Did a few grammar checks and such. I'm so glad so many people like this, I was a little worried it might seem OOC. Actually, I've only just got into the GI fanbase. I'm only 20 but I have such a fondness for the old shows, Star Trek, Gilligan's Island, Dark Shadows... Something my parents didn't inherit I guess. But I saw a commercial the other day for MeTV that said Gilligan's Island was gonna start showing and it looked interesting so I watch a few episodes online and I was in love.
If your looking forward to more, then happy news! This isn't complete. I still have a few drabbles in my head yet and come up with even more with ever episode I watch so if your a die hard MAG fan like me, then be prepared for lots of fluff and love and maybe even some limey goodness.
Gilligan's Island Drabbles
Just some short little ideas that popped into my head while watching the series.
She sighs, wrings the water from her hair and sits against the cave wall as Gilligan tempers the fire across the way. Outside the rain pours in rivets at the mouth of their temporary home, then lightning strikes, illuminating the interior and sending shadows dancing over the walls. Thunder follows, loud and frightening and Mary Ann flinches at the sound.
She snuggles into the borrowed red shirt, wrapping her arms tightly around herself and reveling in the warmth it brings. Watches her companion hang her own dripping shirt up by the fire, then stalks back to her. He sits beside her, folds his hands over his stomach and twiddles his thumbs nervously. She finds it endearing and smiles warmly at him as she sets a gentle hand on his shoulder.
"Gee, I'm sorry for all this Mary Ann." He says, removing his ever present white hat to wring in his hands. "Gilligan, it's not your fault."
They'd been exploring the island when the storm hit. She smiles. "In fact, if it hadn't been for you finding this cave, we'd still be out there!"
He shrugs and drops his head back against the cave wall. "I know, but if you hadn't been helping me, you could be home right now instead of in this cold, damp cave."
"True." Mary Ann says, replacing her hand with her cheek as she nestles into his side. He's surprisingly warm despite the slight chill of the cave. True to his nature, he stiffens and his hands stop twisting at his cap. "But how boring would that be?" She continues.
She plucks the cap from his frozen fingers and drops it onto his head, finishing with a kiss to his cheek. He just sits there, and his thumbs resume their restless dance. The combined heat from her personal pillow and the fire at her feet lulls her into a dreamy state, and her eyes flicker as she tries to stay awake.
She snakes her arms loosely around him, worming her way beneath his arm. She's tired, and it's been a long day. All she wants to do is sleep but is reluctant to in this atmosphere. Lightning flashes, and she tenses, waiting. Even though she expects it, the resounding crash of thunder makes her jump anyway, and she briefly clings to her companion until the sound passes.
Gilligan relaxes and glances down at her frightened whimper. It's subtle enough but he catches it all the same. There's a grimace on her face as she buries it into his side.
"I didn't know you were scared of thunderstorms, Mary Ann." He says. She blows a steady breath through her nose and picks absently at a loose thread in his shirt. "It's not that really…" She says. The smell of him soothes her, the scent of ocean and wild banana and something else…something so…Gilligan. "When I was a little girl, a twister swept through our farm. So I'm not scared of them, just…wary."
She looks up into his curious blue eyes. "Which is one of the reasons why I'm glad I'm in this stuffy old cave and not back home in my little hut. If it gets too bad, I'll be safe and sound right here with you."
His lips twitch into a semblance of a grin and the arm wrapped around her shoulders tightens slightly.
He can't stop thinking about her. It's been days since the incident with Mrs. Howell's attempt at matchmaking and Gilligan's beginning to think her plan may have worked after all. Most of the time, the wiles of women do not affect him. But all men have their moments and objects of weakness.
Now, he's starting to lose control of something that had never been an issue before, and it's all her fault. His every thought is consumed by her; her smile, her laugh, her pies, her singing…Mary Ann!
The way she speaks to him in that sweet, affectionate way and her gentle smile causes his hands to twitch. The way her hips jut out when she walks causes his eyes to roam. The way she struts by him so he'll catch her spicy scent as she passes causes his mind to go places it shouldn't.
He's losing control of himself, and he doesn't like it. What he likes even less is that he's starting to enjoy it.
