TOUCHDOWN! JFK, that is! :) And thanks so much for your interest in this bit of fluff! Hope you enjoy! Consider it my thank you for your lovely feedback. And if I'm totally honest, I look forward to some fluff as well! :)

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The flight attendant and the pilot were telling the truth. In five minutes or so, the plane finally lands at JFK. Of course, it takes another 15 minutes or so for the passengers to actually disembark.

"Would you mind, dear?" Harry, standing in the aisle, turns to the voice. A much older woman is standing in her seat behind him, gesturing to the overhead compartment. "My pleasure," Harry says, reaching up to help her. But the man standing next to him reaches past, grabbing his own overstuffed bag first. Wrenching it free from the other luggage in the bin, he soon loses his grip. It tumbles and hits Harry right in the head. He sways a bit from the blow.

"Oh no!" The woman says, her eyes round with shock.

"Harry!" Ruth exclaims, still standing in front of her window seat. She tries to reach Harry, but is unable to do more than that in such cramped quarters. She settles for glaring at the man who barely glances at Harry still rubbing his head. "What kind of person are you?" The older woman asks the man who's now hefting his luggage past them and down the aisle. The man turns back, staring at Harry who waits for an answer. It's not long coming. The man apologises profoundly, NY style: he raises his middle finger. Then turning back, he heads down the aisle.

Ruth almost manages to get past Harry, but he blocks her with his stocky body. "It's fine. Really." Taking note of the lasers shooting out of her ice-blue eyes now targeting the back of the man's head, Harry almost feels sorry for the poor devil.

"It's my fault," the woman says, her hand on her chest.

"Of course it isn't." Harry says, turning back to her. He smiles and desperately tries not to rub his head. "I'm perfectly fine." He knocks his head and immediately regrets doing so. Still, he smiles, his very best HarrySmile. "Hard head," he says. " At least according to my mother."

"Well, you tell your mother that she's raised a lovely son." Then she adds, "You must think all Americans are so rude. And I had such a lovely time in your country, too."

"Not at all." Harry says, smiling down at her. "And I'm glad you enjoyed your stay." Finally, he retrieves her luggage for her, placing in on the floor. She beams at him. Then she looks over to Ruth who's still putting a curse on the man now long gone.

"What a lovely husband you have, dear. He's a keeper!"

Ruth turns her attention to the older woman. She glances over at Harry, then casts her eyes down, but not before he sees the sparkle in them and a hint of her dimples. He forgets about his head, at least for the moment.

Finally, the plane thins out and Ruth and Harry, saying goodbye to their elderly companion, head for the baggage area, looking for their ride. After 15 minutes, however, it's clear that somehow, someone messed up. There is no one holding a hastily scrawled sign in the terminal bearing the name 'Mr. & Mrs. Cousins.'

Sighing, Harry flips his mobile open, but Ruth stops him with a wave of her hand. "You know, we can take the AirTrain. After all, when in in Rome..."

She stops at the look on his face, "A train?" He shakes his head then regrets doing so. He really must remember to stop doing that, he tells himself. "I'm sure our ride will soon be here," he goes on, trying his best not to wince. "We just need to be patient."

"This is NY, Harry. There's no such thing as patient."

He snaps his mobile shut. "Fine. But let's wait just 5 more minutes, shall we? And then we can take a cab." He looks over at her. She nods. But after another 5 minutes or so, it is clear that they will have to find their own way into the city. They head outside of the terminal and step into the night. And the sleet. And the noise. And the smell. "Thought we had cold weather, " he says, turning his collar up. He looks past the crowd for a cab. Spotting one almost immediately, he raises his hand and just as quickly, it pulls up to the curb. Harry, rolling their luggage along, gestures for Ruth to get in. As she reaches for the door handle, a man brushes past her, almost knocking her down. Then he gets in, slams the door and the cabbie takes off.

"Good God, " Harry says, going over to her. "You all right, Ruth?"

"Of course," she says, adjusting her coat a bit. Then her mouth drops open as Harry steps a bit more into the street and also profoundly apologises, NY style, to the departing cab and passenger.

"Harry!" Reaching over, she yanks his arm down.

He shrugs. " When in Rome ..."

Her smile is slow in coming but when it does, it lights up her entire face. She nods. Then stepping out from the curb a bit, she flags the next cabbie. Like the previous one, it pulls up alongside the curb. Another person appears out of nowhere. Before Harry can react, she pushes in front of the young man. "Don't even think about it, buddy," she says. The young man takes a look at her and hesitates. And when he does, she all but shoves Harry into the back, luggage and all, getting in behind him. The door slams. "The Plaza," she says. "And step on it." The cabbie checks her out in his rear view mirror. "You got it." He says and steps on the gas.

Harry stares at his companion. She turns to him, then says softly, "When in..."

"Rome.." he finishes. Their eyes meet. And there is no way that the sparking lights of the city can compete with the smiles on their faces.