Love didn't fix everything. It didn't heal all wounds magically. But it did help. It helped so much. It helped him to focus on what was good, it kept him from going to those darker places that had him reeling in guilt and anguish and shame. Ever since they'd started growing closer, Bucky began to really like himself again. Bucky had been feeling so much lighter, so much more like the man that had been thought to have died during World War II, proving to himself that he wasn't as lost as he'd thought. Clint Barton brought out the absolute best in him.
The dog tag thing. It was a big deal to Bucky. A huge deal, really, but he didn't want to put any weird pressure or vibes or stress on Clint or their relationship so he wasn't making it out to be that way just yet. It was really up to Clint how he took it. Just a trinket, or something far more meaningful. However he responded, Bucky would go along with it because he only wanted things to occur naturally between the two of them. That's how it'd been so far up to this point and it was the best thing ever. But Clint did seem to understand the significance.
A smile spread across Bucky's lips -- had it ever even gone away from the moment he'd entered the house? no? -- as he read the motions Clint had signed with his hands. Now that Bucky had both of his hands back it made communicating that way a lot easier. I love you, he signed. I'm yours. His life was engraved in those tags, and he was giving them to Clint.