insurgents | OPEN POST.

Mr. Sunders likes to talk, apparently. A lot. Which, for the most part, Ruth doesn't mind. She keeps quiet for most of the tour anyway, glad to finally be introduced to Betty. Not because she's a girl, as Mr. Saunders so helpfully implies, but just because it's someone else, someone who hopefully has something a little more interesting to talk about. (No offense to the man.)

She opens her mouth to talk, ends up closing it again. It looks like she won't be able to say much of anything until he leaves, so she waits, an eyebrow raised just so as she glances sideways at him, a look that's nearly an eyeroll except not quite. It's only when Betty efficiently cuts him off that she finally gets to speak up, offering a small smile as she nods.

"Nuclear physics. And you can call me Ruth." She hesitates, then reaches a hand out for a shake. Mr. Saunders nods, apparently pleased with his work, and decides to leave the two of them to their own devices. And their 'girl talk', he probably thinks. Christ. "Thank you, by the way. Betty, as in...?"

Just in case she's not a fan of that diminutive, and Ruth doesn't want to step on any toes.

"As in Elizabeth. Elizabeth Ross." Betty very deliberately doesn't make any kind of face, "But Betty is good. I'm sorry about..." Him. Sharing the bench. Possibly other things. "You really just have to put your foot down before he'll hear you, but it's easier each time."

She opens her mouth to continue, and then just stops.

Ruth Banner is... young. She'd heard stories, of course she'd heard stories about the new girl genius, how she was probably completing Ph.Ds in biochemistry, engineering, physics (okay, so nuclear physics takes the pool), and just about every other up-and-coming science field under the massive nuclear fusion reactor that was the Sun. Harvard had its share of wunderkind, and Betty had always assumed that at some point she would meet one. Even getting assigned the same bench wasn't that strange, considering the project.

But she hadn't expected her to be so young. Betty's young. They're probably the same age. It makes her tongue a little clumsy and she swallows, smiles around it. Get it together, Ross, she's a peer. Say something smooth. Give her that tour. "Do you want to check out my kidney membranes?" Oh good.

"Not these. These are probably a little fried now." Just like me.

"Duly noted," she nods, shrugging a little and shaking her head at the rest. "It's alright. He wasn't that bad."

He did show her some relevant areas and helped her get to know the place, and besides, Ruth never really talks much, especially with people she doesn't know. She listens more often than not. It's still nice to have a change, Sunders was alright but a little long-winded (probably a little too excited), and Betty's... well, a colleague, at the very least. They'll have more in common.

Her eyebrows arch at the question, amused at the way the offer's put. Smile stretches to a grin, and she lets out a sound somewhere between a chuckle and a snort. "Sure. That sounds interesting. I'm sorry, I— did we ruin your samples?"

"It's okay, it was just the base set. I have a lot of them." She directs Ruth towards gloves and other items - this really is a very small lab tour.

The kidney membranes themselves are delicate, almost transparent when they're applied to their supports. It's really the model kidney that's interesting, more like a small laboratory reactor than a solid organ. There's clear tubing where (probably synthetic) blood can be directed through different paths to pass through specific samples or shunted to the the analysis instruments on either side. There's a hand-drawn diagram pinned above it, but Ruth will be able to follow easily enough without it.

Betty holds out a membrane in a sealed glass plate for Ruth to take. She feels terribly shy about it, like showing someone a first draft of poetry. "You're either going to love or hate this one. She has the best success rate for picking out ion-damaged leukocytes so far, but she needs an atomic-level kick to really be effective." At least this sort of thing, she can talk about. "I think you'll be on that with me. Along with a bunch of other stuff."

Ruth helps herself to the gloves, already getting acquainted with the small area. Glancing over all the work Betty's been doing, she accepts the sample handed to her, a first cursory glance quickly interrupted as she raises an eyebrow curiously.

