Dove
"Esto no tiene solución. Estamos desperdiciando huevos," I groaned as Bucky cleaned off the last bit of eggshell from the kitchen counter. My cheeks were burning with embarrassment and I had to keep on blinking away my unshed tears because of the frustration. (This is hopeless. We're wasting eggs.)
"No empieces con eso. Ya lo solucionaremos," he smiled as he wiped his hands with a small kitchen towel then pressed a kiss to my cheek. (Don't start that. We're going to figure it out.)
I wiped my eyes and sniffed, "Déjame en paz. Soy estudiante de arte, después de todo. De todas formas, sabemos que nos morimos de hambre." (Just leave me be. I'm an art student after all. We're known to be starving anyway.)
