Mr. Han in the Spade Suite, which he wouldn’t even be sure about himself if it weren’t for his towel hanging on the door knob every other morning at 10 am like clockwork. “Yeah, man, I think I can swing that.”

[Or Buck has a dead end job at a highway motel and a mysterious stranger arrives at night.]