"She?" Interesting. Possibly telling. Mostly she finds it amusing, though. She focuses on the explanation instead, listening even as she takes a closer look at the sample, then weighs in with her own opinions and initial points of view on the project. It'll need more work, she needs more details, but they both seem more than happy to forego a more proper lab tour and just bury themselves neck-deep in work. Ruth doesn't mind, not in the least— this is as entertained as she's been since she got here, and the company is... well, she doesn't often use the word perfect, but it's very apt right now. They've just met but they just seem to click, and that's nice. A strange kind of nice, when she has a hard time being around people at all, let alone work with them. But she's not about to complain.

Ruth is incredible. When they're troubleshooting or project planning, she's cutting and methodical where Betty is soft variables and conditionals. But when they're brainstorming, her ideas blossom wildly from the smallest germ; a stray detail Betty mentions offhandedly becomes the crux of an entirely new system of performance assessment, conceptualized over late night milkshakes. They move from kidneys to bone marrow to endocrine and limbic systems, plan to try every restaurant in Cambridge and only get to three, and at first it's all Betty can do to keep up with the rush that's working beside her new partner, and then then it's the rush of just seeing her at all.

When they're not talking about research, Ruth is quiet, even shy, but as Betty teases out the shape of her sense of humour, learns to read her like a friend and not a puzzle, gets her to share a little of who she is. And sometimes, between the technical discussions and practical abstractions, she shares a little about herself too.

About half a year after they first met, on what might be their fortieth date or their first, Betty kisses Ruth in the middle of Riverbend Park along the Charles River.

Hours turn into days turn into weeks and months, and Ruth doesn't really know how time goes by so fast, while at the same time she feels like she's met Betty for a lifetime. They work together a lot, and that in itself is a novelty to Ruth, but they've also become friends and gotten to know each other in ways that Ruth doesn't remember ever knowing anyone, or allowed anyone else to know her in return.

She would say it's nice, but it's also a little more complicated than that. But it's nothing she can't handle. She's all too familiar with biochemistry to know the chemicals her body's flooding itself with when she's around Betty, and from a completely rational point of view she understands where the butterflies in her stomach come from. She also knows better than to pay that any mind, because she can't remember ever having friends in her life and she's not about to ruin the single friendship she's managed in her whole life over some silly crush she can completely and absolutely ignore.

Or she thought she could, anyway. But that was when this whole thing was a one-sided infatuation, when she was the one being a creep and stealing glances at Betty, only to look away in the most obvious of ways when she'd look up and smile at her. But now Betty's standing very close and Ruth can't look away, and she's not even sure what's happening or which steps did they take to get them to this particular point, but she's feeling soft lips against hers and she's not entirely sure of what to do about that.

So she does nothing at all. She just stands there, frozen and rooted to the spot, eyes wide when Betty finally pulls away. If she's expecting something coherent to come out of Ruth, she'll have to wait a while.

And she waits. Ruth's lips don't move, and her hands don't move, so Betty pulls back gingerly and just looks down at her for a while, expression peaceful, neutral, reflecting nothing back. She looks at the tension in Ruth is carrying in her frozen shoulders, and the slight tremble of her lower lip. At her wide eyes and dark pupils, the new paleness high in her cheeks where someone else might have blushed. And after she's looked, she tilts her head, still unsmiling, and withdraws the hand she had cupping Ruth's jaw. Brings it awkwardly back to her side. Doesn't pull further away but doesn't touch her at all.

Very gently, "Did I misread this?" She doesn't think so. She's always had a talent for reading attraction in people, in reading intent in general in other people. But Ruth... there's a lot that's very private in Ruth. Even if she's right, she might not be right. "I know you're not- Do you want some time to think about it?"

About kissing, dating, the thing that's been building between them. They'd had weeks and weeks of thinking; maybe it was only her. And especially now, Ruth looks so young.

Ruth is stunned for longer than she'd have liked. She doesn't immediately process it when Betty pulls away, though her eyes eventually fall to the hand that leaves her jaw, gaze moving back up to Betty's face when she speaks up. There's a sharp little inhale there, when her brain suddenly remembers that she needs to breathe, and she blinks, shakes her head in an instinctive response to Betty's questions.

"No No, I... you didn't misread. I just," she pauses and clears her throat a little, her lips stretching into a smile even as she feels her stomach doing about ten backflips, her heart sitting at the back of her throat. "I didn't know. I thought— thought it was just me?"

