A/N: This is something I've been working on for a while. I wanted it to be silly and funny but also to have some sort of meaning. Dedicated to everyone in the GI fandom, whether you like it or not! Especially to JWood201, who's about to conquer New York City and who has been my buddy ever since I discovered GI. I hope we'll still be exchanging emails when we're 80!
Surgical Support
If there was one thing Gilligan liked more than Mary Ann's coconut creme pies, it was-
Well, there was nothing Gilligan liked more than Mary Ann's coconut creme pies, but butterfly hunting came a close second.
Especially butterfly hunting with Mary Ann.
The perky Kansan farm girl was Gilligan's closest friend after the Skipper, but lately she had been too busy cooking, cleaning and taking care of everyone else's needs to go butterfly hunting with him. It was hard to find five minutes in the day when Mary Ann wasn't engrossed in her daily chores, and butterfly hunting wasn't much fun without her. Gilligan missed the way she squealed with delight and clutched his arm when she spied a silken winged butterfly poised on a branch with its wings trembling. He had tried squealing and clutching his own arm, but it just wasn't the same.
So when Mary Ann finally agreed to go butterfly hunting with him one balmy afternoon, Gilligan was so excited he nearly fell over his own feet in front of her. He fidgeted like a hyperactive toddler as she folded the garments she'd been repairing and calmly packed away her sewing box. He danced around her as she collected her butterfly net from the Supply Hut and his excitement didn't wear off even when they were deep in the deepest depths of the jungle, half way to the other side of the island. He grinned widely from ear to ear, brandishing his butterfly net like the spoils of war, waving it around as if he were leading a procession through streets lined with cheering crowds. Mary Ann laughed to herself as she watched her happy friend cavorting among the leaves, letting out an Indian war cry every now and again as he jumped and twisted in midair while butterflies fluttered all around him.
Gilligan was a fast mover and he soon disappeared from view, causing Mary Ann to increase her pace a little as she followed behind. Fortunately Gilligan was also loud as a foghorn and his war cries helped to lead her in the right direction until suddenly his whoops and shouts took on a different tone altogether.
"Ooooo- asaaaargh!"
Mary Ann's fingers tightened around the butterfly net as she hurried towards the agonized yell. She pushed her way through overhanging banana leaves and palm fronds until she came upon the First Mate crouched on the ground near a large boulder. He was doubled over, moaning in pain. Mary Ann dropped the net and ran over to her friend, feeling a knot tighten in her stomach.
"Gilligan," she asked, worriedly. "Gilligan? Are you all right? What happened?"
Gilligan's only reply was to moan louder. Mary Ann's nurturing instincts took over and she dropped to her knees beside him. "It's all right, Gilligan, it's all right," she soothed, brushing the dark bangs away from his forehead. "Tell me where it hurts."
"Hurts..." Gilligan whimpered, rocking back and forth. "Mary Ann, it hurts!"
Perhaps he cracked his elbow on that boulder, Mary Ann surmised. It wouldn't surprise me, the way he was flailing around. She reached out to touch his arm and he flinched, emitting a soft moan. Yes, that must be it, she reckoned. He's hurt his arm so badly that it's painful to even talk.
"Mary Ann..." Gilligan began in a low, mournful tone, but Mary Ann put her fingers to his lips and shushed him.
"It's okay, Gilligan, you don't have to say anything," she whispered, gently. "I know what to do."
Mary Ann stood up and turned around. She slipped her hands underneath the back of her pink turtleneck, grasped the fastening of her brassiere and calmly unhooked it. Sometimes I wonder why I even bother with a brassiere, she thought to herself as she carefully worked the straps down each arm. It's not as if I'm built like Ginger.
After several minutes of clumsy writhing that Gilligan would have been proud of, Mary Ann finally released the bra and pulled it out from underneath her creased and rumpled turtleneck. Resisting the urge to shout "Voila!", she turned around and was embarrassed to find Gilligan watching her intently, an unreadable expression in his eyes. A flush of warmth crept up her neck but she ignored it and got down to business.
"Now see here, Gilligan, I'm going to use my..." she faltered as the word 'brassiere' stuck in her throat. She coughed politely and waved the undergarment like a banner in front of the startled First Mate's face. "This, as a temporary sling for your arm. Now, hold still!"
Gilligan squirmed as Mary Ann knelt beside him and started wrapping her brassiere around his elbow. The fabric was still warm from the touch of her flesh and he gulped nervously.