It's his birthday, and the party is a grand one (and how could it be any less with Mrs. Howell the planner?). There's tiki torches scattered around the perimeter of the camp and the lights cast a warm glow around the huts. Ginger has taught Mary Ann how to Hula dance and as part of her (Ginger's) gift to him, she has choreographed a dance for the night.
But his eyes aren't on Ginger (though he isn't in the least ungrateful) but on Mary Ann. He's seen her in less, he knows he has. But there something very sensual about the palm fronds skirt that clings low around her waist. There's a certain beauty in the tropical flowers in her hair and around her neck, in her gentle movements and teasing smile. His hands itch. The light kisses her skin, flickers shadows across her naval and in the slight dip above it. He wants so desperately to touch her but his fingers pull at his hat instead. She sends him a teasing smile when she catches him watching her so intently, her hands beckoning him to her like a siren, but Gilligan stays rooted in the sand.
He's always wanted her in one way or another, yet he's always been able to have some sort of control; but ever since she decided to get closer, to break all rules of should and shouldn't, he can't starve off his hunger in front of people much longer, he won't be able to stop himself when the days comes and he pulls her to him and outright consumes her in public view.
He's drunk, but not heavily so, only enough to make his head swim and his tongue sluggish and his steps stagger. It's the Skipper's fault, when the crate of assorted alcohol had washed up on the beach following a storm, the man had insisted on a drinking match. Hell bent and determined to settle a bet they'd made back in their Naval days, (it had come as quite the shock to him when he'd found out that the bumbling buffoon that was his lieutenant could outdrink any sailor aboard the ship) and with a smile and weary sigh, Gilligan had conceded.
The match ended as it always did after a bottle and a half of hard tequila, with the Skipper completely knackered and passed out in his bunk and Gilligan stumbling around giggling lightly to himself in his victory. He made it as far as the beach before Mary Ann caught up to him, her hand clamping around his left arm while his right waved the half empty bottle in the air as he turned in surprise.
"Ooohhh, hey…" He pauses, swaying lightly in her grip. "Mary Ann."
She smiles, pulls him back towards the huts. "C'mon Gilligan, I think you've had quite enough. Time for bed."
She stops at the intense stare he's giving her, as if she's said something strange but as she backtracks over her words she can't find anything wrong. "Gilligan?"
Suddenly, he smiles and drops back into the sand and she screams as he accidentally pulls her down with him. "Ya'know? I think I'mma sleep sh'ere." He slurs slightly and she sighs, cushioning her head on her arm. She'll humor him for now, wait till he's asleep, then go get the Professor to help carry him back to his hut. "Alright Gilligan." She closes her eyes and waits.
For a moment, he's quite, just staring at her. The moon is full and illuminates the area with bright, blue light. The waves crashing below lull him into an almost tranquil state. His eyes fixate on her hair (she's wearing it down tonight), it's longer, brushing past her shoulder blades and contrasts sharply with the white sand. It's shiny and wavy and suddenly he wants to touch it. Her eyes flutter open as his long fingers slip into the tangles by her ear, runs through the silky threads as if they were made of water. His face is blank, thinking.
"Ya'know something…" He whispers and she hums softly in question. "I always thought you were the most beautiful girl I ever seen."
His fingers leave her hair to trace over her cheek and she releases a breathy sigh as she smiles. "Really?"
His thumb traces a path down her jawline, then back up again to her hair. "Ever since I first saw you."
"That's…I don't know what to say, Gilligan." She whispers, warmth pooling into her chest as she smiles shyly at him. "Makes me feel really good." Mary Ann brings her own hand up and twines her fingers with his. They're rough and work worn, but the backs are soft and smooth like old leather. She brushes her thumb over his knuckles. "You know other people have said that to me before, and…it was meaningless."
"Why, cause you thought they were pulling your leg?" The childish way in which he asks makes her grin. "No," She shakes her head, leaning up to prop her chin in her other hand, watching their hands. "No, I just, I don't know…from them it was just…meaningless. And then, you say it and I hear it…I really hear it."
