A/N: So I wrote a crackfic called 'Glorious Mud' in which Gilligan fell into a mud puddle while trying to help Mary Ann get out. This story is kind of along those lines, but this time he's trying to help her out of a tree. This could turn into some sort of theme, where the island itself is playing with them and keeps putting them into these compromising situations!

Shout-out to JWood201 who also thinks it's a good idea- and to everyone who reads and enjoys and reviews- thank you. xx

Rated T for mild shenanigans.

The Girl Who Fell Out Of A Tree

Gilligan enjoyed his solitary rambles through the jungle. He had always enjoyed traipsing through the woods as a kid, bringing home things to add to his collections. Different shaped leaves, which he'd then place under thin paper and shade over with a pencil. Empty snail shells, which he'd wash and disinfect and keep on his window ledge along with his seashell collection from the beach. Once he'd even brought home a bunch of mushrooms he'd found, but his mom made him throw them out and then put him in the bath and scrubbed him top to toe because she'd said they weren't mushrooms they were toadstools, and then he'd asked her why toads needed tools, did they build their own houses? And that had made his mom laugh and tell him he was silly but she loved him.

He was always finding things on the island that he knew his mom would love. He'd tuck a pebble or an empty nut shell into his pocket and he would imagine telling her the empty nut shell was really a boat for ants and she'd believe him because that's exactly what it looked like when you turned it upside down, a boat for ants.

Gilligan was skipping along with his eyes on the ground, engrossed in his thoughts and his search for more collectibles when he heard a distinctly plaintive wailing from nearby. He stopped abruptly and raised his head, turning it this way and that like a jungle creature scenting the wind.

Was there an animal in trouble?

"Help! Gilligan! Help, oh, please help!"

Well, if it was an animal in trouble, it was one that knew his name!

"Gilligan, help me! Gilligan!"

Gilligan's mouth fell open. That was no animal, that was Mary Ann! It was Mary Ann in trouble and calling for his help! But where was she? He scanned his surroundings again, but he couldn't see her anywhere.

"Mary Ann? Is that you?" He lifted his hat and scratched his head, puzzled.

"Of course it's me, Gilligan! Up here!"

Gilligan looked up and around, shading his eyes against the glare of the sun. And finally he saw her, perched in the branches of a nearby tree, peering out at him through the surrounding leaves.

"What are you doing up there?" he asked, his voice rising in disbelief.

"I was climbing the tree and I got stuck," Mary Ann replied, staring down at him in dismay. She was sitting in the fork of a V, swinging her legs helplessly.

Gilligan ambled over, never taking his eyes off her. "Why were you climbing the tree?"

"Because I used to climb trees when I was a little girl and I thought it would be fun to do it again. This looked like a good climbing tree and there were plenty of branches to hold onto...well, there were." Mary Ann pointed down to the ground where three snapped off branches lay on top of each other. "Either I'm heavier than I thought or this really wasn't a good climbing tree at all."

"Don't you know anything about trees?" Gilligan said, coming closer.

"Do I look like the Professor?" Mary Ann replied, a little impatiently.

Gilligan gazed up at her bare legs, the perky little red shoes swinging back and forth, her tiny blue denim shorts, her cut-off blouse which showed her tanned midriff, her shapely arms which were clinging desperately to the branches which formed the V in which she sat. His eyes took everything in, and his brain finally came to the most obvious conclusion.

"No, you sure don't look like the Professor," he agreed.

"Well? Are you going to help me down or are you just going to stand there?" Mary Ann tried to sound stern, but Gilligan looked so funny gawking up at her like that.

Gilligan snapped back to attention immediately. "Of course, Mary Ann, I'll get you down, don't you worry about a thing."

He stood at the base of the tree with his arms folded, assessing the situation in what he hoped was his best serious manner. After a little while he felt Mary Ann's feet tip-tapping on the top of his head, playing with his hat. He looked up to see her grinning down at him.

"Mary Ann, this is a serious predicament that you're in. This is no time to be playing games!"

