A/N: Here's a little ficlet turned short one-shot for you guys. Prompt at the end, I hope you enjoy!

His usual table on the upper level of Housing Works, a quaint bookstore cafe, is taken, occupied by a group of teenagers paying more attention to their cell phones than their cold coffee or the lines of bookshelves open to them. Instead, he sits at one of the tables downstairs. It gives him some new scenery and a vantage point of the door he doesn't normally get. It's because of this newfound location he tends to look up each time the bell chimes, and he notices when a woman walks in, a toddler propped on her hip.

She's... well, stunning—long legs adorned in black skinny jeans, with a cream sweater and a beanie to match, covering long, flowing chestnut curls. He can't make out many of her features from his seat, not from this angle, but she's gorgeous too. He can tell. The boy on her hip bounces impatiently, a broad smile on his little face.

He watches on as she brushes shaggy hair away from his forehead and places a kiss to his temple, the motion so natural he has no doubt it's a frequent gesture. The boy's right arm wraps around her shoulders, a small Buzz Lightyear toy gripped in his fingers.

When he makes eye contact with the toddler, he smiles, gives a small wave. The child looks at him questioningly for a few seconds, intense eyes just blinking, then he decides to smile back.

The kid seems to be a little charmer. He's sure his mother must be equally as enchanting.

Trying in earnest to avoid staring creepily at this woman and her son, he looks down at his notebook, at the pen that sits still at his fingertips. The page is nearly empty, filled only with a few jottings and a doodle or two.

The woman orders her drinks and moves out of line, waits off to the side for her name to be called. He takes those few minutes to guess her name.

Emily? Amanda? Olivia? Maybe something more... creative. Modelesque, maybe. Coco? Chanel? Genevieve?

He almost laughs at himself. She may look like a model, but he doubts she's the Coco type.

Kate.

It's the name called when she retrieves her coffee, and he smiles to himself. Somehow, he finds it fitting. A beautiful name for a beautiful woman. Much better than any of his horridly off-mark guesses.

Just as he's about to go back to his non-writing—he's trying, really, but nothing seems to be sparking any form of creativity or inspiration—he watches her collide briefly with a man, causing the toddler to drop his toy. She doesn't seem to notice, too busy exchanging apologies with the guy and making sure coffee hasn't spilled all over, but he sees little arms reaching unsuccessfully towards the ground as she continues moving.

"Momma," he hears, but she doesn't know it's fallen and he's already out of his seat.

Picking up the toy, he jogs after the woman. "Excuse me," he says, catching her just as she's making her way towards the door. "I believe you dropped this."

She eyes the toy in his extended hand and trails her gaze back to him. "Oh, thank you," she breathes, plucking it from his palm. She turns to face her son. "Here you go, baby. Remember you have to hold onto it real tight or you'll lose it, okay?"

"The bump!" the boy says. "Dropped it."

A smile blooms across her face as she chuckles. "I'm sorry," she tells him, handing over Buzz. "And what do you say to this nice man who brought it back?"

"Thank you!" the boy yells excitedly, giving him a toothy smile.

"It's my pleasure, bud," he says, returning the boy's eager smile. "I couldn't let you go without Buzz, now, could I?"

He shakes his head aggressively, light brown hair covering his face now. Small giggles erupt, and his mother laughs, brushes the hair away once again with her forearm and bounces him in place.

She's more beautiful close up, he realizes. Her eyes—there's something about them, so expressive yet guarded, but exquisite all the same. Her little boy shares them, though his seem to be more green than hazel. The hunter green jacket he wears brings them out even more.

"Thank you again..."

"Rick," he supplies, offering a hand before pulling it back. "Right, coffee. Sorry."

Smiling, she shakes her head. "No need." A pause. "Kate."

He doesn't tell her he already knows her name, heard when the barista called it, because that'd be weird. So he nods instead.

"Nice to meet you."