She laughs at the absurdity of it all and falls back into the sand, releasing him. "I wouldn't lie to you, Mary Ann." He whispers and she sighs, closing her eyes. "I know you wouldn't Gilligan." He shifts beside her and when she opens her eyes, he's leaning over her and her breath hitches in her throat. He can't take it any longer, can't wait any longer; and before he even realizes what he's doing, his lips are already crashing onto hers.
Tears stream down her face and pool under the dirty fingers clamped over her mouth. Her screams muffled, she cannot cry out, cannot warn him though she kicks and claws and scratches and oh how she tries to break free! The Head-Hunter holding her captive is easily twice her size and just shifts, tightens his grip as his companion sneaks closer towards her ignorant friend. His back is turned to her, his red shirt bright in the afternoon sun. He's looking for her. Calling her name, pistol lodged in his belt. They know she's missing, has been since this morning. Maybe they even know who took her, but none of it matters now, because the Head-Hunter is closing in on him, crudely sharpened, stone dagger raised ready to strike.
Her captor shifts again and she bites down hard on his fingers. Her jumps, releases her mouth with a shout and, "Gilligan, turn around!"
She's thankful then more than ever that Gilligan's nature is to shoot first and ask questions later, because he turns, pistol raised and fires. The Head-Hunter falls and her captor, having never seen such a weapon before in his life, slackens his grip in fear. Gilligan spots them amongst the underbrush and after the initial look of surprise, comes an expression she's never seen on him before. An expression of cold determination and anger and something else she can't name. Not directed at her, but her captor who, even facing a man as small as Gilligan, stiffens as the foreign weapon is leveled at him. "Let her go." Gilligan's voice has never sounded so cold before and she shivers, her fingers clenching around the arm around her collar. The Head-Hunter doesn't move and Gilligan cocks the gun, and she wonders if he shoots, will he hit her instead? As clumsy as he is? But he did manage to shoot the other one.
Finally, after what seems like years, the Head-Hunters grip slackens and he releases her. She drops to her knees, brings her hands up to her throat and chokes as she tries to steady her shaking, suck air into her lungs and not break down into a sobbing mess. She hears the crashing of underbrush behind her and knows her captor is running for his life. Something, fear, tightens in her belly. He'll tell others about the death of his tribesman, more will come. They have to stop him! But it's too late, he's gone now.
Something lands in front of her and she looks up and sees Gilligan. Without a thought she throws her arms around his neck, buries her face into his collar and cries.
He drops the pistol and clings to her just as fervently.
www .youtube. com / watch?v=N2cEPvyNHaA(Because Jamie Bell looks like a cute little blond Gilligan in this movie and it was so easy to imagine that it was him. Please Watch!)
Ginger taught her to Hula, so Gilligan sets it in his mind to teach her the Jitterbug. She laughs as he twirls her out, then back in again, stumbling slightly off step. "Careful, now." He tells her with a laugh of his own. He's surprisingly good, and an even greater teacher. He's yet to lose his temper with her even though she trips over every other step he's tried to teach her. She's beginning to realize how much she goes out of her way to get his attention, and how often he seems to give it to her.
Jim Dandy blasts from the radio at the edge of the stage they'd built for Ginger's performances.
"Now, just hold your leg out like this and, shake it!" He demonstrates and she dissolves into a fit of giggles. "Gilligan, that's absurd!"
"That's the Jitterbug."
She copies him anyway and soon, they have a nice little thing going, not perfect yet for sure but it's growing into…something. Suddenly, his hands grasp at her waist and he lifts her, swinging her up then bends as her legs shoot out on either side of his hips and back on her feet again. Her pulse pounds, adrenaline courses through her veins and she can't get enough of it all. He swings her out beside him and they go to swinging their legs out in a kicking motion, bend at the waist, snap back up, their hands raised in a mock salute and she laughs again. She snatches the hat off his head as he circles her, hands up pinching the font of his shirt, and plops it onto her own head as she does a little jig of her own. She doesn't even think what they're doing classifies as any type of dance anymore, they're just having fun.
He clasps her hands in his and swings them in a circle until she's breathless and flushes and smiling like there's no tomorrow. He finishes by picking her up, swings her around as she holds her hands high above her head in childish glee. Kisses her cheek sweetly as he sets her on her feet again and she sets his hat lopsidedly back on his head. It's only then that they hear the clapping. They turn, find that the whole group is there, watching. A blush rises to her face and she pats at her cheeks with her hands.
