Well, here goes with another MAG crackfic!
Thanks to C for coming up with the title, otherwise it might have ended up being called Ass Cave or something equally dumb.
This story references The Eye of The Idol, from the season one episode 'Three To Get Ready', and Hamlet's song from the season three episode 'The Producer'.
A Diamond In The Rough
The sun twinkled down through the canopy of leaves as Mary Ann Summers picked her way carefully through the jungle. Lately she had started going for long walks, just as Gilligan did, as a way of relaxing in between her daily chores.
There was always something that needed doing. Sewing up the Skipper's pants, for instance, had become almost a daily occurrence. Sweeping out the huts was a nightmare, too, especially when you considered that the floors were made of sand to begin with. While she loved her fellow castaways dearly, Mary Ann sometimes wished they were better at taking care of their own chores.
And talking of fellow castaways- there was one castaway in particular who gave Mary Ann the most trouble. Not because he was dirty or untidy or demanding, because he wasn't, and certainly not because he split his pants almost daily, because he was so skinny his legs didn't even touch the sides. No, the castaway who gave Mary Ann the most trouble was the sweetest, most gentle boy she had ever met. Her friend Gilligan.
There were many poems and works of literature devoted to unrequited love, but until you experienced it for yourself, you had no idea how it felt to be ignored by the object of your desire. Mary Ann had tried everything. Flirting, acting cool, even paying attention to the Professor so that Gilligan might get jealous. But nothing worked. Gilligan was still a boy-man at the age of twenty three, still engrossed in his comic books, still craving skateboards and licorice, still squirming with embarrassment whenever Ginger wore her low-cut gowns.
Mary Ann thought back to the incident when Gilligan had 'helped' her out of a tree and she had ended up with her legs wrapped round his head. After that, it had seemed as if maybe, just maybe, he was getting some idea of what went on between a boy and a girl when they liked each other. He had even suggested going tree climbing, a full four days later, and the look on his face had appeared quite promising. But then halfway down the path he changed his mind, said he'd been joking, and they ended up butterfly hunting after all.
It would be so easy if she didn't have these feelings, she knew that. She had tried to get rid of them by telling herself time and time again that Gilligan was just a boy like any other boy and that there was nothing very special about him. Nothing special about that silly hat and that shock of black hair and those expressive blue/green eyes, or that nose he was so self-conscious about, or that mouth that smiled so beautifully when he was happy and pouted so spectacularly when he was grumpy. There was nothing even remotely special about his giggling laugh or the way he could appear so heroically confident one minute and then turn and trip over his own two feet and land face down in the dirt the next. He was just a boy. A lanky, gangling, loose-limbed boy. There was nothing special about him at all.
Except that she thought about him almost every minute of every hour of every single day.
Mary Ann broke out of her thoughts and winced as a twig reached out and scraped the side of her leg. She looked down. There was already a red line appearing along her skin. She knew it was stupid to be wearing her shorts out here, but it was just too hot for jeans or pants, and a gown like Ginger's would just get snagged. But still, being torn to ribbons was no fun either.
It was while Mary Ann was examining her leg that she was distracted by a sudden flash of light coming from the middle of a snaking tangle of undergrowth. At first it seemed like one of those tricks of the mind, a starburst in the corner of her eye. But then she saw it again.
There was something in there. Something on the ground inside that cave-like nest of roots and vines, ferns and foliage. Something small and shiny. Something that was being held inside that gnarled and hostile cavern, guarded by those sharp branches and scratchy twigs like a diamond in the rough.
The sun winked through the trees and the object flashed again. Mary Ann crouched down for a better look. She reached out and tugged at the twisted vines and ropey branches that barred her way. She wondered what it could be. A piece of Ginger's jewelry? One of Mrs. Howell's brooches? Or something else?
A voodoo artifact? A rare coin?
A sudden thought struck her, and it made her heart beat faster. Maybe it was The Eye of The Idol!
They had never found the Eye after Gilligan had thrown it back into the bushes. The general consensus was that the Eye could only be found when it wanted to be found, and eventually they had forgotten about it. The best that could be said about the Eye was that it had given them some delicious ice-cream to enjoy.
