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It was a month before Christmas when Mr. Garth walked into their class, seemingly like every other day. This time, though, he asked, “Who knows the story about Bethlehem and Jesus’s birth?”
Castiel raised his hand excitedly, and with him, all the other boys did, too. And Charlie.
The teacher smiled at them. “We’re gonna have a play about it. A nativity play. And you, my friends, are going to be the actors.”
It was a week after that when Cas followed all his classmates into the old drama classroom Mr. Garth chose for their first actual play meeting.
Once everybody was in the room, the teacher clapped his hands. “We have actors, but we need so much more. We need roles.”
“The first role, the most important role of the night, baby Jesus--” Garth snickered as several boys’ hands jumped readily into the air, “I’m sorry to announce, will be played by my niece’s dearest friend... Judy.”
The children laughed when Garth showed them a newborn doll wrapped in a blue fabric. He shrugged and mouthed sorry, before putting the doll back onto his desk.
“The next role. Mary!”
Castiel felt his best friend perk up at the name. Nobody raised their hands.
“Mary? Jesus’s mom? Nobody?” Garth looked at the seven-year-olds, sighing. He turned to the only girl in the crowd. “Charlie, maybe you?”
The girl pushed her hands under her seat and shook her head. “I’m not raising my hand, Mr. Garth!” she shrugged. “Besides, I want to be a king!”
“My mom’s name is Mary.”
Garth searched for the voice. “What is that?”
Only then Dean Winchester raised his hand. “My mom’s name is Mary, too,” he spoke, a little bit louder after he got a reassuring smile from Cas who was sitting right next to him.
“Do you want to play Mary, Dean?”
The boy nodded, albeit with no confidence. That’s when Castiel Novak raised his hand, too.
“I can play Joseph,” he announced, “Mary’s husband.”
Dean seemed hesitant no more.
❄
Castiel was over at the Winchesters. Usually, after doing homework with Dean, his friend’s mom allowed them to watch TV until dinner while Sammy napped. Tonight, though, they were in the attic, searching through several boxes with the woman’s old clothes.
“I need something blue,” Dean said, pulling at the unused fabrics. “Mr. Garth said that it doesn’t have to be a dress since I’m a boy. But me and Cas and Charlie want it to be au--au...netic?”
“Authentic,” Castiel supplied, focused on his own box of clothes.
“Yes, that.”
“That makes you a good actor,” Mary said, smiling as she reached for yet another box. She could have sworn she used to wear something blue.
“The other boys don’t think so,” Dean mumbled after a moment.
Before Mary even had a chance to turn around, Cas was by his friend’s side, stroking his hunched shoulders.
“They’re stupid, don’t listen to them,” he offered instantly, blinking at Mrs. Winchester in apology at the bad word he used.
She didn’t seem to mind.
“Dean, baby,” Mary spoke, her calming voice soothing any worries the boys had, “you can wear a dress if you want to. You don’t have to if you don’t. It’s just a piece of fabric, only stitched together differently than trousers.” She smiled. “Those boys’ mothers wear dresses, don’t they?”
Dean nodded, sniffling as he rubbed at his eye.
“Well,” Mary shrugged, “I know for a fact they are very amazing women. Wearing dresses doesn’t take it away from them, does it?”
Her boy smiled then, and before Mary could say anything more, she had her arms full of her son.
“You’re very amazing, too, mommy,” Dean mumbled against her neck.
Mary just laughed.
In the end, they found her old, barely used blue nightgown. It took a little remodeling, but it looked perfect.
❄
Castiel tied the belt of his dad’s old bathrobe around himself and turned to his friend with a grin. “Now we both look authentic!”
Dean giggled where he sat by his desk in the drama classroom.
Somebody snorted behind them, and when they turned, they saw Lucifer, one of the boys who played an angel.
“You two look like you’ve only got up from bed,” he mocked, crossing his arms on his chest. He himself was wearing a white suit, the same one Cas saw him in every Sunday at Church. According to the Novak, neither Lucifer nor Michael, Lucifer's twin, looked like happy angels in this play; more like dissatisfied accountants.
Cas would have let the boy talk all he wanted, but upon seeing Dean’s red cheeks, he turned to Lucifer with a frown.
“That’s good, we wanted it that way,” he told him, pushing his chin forward and putting his hands on his hips. “It’s the middle of the night and Mary and Joseph are running away. They don’t have time to stop to get properly dressed.”
“That’s right,” Mr. Garth jumped in, walking towards them with pride in his eyes, “They’re afraid of king Herod killing little baby Jesus and they don’t want that.”
Dean felt a lot better when, after Lucifer walked away, embarrassed, Mr. Garth complimented them on their outfits.
Charlie still looked the best out of all of them in her king/warrior tunic.
❄
“Gabriel!” Mr. Garth called from the stage, scratching his head as he ran his eyes through the whole room. They were having one of their last full-dress rehearsals today and the boy was nowhere to be found. “Has anybody seen Gabriel? He needs to start the play!”
Charlie stopped playing with her toy sword. “Do you want me to go look for him, Mr. Garth?”
“What would I do without my little helper?” Garth smiled at her, and nodded. “Please, do, Charlie.”
The girl dashed away. A minute later, she dragged the boy dressed as an archangel back to the assembly hall.
❄
It was the big night, they were presenting the play soon. All the boys, and Charlie, were full of nervous anticipation. Cain kept taking his King Herod crown off his head and rolling it between his hands, Gabriel was playing with his halo headband and biting through his lollies, normally loving to let them melt on their own, Samandriel couldn’t stop smoothing the edges of his Star of Bethlehem outfit, scared that this time he surely bent one of the star’s five points.
Even Cas, ever calm and centered, continuously tugged at the brown belt of his dad’s bathrobe, looking around his classmates with wide eyes. His parents weren’t sitting in the auditorium tonight, they had informed him several days before that they wouldn’t make it.
Dean took his friend’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. He himself felt strangely peaceful. Cas had kept him calm through the month of preparations. It was his turn to make him feel better now.
“Mom and dad and Sammie are going to be there,” Dean said, taking Cas’s second hand into his own when he noticed it twitching nervously, too. “They can’t wait to see you, too.”
The Novak let out a soft sigh but smiled at his friend.
Dean smiled back and rocked their hands softly. “And after that you can come sleepover at my house. And maybe mom will make cookies with us.”
“I’d like that.”
“I’d like that, too,” Charlie cut in, grinning excitedly as she flung her arms over her friends’ shoulders. “Bring some tomorrow, for me!”
❄
*20 years later*
“Cas? Cas, come on, we’re going to be late!”
Castiel looked up from the photo in his hand when he heard his fiancé’s voice. They were about to leave their apartment to head for the first night of Dean’s first actual play in the Berkeley Repertory Theatre.
Dean was pacing from the wall to the door, fully dressed already. He stopped the moment Cas appeared in his sight. “Can you hurry up, please?”
The Novak rolled his eyes. “We won’t be late, Dean,” he assured, but gave in. He put the photo in Dean’s hand, stroking his fiancé’s fingers. “Hold it for me,” he asked and kissed his cheek, only then pulling on his shoes and coat.
Dean was smiling at the picture when Cas stood next to him again. Two seven-year-old boys were grinning back at them, cuddled side by side in their nightgown and bathrobe.
“No matter what,” Cas murmured, sliding his arm around Dean’s waist, “This has always been, and always will be, your best performance of all times.”
Dean snorted with laughter. “You think you’re so funny.”
Castiel looked up at him and smiled. “I’m the funniest man you’ll ever meet, Dean Winchester."
Their eyes met over the picture, soft and loving and caring.
“Sounds fine by me.”