Her soft hand carefully takes hold as her fingers intertwine with his own, testing boundaries at making such a public gesture in front of everyone, but instead of pulling away all he can do is smile at her.
"Close your eyes." He says and she does. She feels something touch her hair, slide down and settle around her neck. His fingers linger against her collar for a moment before they're gone again. "Okay, now you can open them."
She opens her eyes and gasps. It's a necklace, beaded with beautiful ivory shells and three perfect little pearls; one, the one in the middle, is pink. She chokes back tears and nods vigorously when he asks if she likes his present. "Oh, Gilligan, it's beautiful!"
"It suits you then." He goes back to being bashful, eyes averted, left toe nudging slightly at the right, hand buried deep in his pockets. She grins, places her hands against his face and pulls him down for a well-deserved kiss. The best part about this present is he lets her and doesn't hesitate to return the sentiment.
She tells him to kiss her, but it still surprises her when he suddenly does.
He wants her to make him his favorite coconut crème pie with slices of mango thrown in the mix. And because she's feeling playful today, she grins, tugs on the collar of his shirt and smiles as he quirks a brow at her. "Okay, Gilligan, but…"
"But what?" She can hear the whine in his voice, knows he tired, knows the Skipper's been running him extra hard today. And because she knows that he's Gilligan and he needs to have at least a little fun every day, she grins, and backs away slowly. "You'll have to catch me first!" She catches his grin before she pivots on her heel and takes off into the jungle.
She's running. Dodging trees and rocks and vines, she tries to put as much distance between them as she can but he's catching up. She can hear him, closing in, closer. Her breath lodges in her throat, adrenaline courses through her veins, her heart pounds faster, so fast she thinks it'll burst right out of her chest if she doesn't stop soon.
She makes a split second turn around a banana tree, hears him shoot past her, curses as he trips over a vine. There, up ahead, there's a large boulder, large enough for her to hide behind. She ducks down behind it, hears him catch up, watches him pause, breathing heavily. He's lost her, she thinks gleefully. He scratches his head, bends to place his hands on his knees to catch his breath, then he's gone again, jogging off into the underbrush.
She waits, slowly emerges from her hiding spot. With a gleeful squeal, she claps her hands and does a little dance in victory. 'I win.' She thinks, pressing her fingertips to her lips. Of course, she'll make him the pie anyway. She just wants him to relax after a long day of work. After all, all work and no play makes for a very Grumpy Gilligan.
She giggles to herself, then screams in fright as two arms circle around her waist, pulls her back and up against the rock. "Gilligan!"
"Gotcha!" He smiles that boyish smile and she pouts at her loss. "That's not fair, you cheated." She says, though knows it's entirely untrue. He chuckles, presses his forehead to hers and she can't help but smile at the happiness shown in those crystal blue eyes. "I think you're just a sore loser, Mary Ann."
She concedes with a grin and she wraps her arms around his neck to pull him closer. "Hmm, maybe."
"So, about my prize…"
"Alright, I'll go make your pie, now."
"Actually…" He says with no small amount of cockiness. "I think I should get two prizes because you cheated!" Her mouth drops open affronted. "Wha, I never…" He holds a slender finger to her lips that makes her insides twist wonderfully.
"You said I had to catch you, you didn't say anything about hide and go seek."
She sighs. "You're right, I didn't. Very well, what'll it be then? Two pies? You want me to go exploring tomorrow? Although, you'll have to take that up with Ginger, after all it is my turn to do the laundry tomorrow and…"
The sudden and very impromptu kiss silences her completely and her mind goes blank.
Quite suddenly she's forgotten whatever she'd been talking about to begin with and as his fingers trace a path down her arms leaving goosebumps in their wake, she finds she doesn't care. None of it matters anymore because he's pressing her into the rock and though it should hurt, it doesn't. In fact, if it weren't for that blessed rock, Mary Ann knows she wouldn't have the strength to stand. Her hands tangle in his hair, knocking the white cap off his head. His tongue flicks delicately at her lips and she smiles into the kiss, deepens it, savors it. His hands smooth down her sides, over her hips, across the expanse of her back.
