Dog Tags
Peter first noticed right before a mission. Bucky takes off the necklace from under his shirt, then Steve follows. They take a moment, one hand holding the dog tags, the other holding onto each other.
Steve presses the tag to his lips, then he puts it over Bucky’s head and tucks it into his shirt. Bucky slips the tags over Steve’s head, then traces the embossed letters with his fingers lightly before tucking it into Steve’s uniform.
Peter never really got a close look at their dog tags. Once, he saw Steve’s. It had his full name, his social security number, his blood type, and a C. Peter assumed that meant Catholic. There were two tags on each chain. They were worn; clearly they had seen some shit. And before every mission, Bucky and Steve swapped.
It all happened in slow motion, really. Steve was standing on the ground, running point and fighting anything that got too close to the base they were tasked with guarding. Then, a blast knocked him across the field. A pained look shot across Bucky’s face as he rushed to guard him.
Tony’s jetted down to Bucky’s side and spoke through the comm, “You and Peter take Cap back to the medbay. We can handle it here.”
Bucky didn’t hesitate and neither did Peter. Back into the quinjet, back to the tower, back to the medbay.
The doctors shouted out a lot of things that Bucky and Peter couldn’t quite understand. After putting him on the stretcher, Peter and Bucky were left alone to wait.
An hour passed. Then two. The Avengers returned to no news. Three hours.
Peter was leaning against Bucky’s chest with Bucky’s right arm wrapped around him. Occasionally, Bucky would bring a hand up and play with his hair. Peter finally dared to speak, “Is he going to be okay?”
Bucky gave a tired sigh and Peter cringed at his childish question, “Of course, pal. After all, he’s got my tags on him.”
Peter sat up a bit to look at Bucky, “What do you mean?”
Bucky pulled Steve’s tags out of his shirt and showed them to Peter, “They always said if you trade your dog tags with your girl, you couldn’t die. So Steve and I always traded dog tags before we went on a mission.” He ran his finger over the embossed text, “He’s still got my dog tags. Which means he’s going to be just fine.”
Peter cuddled back up to Bucky and let his tired eyelids guide him into a dreamless sleep.
Peter woke to Bucky shifting, “Hey, kid, wake up. We can go in and see Steve.” That woke Peter up and he stood to follow Bucky and the doctor to Steve’s room.
Peter took a chair at the foot of Steve’s bed. Bucky and the doctor had a short but seemingly pleasant chat before Bucky took a seat at Steve’s side. He smiled softly, taking Steve’s bruised hand, “Doc says they were able to repair all the damage. He should wake up in an hour or so.”
Peter smiled brightly, “I guess your dog tags worked!”
Bucky was watching Peter intently and Peter could see the gears turning, “Yeah, I guess so.”
Steve sighed happily, “Feels good to get back in the field!”
Bucky rolled his eyes, “Don’t do anything stupid.”
Steve puffed out his chest, “Stupid is my middle name.”
Like clockwork, Steve and Bucky went through their routine of exchanging their tags, then they turned to Peter, “I’ve got something for you.” Bucky said, pulling a chain out of his pocket and putting it in Peter’s hand.
One tag proudly read:
James B Barnes
32557038 T42 43 A
P
The other read:
Steven G Rogers
98765432 T42 O
C
Peter’s eyes widened as he looked back up at Bucky and Steve. They smiled at him warmly, “Someone’s gotta look out for you, kid.” Steve said, quirking an eyebrow.
Bucky chuckled and took the tags from Peter’s hands and slipped the chain around his neck, then tucked it inside his suit. The metal was cool against his skin but his heart warmed at the idea of keeping Bucky and Steve close.
“T-Minus 30 seconds.” FRIDAY supplied
Bucky and Steve stood and looked down at Peter, “You ready?” Bucky asked, slinging his gun across his back.
Peter ran his fingers over the tags through his suit and pulled his mask on, “Ready.” He replied fiercely.