"Back on the farm we had to improvise all the time." Mary Ann's attempt at light conversation was as much to assuage her embarrassment as Gilligan's as she proceeded to fumble the straps over his head. "For instance, when the tractor broke down, Uncle George made a replacement fan belt out of Aunt Martha's hosiery. Would you believe he made her take her stockings off, right out there in the middle of the field!"
This didn't do much to quell the embarrassment of either castaway. Gilligan gave a little yip, and Mary Ann giggled nervously. "Of course we didn't always resort to our underwear to..."
Gilligan squeaked again, Mary Ann coughed again, and the conversation ground to an awkward halt. The blushing farm girl continued working in silence, hooking the brassiere's shoulder straps over Gilligan's head, lengthening them to suit. Eventually she succeeded in fixing it like a makeshift sling around his neck, and sat back to admire her handiwork.
She had to admit, he was a sight. His hat was askew on his head and his face bore the most pitiful expression of dismay as he sat there in silence with her brassiere wrapped around his neck like a medieval torture device made of pink polyester. He looked for all the world like Raggedy Andy at the Doll Hospital.
"How's that?" she asked, trying to suppress a giggle.
"Tight," Gilligan whimpered.
Mary Ann gave him a sympathetic look. "I'm sorry, Gilligan. I can't help it that I have small..." she stopped and cleared her throat. "I can't help being little."
Gilligan's eyes flickered downwards and suddenly Mary Ann was conscious of the fact that her turtleneck was made of rather thin material. Her skin began to tingle. She crossed her arms quickly over her chest to hide her involuntary arousal and Gilligan tore his gaze away, his brow furrowed with guilt.
Mary Ann suddenly felt nervous and unsure of herself. She became hyper aware of Gilligan's presence- his male presence, the fact that they were both out here in the jungle with no one else around. She was aware that she could smell him, his perspiration, his body heat- and the more she tried not to think about him the more her body responded. It scared her slightly, but it excited her, too. She liked Gilligan; she liked him a lot- she'd known it from the moment they met. But right now she needed to regain control of herself. She took a deep breath and scrambled awkwardly to her feet with her arms folded demurely across her chest.
"We ought to get back to the huts so we can take a look at you," she said, trying to ignore the thump and swish of her own blood pounding in her ears.
"Sure," mumbled Gilligan. He struggled to his own feet and stood there swaying slightly. "Oh, boy, I don't feel so good," he confessed. "I feel like I'm back on the Minnow!"
Noticing how pale and shaky he looked, Mary Ann dashed to his side and put her arms around him to hold him up. His health was more important right now than her silly modesty! She pressed herself against him and helped him to regain his balance. He gulped nervously and leaned against her, allowed her to begin guiding him down the path. He was unsteady on his feet, a little shaky still, and she gave him all the time he needed to negotiate his way along, murmuring encouraging words as he stepped delicately over stones and branches.
"Let's get you home and I'll make you a coconut creme pie all to yourself," she promised.
Gilligan brightened considerably and the colour miraculously returned to his cheeks. "All to myself?"
Mary Ann nodded. "That perked you up, didn't it?"
"I'll say!" Gilligan smacked his lips and rubbed his stomach with his free hand.
"A big, fluffy coconut creme pie," she said, trying not to dwell on the way her ...chest... rubbed against him as she helped him walk slowly along the path. "Still warm from the oven, with a perfect, golden crust and a deliciously crunchy topping."
"Mmmm-mmmm," said Gilligan, his eyes rolling dreamily.
"Bursting with delicious coconutty-ness."
"The best kind," Gilligan agreed.
"Soon you'll have forgotten all about the pain of your poor elbow," Mary Ann smiled, helping him over a small fallen log.
There was a silence that almost went unnoticed, except that Gilligan gave a small, guilty sounding whimper. "My elbow?" he squeaked.
Mary Ann looked up at him, puzzled. "Why, yes, Gilligan. Your elbow. You banged your elbow on the boulder back there, that's why I put it in a sling."
Gilligan shook his head. "No, Mary Ann. I stubbed my toe!"
Mary Ann's eyes widened and her jaw dropped in a most unladylike fashion. It took one or two awkward moments for her brain to register what her friend had just said. Her mouth went dry and the blood ran cold down her arms.
"You. Stubbed. Your. Toe?" she repeated, slowly.
Gilligan nodded, his face twisting into a look of utter shame.
"You. Stubbed. your. Toe?" she repeated, a little louder this time.
Gilligan nodded again, chewing on the inside of his lower lip.
Mary Ann stepped back as though Gilligan were a hot potato. "You stubbed your toe, and you sat there while I... while I took off my... my... my... my thing," she pointed at her bra wrapped tightly around Gilligan's arm and neck, "and you let me ... and you didn't say a word... and I... and you... and..." she threw her arms up in despair. "OH!" she exclaimed. "Gilligan! You are the absolute limit!"