But what if the Eye had returned? What if it had decided it was time someone else made three wishes? Someone who was a bit more responsible and wouldn't waste their wishes on ice-cream?
Mary Ann found she was unconsciously licking her lips. Whether it was at the thought of ice-cream or the thought that she, Mary Ann Summers, could be the one to get them all rescued, she didn't know. All she knew was that the Eye of The Idol looked like it was beckoning her, and there was no way she was going to walk past without at least attempting to get to it.
Completely forgetting about the stinging scratch on her leg, Mary Ann got down on her hands and knees and began crawling towards a small gap in the matted tangle of undergrowth.
What I could do with three wishes! I could get us all rescued...
...and I could finally get Gilligan to love me.
Mary Ann was so excited that she barely noticed the sharp branches scraping her shoulders and arms as she wriggled her way into the dank smelling darkness. She didn't even care if there were insects. It was only dirt, she told herself. Only natural vegetation. Besides, she'd encountered worse things back home on the farm. She pushed herself further and further into the tangled foliage, muttering oaths that she'd picked up from the farmhands and that no-one on the island had ever heard her use. Her hair snagged and the ribbons holding her pigtails came loose. Brambles poked and prodded her, enticing her in and then mocking her with scratches. Vines took on the appearance of snakes and made her jump. She was almost at the point of giving up and backing out when the sun winked off the hidden object and strengthened her resolve. She was nearly there- it would be silly to abandon her quest now.
With a deep breath, Mary Ann plunged into the dense thicket up to her waist and scrabbled through the dampened mud to reach the thing. Her fingers closed greedily around it, snatched it from its hiding place. Her heart was in her mouth, but her mind was already filling up with images of sailing into harbour with Gilligan's arms wrapped around her while thousands of people cheered from the dockside.
She brought it to her face, opened her hand and finally saw what it was.
It was nothing but a lump of glass, its sharp edges dulled from years of being exposed to the elements.
Mary Ann gave a loud groan of dismay while hot tears prickled her eyes. She had been tricked by her own desires. Wasn't it just ridiculous to think there was such a thing as three wishes, such a thing as boys falling unconditionally in love with girls! She had only herself to blame for her disappointment, believing in that silly Eye of The Idol nonsense.
Mary Ann threw the piece of glass down in disgust. She didn't want to be out here on her own any longer. She would rather be stitching up the Skipper's ragged pants than suffering the indignity of shattered dreams time and time again. Impatient to get back to camp and feeling more than a little fed up, she untangled a clump of her hair from a particularly malicious bramble and began to back out of the undergrowth.
It was only then that she realised she was stuck.
"I ask to be or not to be, a rogue or peasant slave is what you see..."
Gilligan had spent a long time trying to get that song out of his head, but eventually he had given in and now he found himself singing it whenever he was alone, ambling along the jungle paths on his daily excursions.
"A boy who loved his mother's knee..."
Sometimes he'd sing it, sometimes he'd hum it, sometimes he'd whistle it. Today he was doing a combination of all three. Very tunelessly.
"...and so I ask to be or not to be."
Somewhere nearby, a parrot squawked in unison.
"So here's my plea, I beg of you, and say you see a little hope for me..."
The parrot squawked louder, as though someone had pulled its tail feathers.
"To fight or flee, to fight or flee..."
The parrot screeched as though in pain. Gilligan knew he wasn't the most tuneful person in the world but surely his singing wasn't that bad!
"I ask myself to be or not to be!"
"Gilligan!" the parrot yelled.
"Aw, come on, Sam, give me a break," Gilligan said, looking around for the impudent bird. "You're not exactly Dean Martin yourself!"
"Gilligan!" the parrot cried again.
"Wait," said Gilligan, frowning. "You don't sound like Sam!"
"That's because I'm not Sam," the parrot called again.
"Then who are you?" Gilligan couldn't see where the voice was coming from. He edged slowly forward along the path, his eyes scanning left and right.
"Gilligan," the voice wailed. "It's me! Mary Ann!"
"Mary Ann?" Gilligan stopped in his tracks, his eyes wide. "Was that you all along? Where are you?"