Mary Ann laughed. "'Predicament'? Now who's trying to sound like the Professor?"

She hooked the tip of her shoe under the brim of his hat and lifted it off his head. He muttered something she couldn't quite hear and swatted her ankle, but she could see even with his lowered head that he was smiling.

Gilligan looked at the ragged stumps where the branches had broken off. "When you broke the first branch off, why didn't you come straight down instead of going higher up?" he asked.

"I panicked," she replied.

"Well, you don't need to panic any more, Mary Ann," he said, puffing out his chest. "I'll save you."

"My hero," she said, gushingly.

Gilligan stretched his long arms up into the air. "Put your foot on that branch there, not too hard, just to bring yourself down a little."

Mary Ann eased her backside out of the V and reached down for the branch he indicated with her left foot.

"Oh, I don't know, Gilligan, I can barely reach it!"

"Just a couple of inches further, Mary Ann."

Mary Ann was now halfway out of the V, but still holding tightly onto it with her arms.

"I can't, Gilligan! I'll fall!"

"You won't fall, I'll catch you."

"And then you'll fall, too!"

"It doesn't matter if I fall, I've only got a little ways to go."

You couldn't fault Gilligan logic. Besides, Gilligan was always falling down, he was used to it. Mary Ann hardly ever fell down, and she knew that it hurt, especially with so much of her bare skin exposed to the elements.

Gilligan was as close to the tree as he could get. Mary Ann's bare legs flailed over his head as he tried to grab hold of her in as decent a manner as he could. Her left foot finally reached the lower branch, but only just.

"It's no use, Gilligan, I'll fall!"

"You won't fall, Mary Ann. Trust me."

Mary Ann suddenly felt her right arm slip and her purchase on the branches of the V loosened considerably.

"Gilligan! I can't hold on!" she cried, feeling the rough bark scratching along the soft skin of her inner forearms.

"It's okay, Mary Ann, I've got you!" Gilligan was almost hugging the tree now, directly underneath her, both arms stretched upwards to catch her if she fell.

Mary Ann felt the tip of her shoe slip off the lower branch at the same time as her right arm let go of the V. With a shriek she felt herself plummet. Instinctively she swung round and wrapped both arms tightly around the left fork of the V and dangled helplessly until her flailing legs found something they could latch onto.

That something was Gilligan.

Gilligan didn't even have time to think before both of Mary Ann's legs wrapped tightly around his head, twisting his neck sideways and squashing him against the tree. Without thinking, he grabbed hold of her thighs and tried to prise them apart but Mary Ann was stronger than she looked and she wasn't letting go any time soon. He struggled and uttered muffled oaths as she squirmed and continued to panic. She was now firmly attached to the tree by her arms, and Gilligan's head by her legs.

This was not the heroic rescue that Gilligan had envisaged. Not once in his imagined scenario did Mary Ann have her legs wrapped around his head like nutcrackers while she squealed like a rabbit in a trap and banged his head repeatedly against the tree.

"Mary Ann!" he mumbled, his face squashed between her thighs. "Mary Ann, I can't breathe!"

"Oh, Gilligan, don't let go, don't let go!"

"Me? I'm not the one with a grip like Iron Man!"

"If I let go, I'll fall!"

"If you don't let go, I'll suffocate!"

But Mary Ann's legs were locked tight and there was nothing Gilligan could do but try to keep his balance while she squirmed around and panicked. He was, after all, not exactly in a position to argue.

Gilligan had never had a woman's legs wrapped around his head before. But he knew one thing- this wasn't where his head was meant to be. There were certain areas of female anatomy that even he knew were very, very private, and right now one of those areas was wedged right up against his face. As well as making it hard for him to breathe, it was making it hard for him to think straight about anything. In fact, it was making him feel distinctly light-headed and well, strange, in a way he couldn't explain even to himself.

He tried again to prise her legs apart. It occurred to him that he probably shouldn't be grabbing her thighs quite so much, but he was a desperate man. His fingers groped and squeezed the flesh on either side of his head. His ears felt like they were on fire, trapped as they were in Mary Ann's death grip. He never knew her legs could be so strong!