Betty's face, if anything, grows only more blank before she seems to remember herself and smiles. It's a warm and reassuring smile, but it's also clearly false; she's forgotten those didn't work on Ruth. Haven't in a while, or possibly ever. Excruciatingly cautious, "Which part did you think was just you?"

In trying not to let her concerns or feelings influence her - friend? girlfriend? lab partner?? - most of Betty's physical cues shut down. She's always removed herself in this way. She thought they'd talked about this! Sure, in the abstract, the hypothetical, about people who were very much not themselves, but it was only nominally in the abstract and the hypothetical and the, the not themselves. Right?

Did you not know about the lesbians, because, gorgeous, I'm pretty damn sure...

They don't, but Ruth says nothing to the smile. Hers, on the other hand, is very much genuine, if slightly hesitant and definitely timid, the shock from before bleeding from her expression to be replaced by a faint fluster that colors her cheeks.

"This, the... feelings, just feelings. I didn't know... I mean, I've liked you for months now, I didn't think you... did, too. Liked me, I mean." Her smile turns a little apologetic, eyebrows lifting slightly as she tries to get Betty to look at her, reaches a hand out tentatively to hold one of hers. Hopes that's enough to drive away the trace of worry and apathy from her features and stance. "It's not a bad thing. It just means I'm completely clueless."

"You didn't think I liked you." Like testing some new theory with some degree of abject wonder. The film over Betty's emotions flickers, then dissolves, leaving her fond and familiar and incredulous. Mostly incredulous. "You thought the feelings were just you."

Soooo... she's not going to actually put that past Ruth who is as alien as she is brilliant and also definitely completely clueless. Actually but a whole lot of things are making a little more sense now. But, "I flipped my testing schedule around so our breaks would sync up. I'm trying to learn differential geometry for you. Half our classmates think I live with you. We bought a Pentium brand microprocessor for the lab together - that's like having a child, Ruth."

Deep breath, because, not the point. Tremulous smile, real this time. "I like you. I really like you. I've probably liked you even longer than you've liked me and I'll try harder to show it, so please say you'll be my girlfriend?"

Eyebrows arch, and Ruth lifts her shoulders in an apologetic yet resigned way. She's always been more than a little clueless when it comes to certain kinds of interactions, something that Betty likely has noticed often enough by now. She's never really had any friends, much less so romantic relationships, so she's a little blind to certain signs or cues that may just be obvious to people who've always hand normal and healthy social lives.

"I thought that was just because... I don't know, we were friends. And you liked working with me." She definitely never thought it was because Betty had any kind of interest in her beyond that, and she can't even begin to imagine what she could possibly see in Ruth. Betty, who is not only bright, but sweet, friendly, sociable, funny —not to mention ridiculously beautiful— is so out of her league that Ruth feels like she can't even see her properly from where she stands.

Or she thought so, at least. Right now her whole view of this relationship is getting thrown for a loop, so she's trying to wrap her head around that. But she does know the answer to that question, even if it takes her a moment to nod, smile widening as she steps a little closer. "Yes. Yes, I'll be your girlfriend." A pause, then she adds playfully, "But I maintain that I liked you first."

Ruth isn't... wrong. It was also those things. Ruth is so smart and they work so well together, that even if their personal chemistry wasn't what it was Betty might have found all that effort worth it. And she's Betty's best friend. Not her only friend - Betty makes friends like it's a matter of survival - but her best one, a real one. No one really knows her the way Ruth does, and no one ever has.

Except where Ruth missed this one major thing. Differential geometry, Ruth! Because you made a horrible mathematical disaster sound beautiful. There had been moments of weakness when Betty had doubted. Months of dating, and they'd never kissed. Was she too subtle? Was Ruth one of those girls who didn't like kissing? If Betty had had girl-friends, if she had had anyone else in her life like Ruth, she would have moaned about it over drinks or food or at 1am when reason melted into misery like on a sitcom. And someone might have pointed out that this was Ruth Banner, and maybe words would be a good starting point. Not hypothetical words. Real ones. And "kiss her because you've run out of willpower" would not have been the plan.