Suddenly Gilligan remembered The Tree Incident. Something fluttered in his chest. His mouth went dry. He kept peering around, almost afraid to look up into the trees in case she was sitting there swinging her legs, her big eyes looking down at him like a baby rabbit's.
"I'm down here!" Mary Ann cried.
"Where? I can't see you!" Gilligan continued along the path in the direction of her voice and then suddenly stopped dead. "Uh...that is..I can't see all of you," he uttered, just before his mouth dried up completely.
Just a short distance ahead of him was a sight you didn't see every day. In fact, it was a sight he'd never seen on any day, in all of his twenty three short years on Earth.
There, in front of his very eyes, was half of a girl sticking out of a bush. The lower half of a girl- the half he didn't think he should be staring at so intently. As soon as the thought struck him, he slapped his hands over his eyes. But then he couldn't help making a little gap with his fingers and peeking through, just as he'd done that time when Mary Ann's swimsuit had come off in the lagoon.
"What are you doing down there?" he squeaked, nervously.
"Oh, I just thought I'd dive head first into the jungle to see what it felt like," Mary Ann replied.
"And what did it feel like?" Gilligan walked forward slowly, still peering through his fingers.
"Scratchy."
"Then why did you do it?"
"Because I thought I saw something, Gilligan. I crawled in here to get it, but it wasn't what I thought it was, and now I'm stuck!"
Gilligan removed his hands from his face and let them hang limply at his sides. "What was it?" he asked, his eyes riveted to the sight of Mary Ann's rear end as she struggled and wriggled within the confines of the brambles.
"It was just a piece of glass. But I stupidly thought it might have been the Eye of The Idol."
"Are you sure it's not the Eye of The Idol?" Gilligan said, jokingly. "Because if it was, you could wish yourself out of there!"
"Gilligan!" Mary Ann cried. "Just get me out!"
"Sorry," he mumbled. There was no way he was going to tell her that he still had the Eye of The Idol- that he hadn't thrown it away at all. Then he realised what she'd just said. "You want me to get you out?"
Mary Ann gave an incredulous gasp. "No, Gilligan, I want you to leave me here with my head stuck in the bushes and I want you to just stand there gawking at my butt!"
"I'm not gawking at your butt!" Gilligan said. But he was.
"Well, I can't get out by myself!" Mary Ann wailed. "My hair's all caught up and every time I move I get attacked by branches. You have to help me, Gilligan! This is no time to be shy!"
Gilligan had no idea how to approach this situation. "Maybe I should go get the Skipper," he suggested.
"No!" Mary Ann shouted. "Please, don't get the Skipper. It's bad enough with you seeing me like this, never mind anyone else. Can you imagine it, Gilligan? They'd never let me forget it!"
Gilligan watched Mary Ann kicking her legs in helpless despair. He had never, ever seen her from this angle before. He had never really noticed just how short those shorts really were, or just how snugly they fit the curves of her rounded rear end. And then there were the legs that came out of those shorts. He blinked. Those legs had once been wrapped around his head. He felt a little faint. Suddenly he realised there was no way he was going to go and get anyone else. Mary Ann wanted him to help, and however which way he did it, he was going to get her out of there himself. He was going to save her, yet again.
Mary Ann couldn't see anything but sticks and twigs and branches and dirt and her own filthy hands and arms. But she could feel Gilligan's eyes on her legs. She could feel his gaze sweeping up her thighs like lasers, leaving scorch marks on her skin. She kept struggling, even though she knew it was futile. All it did was make her backside wiggle and jiggle in front of him. All it did was give him something to look at, and she knew he was gawking, no matter what he said. Because he had gone so deathly quiet.
Unless he had run away without her knowing. That was entirely possible.
"Gilligan? Are you still there?" she asked, tentatively.
"Uh-huh," came the strangled reply.
She sighed with relief. "Gilligan, I know what this looks like, but believe me, I did try to get out on my own!"
"It's okay, Mary Ann, I know you didn't go in there on purpose. It's just...I need time to think. Um...about how I'm gonna get you out of there," he added, a little too quickly.
