**Request for asandefur05 where Peter is in the 1930's with Steve and Bucky. It was so much freaking fun to write this!!! Please let me know if it was what you were looking for. Sorry for the delay, I wanted it to be accurate and I had so much going on, lol. Seriously, guys, I wanted this to be realistic. Band-aids? Came out in 1920. Conscription cards? All you needed was a name, an age, and a medical exam. I went through the nation archives to find an actual conscription card from the time. Enjoy!**

Steve and James had been friends since before they could remember. Since before they could walk. Since before they went to school and Steve got picked on and James had to step in. They were as close as two boys could be and through thick and thin, they were there for one another.

And then, when Steve had just turned 5 and James had decided to start going by 'Bucky', Peter was born in the house across from Steve's. He was a frail thing, even frailer than Steve, and he had big brown eyes. 'Doe eyes' was what they called them. That was Peter's nickname at home - Doe Eyes. Maybe it was the natural urge to protect that Bucky felt, or maybe it was the way Steve had looked down at the baby when he held him for the first time, but from that day on, the three boys were inseparable.

When school started for Peter and the kids picked on him, pushing him down and calling him 'doe eyes' with malice, Bucky and Steve were there to walk him home and put band-aids on his knees and make him laugh with milk bottles held over their eyes and dirty jokes Bucky heard while working at the malt shop down on Main.

It was only natural. Steve and Bucky were inseparable and they were always watching over Peter. Always.

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"Bucky," Peter drawled, his little lisp coming through. He was only 10, which wasn't actually too young, but it felt young to Steve and Bucky at 15. "Why do you and Steve hang around girls so much?"

Bucky shot a look at Steve as he snapped a marble into the ring and knocked one of Peter's out. It was all a game, they always gave the kid his marbles back.

"We like 'em." Steve said.

"We like 'em a lot." Bucky laughed, wiggling his eyebrows at Peter.

"Ewww," Peter scoffed.

The three shot marbles for a while in silence. Peter got a couple of Steve's out. Bucky was a master, nailing most of Peter's out and a few of Steve's. Steve didn't like the competition, so he missed on purpose.

"Do you like girls more than you like me?" Peter asked, looking up at the two with those big doe eyes.

"Definitely not," Bucky said.

"Girls don't shoot marbles," Steve added.

"And you'll always like me?"

There was a beat, and Peter started to worry he'd pushed his luck. He almost pushed himself off his stomach to scurry away when Steve caught his arm and pulled him back under his arms. Bucky hauled himself on top of Steve, dog piling them.

"O'course, Doe Eyes."

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Bucky dragged his feet coming home that particular night. He didn't want to face the truth behind his front door. He didn't want to tell Steve. He didn't want to see Peter's eyes blow wide and water and-

The door swung open. Bucky was hit with the smell of home cooking, in particular, the smell of his mother's stew.

"I'm home," he called, kicking off his shoes by the door. "Ma! Can we talk?"

"Get Stevie for dinner, James."

Bucky let out a huff. "Ma. I need to talk to you before I go to get Stevie."

The older woman put down her spoon with a huff, putting a hand on her hip. "What is so important, James Barnes? Why are you being so impossible?"

"Ma, I signed up for the army. I leave this week."

There was silence in the kitchen. It was silence, or maybe it wasn't. There was steam. The stew was boiling. There was the sound of an egg timer going off. But all Bucky saw was his mother's sad eyes. Her dropped shoulders. The way her eyes crinkled around her eyes. How much older she was. How much more exhausted she was.

"James-" she started, but her voice faltered and she cut herself off.

"You signed up, Buck?"

Bucky spun around. Steve was leaning in the doorway, his hair sticking up in the back. He'd been sleeping, then. "I- Yeah, I-"

"Damn it, Buck!" Steve slammed a hand against the door frame. Normally, Bucky's mom would have let out a shriek and smack Steve upside the head, but in this moment - in this particular, terrible, awful moment - she let it go.

"People are dying over there," Steve said breathlessly. "They're dying and you're going to go over there."

"That's why I need to go," Bucky said. And that was that.

They had dinner. The boys went to bed. Bucky got up early and went to work while Steve pounded the pavement looking for work. And when everyone came home and sat down to dinner, it was like nothing had happened.

And then Bucky found the card in Steve's coat while cleaning up their room. Just a name, an age, and a medical sign off, but Bucky knew. He knew what it was.

"How the hell did you get this through?" Bucky asked, spit practically flying from his mouth when Steve got home that night. "How did you get the medical tests through? You have weak lungs, Stevie!"