"Mary Ann, I can't breathe!" he mumbled. Surely she could tell he was in trouble down here?

Mary Ann held fast to the V, but she had also become aware of the position they were both in. Shame and embarrassment made her cheeks burn, but Gilligan's muffled cries and the resulting vibrations against her intimate areas were making her feel decidedly dizzy. If she let go now, she would most certainly fall, but if she stayed where she was, even Gilligan would realise eventually that she had started responding physically to his struggles.

"Gilligan, I'm scared!" she confessed. "Promise you won't fall if I let go!"

"I promise!" he garbled, except he wasn't sure he could stay upright much longer with Mary Ann's vise like grip wedging him against the tree while her hot thighs burned his face and his legs slowly buckled.

"All right, Gilligan, I'm letting go," she said, carefully unwinding one arm from the V.

"Slowly, Mary Ann!"

"I know, Gilligan, I'm trying!"

Slowly, Mary Ann disengaged her bruised and scratched arms from the tree. She put one hand on Gilligan's head to steady herself, dislodging his hat in the process. In doing so, her fingers wound gently through his hair, and for one brief moment, with Mary Ann's fingers in his hair and her intimate area wedged up against his face, Gilligan thought he had died and gone to heaven where a choir of angels heralded his arrival at the Pearly Gates.

And he still didn't quite know why.

In the next second he found himself crashing back to reality and staggering backwards with a squawk as Mary Ann let go of the tree and grabbed the top of his head with both arms. For several moments Gilligan tried valiantly to stay upright with the full weight of Mary Ann bearing down on his neck and shoulders, staggering this way and that, his feet smacking down hard in the dirt, his hands grasping at Mary Ann's legs, arms, blouse, shoulders, anything to help him regain his balance. But it was no use. He felt the deck sliding out from underneath him and before he knew it they were falling, with Mary Ann astride his head and the rest of the world a swirling kaleidoscope of colours spinning in the small field of vision that was left to him.

When the dust finally settled and the birds had stopped tweeting, Gilligan slowly opened his eyes to find that he had landed on a patch of soft grass where he now lay flat on his back in a star shape, with Mary Ann still sitting astride his face.

The angels were singing again, only this time they seemed an awful lot closer. And it was getting dark...

"Gilligan, Gilligan! Are you all right?"

That was a strange thing for angels to be singing.

"Gilligan!"

He felt a hand on his forehead, stroking his hair, then fingers lightly slapping his cheeks.

"Gilligan! Oh, Gilligan, please say something. Are you all right?"

Of course, it wasn't the angels. It was better than the angels. It was Mary Ann, sweet, wonderful Mary Ann. She was hovering over him, blocking out the sunlight. Her thick, lustrous pigtails hung close to his face- in fact, his whole face was buried in Mary Ann's sweetness. Her legs, her arms, her hair, her caramel skin which smelled of almond butter, and she was looking tenderly down at him with a beautiful expression of genuine concern.

He blinked once or twice and then he grinned up at her, as much as he could grin with his face all squashed between her legs. "M'fine, Mary Ann," he squeaked.

The relief in Mary Ann's voice came flooding out like water breaking through a dam. "Oh, Gilligan! I'm so happy you're okay! I'll never do anything silly like that again!"

With that, she eased her legs away from his face at last, only to bend down and plant her lips against his forehead, then his cheeks, his nose, his chin, even briefly, his lips.

And he didn't struggle, not once. He lay there and let Mary Ann's kisses fall on him like soft summer rain, gazing up into her gentle brown eyes, wondering what he'd done to deserve all this when he had only been out for a walk.

Maybe he'd banged his head without realising.

"Thank you for saving me, Gilligan," Mary Ann whispered, holding his face gently in both hands.

"It's okay, Mary Ann," Gilligan squeaked, staring up at her in helpless wonder.