"I don't care how you do it, Gilligan, or what you're thinking about. All I know is, these branches are scratching me to pieces and I've never felt so stupid in all my life!"
A few moments later he was right beside her- obviously he had done enough thinking and was getting ready to help her at last. She could half see him if she turned her head to one side and looked back over her shoulder, but the thicket had closed itself around her and he was going to have to be careful not to scratch her even more when he began removing the branches.
Mary Ann was about to tell him all this when she felt his hands on either side of her waist. All the words she was going to say disappeared from her head and she held her breath, her skin tingling with sudden goosebumps. He held her gently, as if she would break if he applied any more pressure. Hours seemed to pass. In reality it was just seconds, but in those seconds every one of Mary Ann's senses sharpened.
Gilligan began to pull gently. His grip tightened just a little, sending an unexpected shiver up her spine. She felt the pressure of his leg against hers, the material of his jeans that had grown faded and smooth through countless washes. She felt the top of his thigh against the top of her thigh. He wasn't quite directly behind her, but he was close. He pulled a little harder, but the movement only made the brambles fight back, snagging in her hair and tugging at her blouse.
"Gilligan, I don't think this is going to work," she said eventually.
"But I haven't even got going yet," Gilligan replied. As if to prove his point, he started pulling more forcefully, his fingers now digging firmly into her flesh.
Mary Ann squealed in surprise. "Gilligan, I mean it! It's not working!"
"What else do you want me to do?" he asked, defiantly.
"Not pull so hard?"
"You wanted me to get you out!"
"Yes. In one piece, without leaving bits of my skin behind!"
Abruptly Mary Ann felt his hands leave her waist. In the next moment he was leaning into the thicket, shouldering the tangle of undergrowth aside. She heard the branches snap and the weeds rip as he pushed his way in. He was almost on top of her now.
"Gilligan, what exactly are you doing?" she asked plaintively.
"Trying to clear the branches, Mary Ann," he sighed. "I wish you'd stop asking me all these questions."
"Gilligan, this is crazy! There's not enough room for one person in here, let alone two," Mary Ann responded.
"We'll soon see about that," came Gilligan's reply. He carried on swiping at the brambles with both arms while Mary Ann squirmed under him, trying to stop herself from collapsing face down under his weight. She dreaded to think what they looked like to anyone passing by. Gilligan was right on top of her now, his hips pressing hard into her hips from behind. If Mrs. Howell saw them in this position, the poor woman would expire on the spot. As it was, Mary Ann was the one in danger of expiring on the spot as Gilligan heaved away on top of her, the rough fabric of his jeans rubbing back and forth over her bare thighs as he carried on ripping the roots and vines away.
After what seemed like a lifetime of delicious agony, Gilligan pushed himself off her with a grunt and got behind her again. This time he held fast to her hips and yanked hard, ignoring her yelps as the brambles pulled back, unwilling to give up their prize without a fight. It became a tug-of-war with Mary Ann squealing and yelping while Gilligan hauled on her hips, his grip stronger than she would ever have expected. At the same time she knew that this wasn't the kind of situation that anyone would believe had happened innocently, and she knew exactly what it looked like as she felt her backside banging against his hips over and over again.
Gilligan continued to pull, and eventually Mary Ann felt the brambles start to break away, heard them snap and tear and begin to let go of her. She reached up with her fingers to untangle her hair, leaving great long strands of it tied around the grasping roots and vines that wanted to keep her in their deadly grip forever. All the while Gilligan kept pulling and pulling, until with a loud war cry and one last mighty heave Mary Ann finally came flying out of the thicket. The two of them went staggering backwards with Gilligan still holding onto her waist until he finally fell over and landed squarely on his backside with Mary Ann clutched in his arms.
"I did it!" he yelled triumphantly. "I got you out! I got you out!"
It was right then that Mary Ann realised that not only had she left some of her hair behind, she had also lost her blouse. There it was, still tangled in the thicket, having been pulled right off over her head as Gilligan hauled her out. Embarrassed, she crossed her arms tightly over her chest. Luckily she had chosen to wear her pretty pink brassiere that morning, otherwise she would now be sitting there almost completely naked, in Gilligan's lap. Which was where she suddenly realised she was sitting.