"I lied!"

Bucky threw his hands up, letting out a growl. "I can't believe you."

The two didn't talk that night at dinner. They didn't talk much for the rest of the week, either. Bucky left for boot camp without thinking about Peter watching from his own room down the street, leaning out the window. Peter watched when Steve left a few days after that. He watched and didn't even get a good bye.

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The shelling was loud. It was loud and constant and Bucky hated it. He was a few miles away from the front lines, but he was always thinking about Steve. Always.

"Sargent?" There was an enlisted boy - young and new - at the door. Bucky gave him a wave. "There's a group of men passing through. They need somewhere to crash tonight. Their foxholes were taken."

Bucky followed the boy out to get things sorted. The company's CO was out on business and that left few other soldiers to lead the camp. Bucky surveyed the ranks of soldiers in his camp. There was a familiar mop of blond hair near the back, but business came first. It might not even be him.

"Welcome, men. I hear you got chased out of the holes by a few German hounds. Squeeze in where you can. Dismissed."

The soldiers scattered to find a place in the tents to settle in, but there was one left in camp. A tall, thin, blond man, with blue eyes. Bucky almost ran to him.

"Stevie."

"Buck."

Steve followed Bucky back through the camp and into his own tent. Once they were out of eyesight, they hugged tightly. It was good to be together again. It was good to know that they were safe.

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It was late. Shelling never stopped, even in the middle of the night, but it did get lighter. It got less constant. Bucky was sleeping when the sound of yelling and screaming - yelling and screaming much closer to camp than usual - and bolted into the camp. Steve and the other soldiers were there, too, each one bleary eyed and wearing their pajamas.

There was a bloody soldier in the camp. He was being helped by 2 others. Bucky immediately ran to help them, scooping the kid up and calling for a medic.

"What happened?"

"We don't know, sir. We found him while we were traveling between camps. He was in the bushes, I think he was sniped."

Steve was right next to Bucky, looking down at a familiar mop of brown curls. "Doe Eyes."

Bucky's head snapped over so fast, it almost popped. Steve brushed back blood-matted curls. Peter. It was Peter.

The camp was silent. It was silent, or maybe it wasn't because there was shelling and Peter was there and the medics were beginning to treat him and Steve was pulling Bucky away and into camp and back to his tent and-

"Bucky. Bucky."

Bucky looked up. "He's only 17. He can't be drafted."

"He must have lied."

"And where did he learn that?" Bucky yelled. "Goddamn it, Steve, goddamn it!"

Steve put a hand on Bucky's arm. "Bucky, stop, it wasn't your fault."

"It was," Bucky seethed suddenly. "It was because I am supposed to take care of you two! And I can't even do that!"

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Peter woke up slowly. His head was sore and felt like it was packed with cotton. His chest hurt, too, from the bullet in his side.

"Scared the hell out of me, Doe Eyes," Steve said, startling the boy. Peter jumped a little.

"Stevie?"

"And me." Bucky pushed himself off the post of the tent he was leaning on. Peter looked over, and suddenly, he was staring at his hands, his blanket, his bed - anything but Steve and Bucky.

Steve sat on the edge of the bed. "Peter, why are you here?"

No response.

"How did you get here?"

No response.

"Does your ma know you're here?"

Bucky could see that Steve wasn't getting anywhere, so he stepped in. "You wanna play soldier, fine. I'm your Sargent for now, so tell me, soldier, why and how you are here!"

Peter jumped at the sudden rise in Bucky's voice, but it wasn't in fear or surprise. He was just angry.

"Because you two left! You left me! Without even saying good bye and all I ever wanted to be was- was-" Tears choked the words and both of the older boys were struck by how young Peter was. "I wanted to be like you guys. The good guys. And I couldn't be here with you guys, I couldn't-"

Peter let himself cry - fat tears rolled down his cheeks and pooled under his chin where they fell into the blankets.

"Peter," Steve sighed, but Bucky put a hand on Steve's shoulder.

"It's okay." Bucky put his other hand on Peter's shoulder, his fingertips gentle but firm. "It's okay. We're going to figure this out. We're going to get through this war, together, and when we get home, in one piece, we can rip into Peter then, okay?"

Steve looked over at Bucky, but the man's eyes were fixed on Peter's face. Bucky wiped a tear away with the pad of his thumb.

"You're not mad?" Peter asked.

"I am pissed as hell," Steve said, at the same time Bucky said "No."

Steve looked over at Bucky, but Bucky just pulled Peter in for a hug. "'course not, Doe Eyes."