It was always hard to argue with Peggy when she was coming at you with calm logic. That was usually when she was at her sharpest, and even if Steve didn't always like what she had to say, he typically had a hard time disagreeing outright.
This was no exception.
He huffed a quiet sigh, then realized she could probably hear it over the phone. "I've given you a hell of a time over the years, haven't I?" he asked, a quirk to his mouth that was almost a smile, one that bordered on rueful.
"I won't ask that of you," Steve continued. "I'm not asking that of you, all right? I only wanted you to be sure."
Because if her mind was made up, there was no changing it. And he could dig in his heels, halt this thing they had going before it even got started, but it felt like that might ruin them, and he was just selfish enough that he wasn't willing to do that. He didn't want to lose her, and as far as the danger they were in, he'd die before he let anything happen to her. So maybe that would have to be enough. Wasn't he the one, after all, who kept railing at Clint about not letting Stane keep them from living their lives?
Another pause, and then he added, "Probably wouldn't hurt to be a little more discreet next time we go out. Maybe you could come here? I could make you dinner - it won't be anything fancy, but my Ma left me her recipe for cottage pie, and I'm not too bad at it, I don't think."