Sometimes, Peggy couldn't help but wonder if that blush extended all the way down the way it heated Steve all the way up to the tips of her ears. It wasn't a very ladylike thought, no, and she'd probably never admit it to anyone but Steve, but there it was nonetheless, floating to the forefront of her mind as he seemed to agree to her suggestion.
It was agreement, wasn't it? Though he had a point about dinner, and Peggy knew they were better off eating while it was hot. "I'd hate to make you go through the effort of cooking it, and then have to reheat it for me as well," she demurred, amusement flickering across her face. "We probably ought to finish." He'd appreciate that, wouldn't he? Not wasting a meal, or fixing it only to wrap it all up and shove it into the refrigerator. Peggy could wait. She'd patience aplenty.
Even with the way he was nearly touching her lips, thumb a careful pressure close enough that she could dip her chin that fraction enough to kiss it lightly. "Unless... your bruises are in need of attention sooner rather than later?" He'd said nothing hurt, but Peggy had a sliver of doubt on that. Steve so rarely complained about anything, and it was almost cheating to try to coerce him into it... especially since abandoning dinner for more intimate activities elsewhere wouldn't do a thing for him even if he were in pain.