"You're wrong, but you can have it." And Betty takes the liberty of wrapping her arms around her actual and official girlfriend who might be okay with kissing after all and squeezing her in sheer relief and happiness. "You said yes!" In case anyone wanted a reminder that that happened.

Well, at least like this Betty now is fully aware of just how clueless Ruth can be. To be fair, there was never any official talk so it never even crossed her mind to assume that what they were doing —spending time together, going out for meals and movies and long strolls through the park— was dating. But a good part of it was just her nearly complete lack of attention and awareness of social cues.

Right now she feels a little silly, a little guilty too, but mostly she feels like she's wasted so long pining for Betty when after all there was no pining necessary to begin with. It was mutual all along, and God, Betty even thought they were dating? Probably. Ruth doesn't even dare to ask, for fear she'll just want to shove her head into a hole for being completely blind.

"Shut up. I'm a genius, i'm never wrong." Said with an arched brow and pursed lips, head tipping as if that makes her look any taller than she is. (It doesn't.) A soft chuckle breaks free when Betty holds her, her own arms wrapping around her middle and pulling her closer, chin tucked over her shoulder. "I did! Of course I did. Like I'd say no to that?"

She pulls away just enough that she can look at Betty's face again, hands still on her sides. Her smile turns a little more apologetic. "Sorry it took me so long."

Well sure, but Betty could have brought it up with actual words before this point too. And she didn't, and then she still didn't. It's a first for her - people read her as interested when she isn't, and she's never had a case in reverse. For someone she had a violent crush on who almost certainly liked her back, it should have been written like lights in the sky. It felt like the most obvious thing every time they were together, even when it was also the most comfortable thing. Who, given half a chance, wouldn't fall madly in love with Ruth? Brilliant and clueless Ruth. She's so cute. She's so cute, and Betty could die.

"Hey- ," we still have the rest of our lives - but that's a little much, isn't it? A little fast and a little much. Betty knows about oxytocin too. About neurotransmitters flooding the brain and hormones flooding the blood, about the chemical cocktail of happiness. That's what she's really thinking about: happiness, and whether she can spin with Ruth in her arms fast enough for them to float off the ground. She feels like dancing, so she does, swaying them both artlessly to the pulse of delight fluttering inside her rib cage, under streetlamps on an empty path in the middle of a beautiful beginning.

Again, more softly, "Hey. I'd wait twice this long for you. Ten times as long. But I'm glad I didn't have to." Maybe the second kiss is less sudden than the first. Maybe. At least both parties are forewarned.

Overall, this just could've been handled a lot better on both ends. But it doesn't really matter that Betty could've mentioned it before, it doesn't matter that Ruth could've paid more attention to the signs, and read them for what they were. What matters is that they got there now, and it's better than never getting there at all.

The thought of years going by and only finding out that she could've had this when Betty's already moved on and is with someone else, happy, having built a life with that person... it's almost too much to bear.

Which is why the next words surprise her. Maybe in a good way, a small part not so much. Would she have waited that long, really? She's probably just exaggerating, Ruth figures. Not that that matters, either. Ruth could stand to not ruin things before they even start anyway, and this time, when Betty leans in to kiss her, she returns it gladly, a hand moving up to cup Betty's face, letting out a chuckle when their noses bump together a little, and she tips her head just enough to fix that.

"Ten times might've been a little much, no?" She's a little breathless when she breaks the kiss, for no reason other than sheer excitement and happiness, her words a warm hum against Betty's lips. Her eyes flicker up for a moment, then she adds with a hint of apprehension. "I... have a confession to make."

Betty would absolutely not have waited that long. She would have pushed the issue at least by the time graduation rolled around and sought a solid rejection so she could move on. There's no doubt in her mind that without one, she would be gone over Ruth indefinitely.

They warn you about the potency of young love, but in the throes of it, there's really nothing you can do. She doesn't feel bad at all about committing and entire future if it means Ruth is kissing her back now, will probably still kiss her back tomorrow.