They stayed that way for several moments, gazing into each other's eyes, while Gilligan pondered whether it were actually possible for time to stand still.

Eventually Mary Ann climbed off him and straightened herself up. "I'm so sorry, Gilligan, I won't do anything like that ever again." She smiled down at him as he lay there in the grass.

"It's okay, Mary Ann," said Gilligan, aware that he was still squeaking.

"I'm also sorry about..." she stopped, feeling a flush of embarrassment rise up her neck. "You know. Everything."

"It's okay, Mary Ann," he repeated in the same tiny voice.

"Well, I guess I really ought to be getting back to camp." Mary Ann began making awkward conversation while smoothing down her blouse and feeling a strange urge to rub her inner thighs where they still tingled. "I'll need to start preparing lunch. Skipper will be sitting there with his knife and fork in his hands, waiting."

"It's okay, Mary Ann."

"Gilligan?" She looked down at him. "Are you even listening to me?"

Gilligan blinked and lay there, grinning up into the middle distance.

"Oh, dear," said Mary Ann. "I hope you're not concussed."

"What's concussed?"

She sighed and put her hands on her hips. "All right, Gilligan. Come on now. If you're well enough to ask questions, you're well enough to get up."

Mary Ann dusted herself off one last time and then turned and started walking away, wishing her legs would stop tingling with every step, the flesh of her inner thighs still imprinted with the memory of Gilligan's face wedged up against them. It had been a very awkward situation for both of them, but at the same time, it had had some quite unexpected results, not all of them unpleasant.

Halfway down the path, Mary Ann stopped and turned around, hoping to find Gilligan on his feet and following. But there he was, still flat on his back, still wearing that faraway expression, still grinning up at nothing.

"Oh, Gilligan." She sighed and shook her head, and trotted back to fetch him.

At lunch, Gilligan was still in a world of his own. Several times the Skipper had to wave his hand in front of the first mate's face to snap him back to life.

"I don't understand it, what's wrong with you, little buddy?"

"It's okay, Mary Ann," Gilligan replied, absently putting a forkful of food down the front of his shirt instead of in his mouth.

Gilligan walked around in a trance for the rest of that day, and even when dinner time came around he sat there with his chin in his hand, grinning to himself and gazing out over the hut roofs.

"Maybe he has sunstroke," Ginger said.

"Maybe he's just being Gilligan," Mary Ann said quickly, hoping and praying that Gilligan wouldn't pick that moment to decide to blurt out what had happened in the jungle that day.

"Well, whatever's wrong with him, I must say the silence is very welcome," the Skipper joked.

"I'm fine, Skipper," Gilligan said, dreamily. "Don't worry about me."

The days passed, Gilligan returned to normal, and Mary Ann put the incident to the back of her mind, marking it down as a one-off experience, one that would never be repeated, no matter how enjoyable certain aspects of it had proven to be. Even though there were moments when she would still get a sudden electric jolt through her intimate regions when she moved in a certain way or thought about it too hard.

It was just something that happened and would never be referred to again.

On the fourth day, Mary Ann found herself with a free afternoon. The huts were swept, the dishes were washed and the laundry was hanging out to dry. Ginger was taking a nap to preserve her beauty, the Howells were snoozing in their sun loungers, the Professor had his nose buried in a book and the Skipper had gone fishing in the lagoon. Mary Ann looked out of the hut window and saw Gilligan wandering around aimlessly. Picking up her butterfly net, she left the hut and skipped across the clearing to join her friend.

"Hi, Gilligan," she said excitedly. "I'm finished with my chores for the day. How would you like to go butterfly hunting with me?"

Gilligan turned to face her and the look that flashed briefly in his eyes sent an unexpected wild tingle straight down to her thighs and lit a small fire in the pit of her stomach. She stood nervously rooted to the spot, her fingers grasping the butterfly net tightly in case she dropped it. She had never seen such a naughty look on Gilligan's face before!

"I've been thinking, Mary Ann," he said innocently, never taking his eyes away from her face. "There's this real swell tree I know- it's just perfect for climbing."