She sighs his name into his lips and he moves to her cheek, her ear, her neck. He's surprisingly gentle, it makes her wish this could last forever; but that only reminds her that it probably won't, so she jumps into the moment while it's still there. She clings to him for dear life, afraid that he'll snap out of the fever he's induced with and run away again. She desperately hopes not.
She slides her hands down his arms, stops at his waist, hesitantly inches beneath the red shirt. Waits for him to snap to attention, drop her where she stands and take off sprinting into the jungle. Wants to cry and laugh at the same time when he gives and impatient little growl and reaches over his head to grasp the shirt from behind, pulls it up and off and away somewhere behind him.
"Gilligan." She sighs and his answering moan almost deters her completely but she has to make sure. "Gilligan." She steadies her voice but it's hard as he continues his ministrations to her collar. "Gilligan!"
He snaps to and she fights the grin at his disheveled hair, and bruised mouth and clouded eyes. Suddenly, those eyes grow fearful and she bites her lip. "Oh, Mary Ann…I…Oh, gosh…I'm so sorry!" He turns away but the second before he can let her go and run away and ruin everything, she catches his face in her hands and looks at him, really looks at him. His eyes are clear, if not a little darker than before. And like she knows she won't, Mary Ann finds nothing in them that would even hint at dishonorable intent. But, she has to be absolutely sure.
"Gilligan, I…" she pauses, afraid. There's only two ways this could turn out. "I just wanted to say…I love you…" She finishes tentatively.
Mary Ann holds her breath. Watches the emotions flit across his face, from shock to nervous to thoughtful. It isn't until a broad, bone cracking grin stretches across his face that she allows herself to relax. His hand slides into her hair, cups the back of her head and he presses his forehead to hers. She closes her eyes and lets out a heavy breath through her nose as he whispers his reply, 'I love you too, Mary Ann. Didn't you know that?' A watery laugh bubbles out of her throat and she kisses him hard.
His hands reach down, grab her legs, and lift her up. She wraps them around his waist, presses warm kisses to the bump in his throat. He turns, trips on his shoelace and they fall into a bed of moss and vines and flowers. She laughs at his clumsy ways, lets him press her into the soft undergrowth, takes his face in her hands.
In the afterglow of love, what once was so terrifying, it seems all they both want to do is lay there tangled in each other, content; feeling like they have all the time in the world.
She surfaces with a small splash and wraps her arms around his shoulders as he surfaces after her. Almost unconsciously, his head dips to presses warm lips to her shoulder, slow, soothing. His hands are cool against her skin, sparking a tremble along her spine as his hand, with a gentle smooth touch, caresses along her back, circling each vertebra. She's good to him, better than anyone has ever been to him and he loves her for it. It's hot today, the kind of heat which can only be relieved by swimming in the lagoon. Yet even chest deep in the lagoon he can't escape it and this thought brings a smile to his lips. Gilligan breathes a heavy sigh through his nose and pulls her up so he can rest his head under her chin. He clasps his hands under her as she wraps her legs around his stomach and for a while they just float there; relishing this lazy afternoon while they can.
Her fingers play with his hair, twisting the strands back and forth in her grip. Its soothing and he starts to feel drowsy. He'd give anything for a nap but doesn't want to leave her just yet. Thinks about building them their own separate hut just so he won't have to. Thinks of other, better reasons he should do this and his grip tightens slightly.
"Mary Ann, if I asked you extra nicely, would you move in with me?" He mumbles into her collar. She giggles. "With you and…Skipper? Honey, you can't be serious!"
He snorts. "No! I mean, I…Well I've been thinking about building my own hut lately and…" She kisses the top of his head. "Of course I will." She grins. She wonders when he'll ask her. She hasn't been hinting around at it, but others have, Ginger especially. But she doesn't want to push him. Wants to know it's what he wants.
She knows she'd wait forever for him if that was what it would take.