"Gust!" the toddler says, wriggling in his mother's grip as he looks at him. "Hi!"

Rick's confused but grins at the excitement anyway. "Hi," he laughs, then looks to Kate for help.

"August," she tells him, but that doesn't really give much more information. August? It's February. She turns to her son. "Yeah, baby, August." The boy seems pleased with himself, and Kate looks back at Rick. "His name. It's August."

Oh. "It's cute."

"But only when you're in trouble, right, kid?" she teases, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head. He's wholly disinterested, paying more attention now to Buzz. "You're just Auggie, little man."

"Uh huh, not in trouble," the boy parrots, still staring down at his hands and the toy clutched in them.

Rick feels a bit like he's intruding, observing this interaction between mother and son, watching how lovingly she looks at the little boy perched contently on her hip. But it's beautiful, really, and he can't find it in himself to look away.

"He's adorable," he says, earning a proud smile from her.

"Thank you," she says, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. "Well, we should get going." He squashes the ridiculous pang of sadness that bubbles. He doesn't even know her. But he knows he likes her, finds her intriguing. "Maybe we'll—"

"Momma, draw!"

Auggie seems to have lost interest in Buzz for the moment, the toy held in one tiny fist, and is now pointing towards the notebook in Rick's hand. He'd forgotten he was even holding it, if he's being honest.

"That's not yours, baby," she says quietly. "That's Rick's. We can draw when we get home, okay?"

"I wan' draw now," he says, looking up at her with large, blinking eyes. How she says no to that face, he can't even begin to figure out. "Pwease."

Kate sighs. "Sorry."

"Don't be. He's polite, you have to give him that," he smiles. Auggie's pouting in his mother's arms, and Rick speaks before thinking twice. "If you don't have to be anywhere right away, he's more than welcome to draw."

The boy brightens, and Kate's eyes widen. "Oh, no, that's okay. You were working in that notebook, and we should be going."

"I was procrastinating and doodling more than I was working, but—wait, were you were watching me?"

"Of course not." The flame of her cheeks contradicts her statement. "I was taking in my surroundings."

He grins, wider even when she ducks her head, pulling one lip between her teeth. "Okay," he laughs. "If it makes you feel any better, I was taking in my surroundings as well."

Kate hums. "Which would explain how you knew he dropped his toy."

"So it may," he says. "Really, though. I haven't gotten any actual work done and it's been hours—Auggie using my pad to draw for a little bit would not be hindering any progress, I promise."

Pointing to the pen in Rick's hand and then to himself, Auggie bats his eyelashes at his mother. "I can draw now?"

Kate lets her eyes fall closed for a second, chest heaving with a small sigh, and when they open she offers a smile for her son. "If Rick is really sure—" She punctuates her statement with a glance in his direction, eyes making contact with his. "—then we can stay for a little while. Not too long, okay? You need a nap."

That gets a fast head shake, a wriggle as he tries to free himself from her grip. "No nap."

"Yes nap," she says, allowing him to get down but bending to his level. "No nap, no draw. Capisce?"

His little lips frown but he nods. "'Pisce!"

"Okay then." Kate stands, still holding onto Auggie's hand. "Let's follow Rick to the table."

With Auggie trailing beside her, she taps Rick on the shoulder just before they reach the table with the rest of his belongings.

"You really don't have to do this," she whispers. "He'll be fine waiting until we get home to draw."

Rick pulls out the chair in lieu of an immediate response and waits for her to sit down, pulling her son onto her lap. He takes his spot across from them and opens his notebook to a blank page before sliding it over, followed by the pen.

"I know," he promises, watching as Auggie grabs at the pen and hastily begins his drawing. It's a lot of squiggles, some straight lines and circles peppering the page, and the boy's tongue peeks out as he concentrates. "But I want to."

He doesn't know if the delicate smile on her face is for her son or for him, but he's delighted to see it either way.

Prompt: "I believe you dropped this"