"Mary Ann, I couldn't stop you! You were determined! You wanted to fix me like your Uncle George fixed the tractor!" Gilligan's voice cracked and rose a notch as he defended himself. "You didn't wait for me to tell you what happened. You made up your own mind!"
Mary Ann's mouth opened and closed like a goldfish's as Gilligan carried on like a burst dam.
"You never stop!" he continued, getting into his stride. "You're always here, there and everywhere. If it isn't cooking, it's cleaning, and if it isn't cleaning, it's washing, or sewing, or sweeping, or tidying, even when it doesn't need doing, you do it. You do things before anyone even asks you to. You're always busy. You never have time for fun any more. I was so excited that you came butterfly hunting with me that I couldn't stop dancing around, and that's when I kicked the boulder by accident. And it hurt real bad, and I couldn't speak for a few minutes and by that time you already had your... your... your thing, halfway over my head!" He tried gesticulating with his bound arm, waving his bony elbow in the air. Mary Ann ducked as his elbow just missed the top of her head.
"But Gilligan, you were doubled over in agony! I thought you were seriously hurt!"
"I'm a man! I would've gotten over it!"
"You were whimpering like a puppy!"
Gilligan went red in the face. "A boy puppy, not a girl puppy!"
They stood staring at each other for a few tense moments, and then Mary Ann burst into laughter. She laughed until tears rolled down her face. She laughed until she had to clutch her stomach to stop the pain. She laughed long and hard, not caring if she started snorting and gulping for air. she laughed and laughed, and it felt good. It felt good to let it all out. She laughed until there was no more air in her lungs, and then she swatted Gilligan with her hand, then with both hands, playfighting with him until he started laughing too, out of puzzlement more than anything.
"I guess I did jump to conclusions," she sighed, twanging one of the bra straps around his neck. "I just wanted to help, that's all."
Gilligan blushed. "I know you did, Mary Ann. And I'm glad that you did. But no one's gonna think badly of you if you don't always get there first."
Mary Ann stared at him. She tried to processed what he'd said, but she needed more information.
"What do you mean?" she asked, not sure whether she was going to like what she heard.
"I mean, if Skipper rips his pants, that's his problem. He should learn how to sew. He already knows how to patch a sail and make a knot. Sewing should come easy to him. And Ginger knows how to cook, you should let her take over more often. The huts don't always need sweeping. The sand doesn't have to be straight. You're allowed to have fun, Mary Ann. You're the same as everyone else."
"But if I don't do it, who will?" Mary Ann's voice dropped to a whisper.
Gilligan shrugged with one shoulder. "Whoever wants it to get done, I guess."
Mary Ann frowned. "But then there would be chaos."
"No there wouldn't," said Gilligan. "There are seven of us, remember? Seven people means fourteen arms and fourteen legs. That's more than enough to keep the place ship shape. Besides, I work hard too, and I still have time for fun. I don't care what anyone thinks. Fun is important!"
Mary Ann lifted her chin and looked directly into Gilligan's eyes. "You're right," she declared. "Fun is important! Why, I can't remember the last time I laughed like that. I'm only twenty years old and sometimes I feel like everyone's mother. I'm always so busy trying to be the perfect housekeeper. Well, not any more!" She closed her hands into fists and lifted her arms into the air. "Viva la revolution!"
Gilligan blinked. "Uh... okay!"
"No more Little Miss Perfect! Look at me, I'm not even wearing A BRA!"
Gilligan yelped and averted his eyes from the sight of Mary Ann jumping up and down and dancing in circles, her small breasts bouncing freely under her pink turtleneck.
"No more doing what everyone wants! No more picking up after other people!"
Gilligan watched in wide eyed wonder as his friend cavorted around the jungle like a woodland nymph. He almost winced in fear as she leapt through the air and landed beside him, her face a picture of mischief.
"Come on, Gilligan. Let's get you home. I'll make you the biggest, fluffiest, creamiest, sweetest pie you ever tasted! No, make that two of the biggest, fluffiest, creamiest, sweetest pies you ever tasted. The first one for your stubbed toe, and the second one for being the wisest man I ever met!"
With that, Mary Ann grabbed Gilligan's free hand and ran off down the path. Gilligan, his face a picture of confusion and delight, hung back for a second, and then, like a cartoon character with its arm being stretched, launched himself after her, leaving a small tornado of leaves circling dizzily in his wake.
The End