She stands at the precipice. Rocks crumble at her feet, disappear down the mountainside. The Head-Hunter beckons her away from the edge, but she's not looking at him, she's looking at Gilligan. He has that look in his eyes again. A look haunted by times past; memories of war, and danger and fear. He's afraid, and at the same time not. The Head-Hunter presses his blade closer against his skin, tilting his head at an odd angle. She chokes on gasp, resists the urge to run to him.
She can read it in his expression, in his eyes. She shakes her head. She won't leave him. She can't!
'I'll be fine, now go!'
Her hair whips her face as she shakes it again, tears prickling at her eyes. She turns to the Head-Hunter. "Please, please let him go. Take me instead!"
She ignores him. "Please." She whispers through her tears. To her horror, Gilligan wrenches his arm free, slams his elbow back into the nose of his captor and drops his foot back into his shin. The man falls.
Gilligan grabs for his pistol but an arrow imbeds into his shoulder before he can fire. "No!" She screeches as he stumbles and falls over the cliffside. "Gilligan!"
The river below catches him, sweeps him away. She has to get to him, she has to save him! Shaking, she turns back to the Head-Hunters. Tears escape and slide down her cheeks though her face remains blank. In that moment, she hates them. She hates this place, hates this island! The wind blows strands of hair against her face, calms her. She sees the Skipper and the Professor emerge from the brush behind, pistols drawn. 'You're too late.'
Ginger follows, silently beckoning her away from the edge, like he did. She can't, she won't.
Mary Ann turns, steps off the edge and plunges into the depths below. Ginger screams, she hears shots above her and then nothing. The water engulfs her, drags her under. She fights it, looks for Gilligan.
He's there, clinging to a log up ahead.
Just as he's about to go under, she grabs him and pulls him to safety.
He's still stuck in a clouded haze of pain, but it's her startling vision that catches him off track, her gentle movements as she works almost dream like to help heal his wounds, her soft motions making him lose track from the times when he is awake and when he is asleep.
There's a star shaped blemish on his right shoulder, just below his collar bone. And as much as she tries, she just can't kiss it away. It haunts her how he came to have that scar. Will forever be a black stain upon her memory. She bears scars too, but hers are invisible whereas his is a screaming accusation for the foolishness of which she can never forgive herself.
She has never really been comfortable about being naked in front of someone before, but with him it's different, because even when she's standing plain in the nude as embarrassed as could be; he's still staring at her face as their eyes meet and he silently waits for her to give permission for him to look at her, and it warms her, so when she finally gets over herself and does let him look, it's one of the moments in her life where she has never felt so beautiful.
She's wringing her hands at the table, thinking hard about something. Ginger is there with her, talking in hushed tones and glancing furtively back at him and the Skipper as they thatch the roof of their soon-to-be-finished home. Idly, he wonders what could be troubling her, but knows it's probably nothing. Chalks it up to her time of the month because she hasn't talked to him hardly at all for the past three days. She gets like that sometimes, and then she comes back and makes up for the time lost. The thought makes him grin and he turns back to his work. Doing so, he doesn't catch the worried glance she throws him or the tears prickling her eyes as she stands and leaves, hand clasped tightly over her lips to muffle her sobs. Nor does he see Ginger chase after her in silence.
Suddenly, he can't breathe and she's sitting there in front of him, face buried in her hands as she cries helplessly. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry Gilligan!" Finally, her words seem to break the barrier that has erected around his mind and he snaps to attention. Sorry? What in the world has she to be sorry about? But as her hands slide up into her hair and she looks at him with an expression of such desperation he can't help but take her into his arms and kiss the top of her head. And even as she cries into his shoulder, he suddenly can't fight the grin that's spreading across his face.
He doesn't tell her anything when she asks him about why he keeps staring at her belly, even though it has her worrying about her weight no matter how many times he tells her it has nothing to do with that; he's just honestly happy to know that when he laid his head against her and curled his limbs around her, he felt a tiny little bump against his cheek. A little message that says, 'hi Daddy.'
She is always with him, so close to him, practically a part of him, a part of him that he doesn't know if he could live without; and then there's this baby boy, so new to the world, so innocent and unknowing of pain, this precious proof of them laying in his arms, and he can't think of a moment where he's ever felt so happy.