We screamed when the tickets came in the mail.

We cried when we got the news.

She told us to sell the ticket and we did. “Use the money for comics,” she said.

She helped us with our costumes the morning of. She sewed up the tear in Kirsten’s Lady Loki cape and found a blue tie for me. We had planned to be the Winchesters and Castiel but made last minute changes. “Stop being sad, you’ll look like a weeping angel.” We laughed.

***

The hunt was on.

“There’s millions of these little things,” Kirsten said when she picked up a Funko Pop.

“I know,” I huffed. “Where’s the Marvel booth? It’s gotta be somewhere.”

I studied the map, closely examining the numbered tables and matching them to their labels.

“There,” I said as I pointed to a square on the map. “Next to the Death Note booth.”

“Awkward.”

We shuffled through the crowded pathways with eyes as sharp as Hawkeye, scanning through the bundles of comics and merchandise. Among the sea of fellow costumed geeks, Kirsten was counting how many Winchesters she could find. She complained that there were barely any Dean cosplayers; we needed her here. As we moved along, we got as many costume compliments as we gave. To say the atmosphere was friendly would be an understatement. “Can I take your picture?” was the most shocking question, which we got a lot. Kirsten said it was “flattering” and to “stop scowling.” I narrowed my eyes and tilted my head.

“I’m in character,” I scowled in the lowest voice I could muster. We laughed.

***

“I’ve got it!” Kirsten shouted to me from two tables over: one of the Marvel booths.

Running, tripping over her cape to me, she held the object of our desire. Such a cute little figure in its small little box. It was perfect timing because the signing was about to start.

It took ages to get to the front of the line but we got there. Kirsten had a mini break down as she looked upon “her creator,” as she put it. Stan Lee gave her a hug to calm her down. It did the opposite and I got her a paper bag. He signed her Loki helmet, a few comics, and finally the small little box. We took a few pictures and got on our way, both of us trembling still. “Hey Cas, we just met Stan Lee.”

Comic-Con was nearly over so we headed home.

I wish she could’ve been here. I remember last year; we were Nine, Ten, and Eleven from Doctor Who. She had finally gotten the last issue of The Crow that she had been looking for the past year or so. Kirsten got a Sonic Screwdriver pizza cutter and I snagged a box set of season four of Supernatural. The car ride home was anything but quiet; we were still hyperventilating from everything.

Now, Kirsten was sleeping in the backseat and the passenger seat was empty.

***

We stood in her doorway waiting for her. She came into the room with a Tardis blanket engulfing her. The blue of the blanket was such a contrast against her pale face. She looked so exhausted and we had just woken her up.

“It’s almost midnight,” she said between coughs.

Kirsten lifted the edge of her cape and bowed gracefully. “Sorry to wake you, my liege.”

“We had to give it to you as soon as possible,” I said, fumbling to get the box out of my bag.

“I’ll give you a hint; it’s not a stupid keychain,” Kirsten added excitedly.

Together we handed it to her, a signed New York Comic Con exclusive Stan Lee Funko Pop.

She stared at it, blinking in disbelief. Tears welled up in her eyes as she gingerly took the box into her hands. The blanket slipped off of her shoulders as she gazed at the figure. I could’ve sworn I glimpsed a bit of color in her face again.

“You idjits, I love you guys.”