"I should go get my blouse," she said in a tiny voice.
Gilligan said nothing. He had fallen silent again. There was no sound coming from him save for some rather heavy breathing.
"And I...shouldn't really be sitting where I'm sitting, either." She turned to look at his face, to see what expression, if any, he was wearing.
"I got you out," he said, his voice a low murmur. He looked dazed.
"Yes, Gilligan, you did, and thank you. You're my knight in shining armour."
His eyes flickered over her bare skin, tracing the marks made by the brambles. "Are you okay, Mary Ann?" he asked, his breath warming her shoulder. "You sure have a lot of cuts and scratches."
"I think so. I'm sure the Professor will have something I can put on them."
"Then we should go back to the huts," he said. "And get you cleaned up."
"We should go back," Mary Ann agreed. "But first, there's something I want to do."
Gently, so as not to scare him, she tilted her head and pressed her lips against his, fully expecting him to pull his head away and leap up, sending her sprawling to the ground. But he didn't. He barely moved, he didn't make a sound. He let her kiss him, and for one brief, beautiful moment, she felt him kiss her back.
When it ended, Gilligan blinked as though he'd come out of a hypnotic trance.
"That was nice," he uttered.
"Nice?" Mary Ann smiled. "Is that all?"
"It was very nice," he corrected, smiling back at her.
"This isn't the first time you've saved me, Gilligan," Mary Ann said, coyly.
"I know."
"And it isn't the first time we've ended up in an embarrassing situation."
"I know that, too."
"You remember the tree?" Mary Ann said shyly.
"How could I forget?" Gilligan replied, enigmatically.
She lowered her gaze. "I haven't forgotten, either."
Neither of them said anything for a few more moments, but this time the silence was anything but awkward. Despite being dishevelled and half-naked, Mary Ann felt totally at ease. Gilligan's arms were around her, which was something she had always wanted. And it felt wonderful. It felt warm and safe and it felt like where she was meant to be.
Sitting in his lap, however, was a whole different ball game. He hadn't mentioned it, and she hadn't mentioned it, but there was definitely something in Gilligan's pocket, and she didn't think it was a flashlight.
"We really should get back to the huts," she whispered.
"I guess so," he said, almost reluctantly.
She stroked her fingertips gently over his cheek then climbed off him at last. Together they got to their feet. Gilligan went over to the thicket and untangled her blouse and brought it back for her, averting his eyes while she slipped it on over her head and brushed the twigs and leaves away.
"Do I look a mess?" she asked.
"A little bit," he replied.
"Thanks for the confidence boost."
"You asked."
"You didn't have to be quite so honest."
"You look like you fell out of a tree," Gilligan said, and when she looked up sharply she saw that he was grinning.
They began the journey back to camp. Mary Ann's arms and legs and shoulders began to sting where they'd been scratched. Halfway down the path she felt her knees go weak and she clutched Gilligan's arm for support.
"You're not okay, Mary Ann," he said, holding on to her.
"I am. It's just the heat and...well, that was quite an ordeal I went through. I was there for a while before you found me, with those stupid brambles in my hair. I guess the blood went to my head."
"Poor Mary Ann. Want me to carry you?"
Mary Ann nodded. "That would be nice."
Gilligan crouched down and hooked his arm behind her knees while she held fast around his neck. Then he swept her off her feet, lifting her effortlessly into the air. "I'm getting pretty good at this," he beamed.
"You are," she agreed. "Just don't drop me."
"I won't."
Gilligan marched down the path with Mary Ann in his arms, grinning for all he was worth. She prompted him into song, and soon they were both singing together, both wildly and unashamedly out of tune.
"I ask to be, or not to be, a rogue or peasant slave is what you see. A boy who loved his mother's knee..."
With her arms wound tightly around his neck, Mary Ann laughed as he bounced her along. So what if she'd only found a lump of glass? Maybe it had been a magic lump of glass, because at least one of her wishes had come true today. Gilligan's arms were around her, and she knew that for at least as long as it took to carry her back to camp, he wasn't ever going to let her go.
"...and so I ask to be or not to be!"