"Is this about world domination? Because I already... oh. Oh, you're serious." She reins herself in a little, slows, stops. "Go ahead, I'm listening."

Good thing at least one of them is a more proactive kind of person, and a lot less clueless too, because if it were up to Ruth, then chances are graduation would've come and gone and nothing would have ever happened. Not that Ruth wouldn't still value their friendship just as dearly, but it would be a lie if she said she wouldn't be miserable seeing Betty with someone else.

"Idiot," she chuckles, swatting a hand lightly at Betty's arm. The joke at least gets her to relax a little, even if she feels very self-conscious about what she has to say. Or thinks she has to say— she doesn't know. She has no idea what kind of things are important to mention in a relationship, but one way or the other, she still wants Betty to know, even if she almost feels like hiding her face somewhere as she says it.

"That was my first kiss. Actually. I mean, not this one, that one— the first one. When you kissed me first."

Wow. Smooth.

"Oh no!" Oh no, are you kidding me? Betty cups Ruth's jaw with both hands so she can't look down or away, and it's hard to tell if she's genuinely alarmed or just fussing. "I don't think that one counts. I didn't even- I mean just couldn't help- And then I sort of just put my face on yours... Even the second-"

Yeah don't even worry about it, Ruth.

"I think you have to let me do it over again," she concludes and drops her hands back to Ruth's waist. "You don't have the reference points yet, but I think I can do much better first kiss next time."

Ruth is a little embarrassed at first, when she takes that first remark as shock and alarm. Not that she blames Betty for it, really, she knows it's probably a weird thing, a woman in her twenties saying she never even kissed someone, let alone... well, done anything else, ever. But then Betty goes on talking, and her embarrassment turns into a snort and a laugh, her head tipping back a little.

"No way," she shakes her head, her hands both resting on Betty's arms, sliding up to her shoulders. "That was my first kiss, you can't take that away from me. And this one was my second. And the next one will be my third." And she will love each and every one of them, in different ways, sometimes for different reasons that deep down, are all the same.

"Fine, but you're going to need to work with me to bring up the curve. I'm going to try something, hang on."

No, actually hang on.

There's your warning, because Betty is totally going to try and pick Ruth up now, hands probably on her butt (!), lifting her just high enough to be clear of the path. And it's fine, it's totally manageable and stable and fine, literally sweeping her girl off her feet, you got this Ross, except now she's giggling too hard to kiss her at this new angle, head tilted back, and Ruth's face is haloed by the orange glow of a streetlamp, incandescent.

"We're both brilliant. I'm sure we can work something out."

And then she does as Betty asks, and hangs on. Except she doesn't hang on literally, and when Betty lifts her up from the ground she lets out a loud yelp, hands clinging hard to her shoulders, eyes widening almost comically for a moment there. The surprise dissolves into laughter and her head bends forward a little, her nose bumping against Betty's a little roughly in the process.

"What's the plan here, exactly? I'm pretty sure this doesn't work like in the movies, you know? And by the way, please don't try to spin me around next."

She's not hearing a wealth of confidence, there, Ruth. "That was the plan," she admits, "but I'm starting to see why that might not work out so well. Trust a physicist to catch the problem with Hollywood magic."

But it's honestly not too hard to hold her up like this - Betty could probably keep it up for a little while, especially if Ruth hooks her legs around her waist and holds on a little harder. It's just more awkward than she expected.

"It's an experiment. Try kissing me."

Only because Betty sucks at these kinds of sweeping romantic gestures, or at least when it comes to taking into account that real life isn't like in the movies. Bodies can't be lifted up all that easily, there's gravity and force and mass and— you know what, she really doesn't care. Screw science, Betty's holding her in her arms and she couldn't care any less about what it should be like.

This is perfect.

She leans in and tips her head to the side, still smiling even as she presses her lips to Betty's. One hand carefully moves so that her arm wraps around her shoulders, then the other, trying to help as much as she can in keeping her weight steady, even if Betty's the one doing most of the heavy lifting right now. Not that Ruth is particularly heavy, but still. She's mostly focused on the kissing.

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