A/N: Thanks JWood201 for all the email sessions and fantastic reviews which have kept me going, and Lilly, LucyFox835 and Maudlin Mush, and everyone else who's keeping up with this story in this hectic Christmas week. It looks like there'll be nine chapters in all, and I promise speedy updates.
Chapter Five
Mrs. Howell immediately set to work. With her sleepy husband in tow she tied a sprig on every bush, every tree, and in every single hut doorway. Everywhere the castaways looked, ribbons fluttered gaily in the breeze- blue ribbons, pink ribbons, yellow, red and green ribbons; satin bows, silk threads and strips of patterned fabric. Somehow, in the depths of the night, Mrs. Howell had come up with the paraphernalia to make enough mistletoe for a small country. She dashed from tree to tree, from hut to hut, encouraging Mr. Howell to 'get into the spirit' and hang as much mistletoe as he could. Mr. Howell, still in his pajamas, mumbled and muttered, but goodnaturedly went along with her.
Mary Ann looked up at the overhanging branch. It was too high for her to reach. She looked around for Ginger. The movie star had changed into her most slinky gown and was making goo-goo eyes at the Professor, rolling one bare shoulder at him as she posed beneath a fluttering ribbon. Well, that didn't take long, she thought to herself, then jumped, startled, as someone coughed behind her.
It was Gilligan. Clutching what now looked like a half-naked twig with about seven leaves still attached to it. "Do you want some help?" he asked, shyly.
Mary Ann nodded gratefully. Gilligan reached up and grabbed the branch, pulling it down so that she could attach her little sprig of seaweed. Then she held the branch so that he could attach his. When she let go of the branch it bounced up and three more leaves fell off Gilligan's sprig. He watched sadly as they twirled to the ground. "You can't even tell what mine is any more," he sighed.
"I can," said Mary Ann, and leaned up to give him another kiss on the cheek. "See?"
Gilligan squirmed, hunching his shoulders. A bashful grin spread across his face. Mary Ann pointed upwards. "Now it's your turn," she said.
Gilligan's eyes darted nervously. He leaned down and delivered a quick, fleeting peck to the side of Mary Ann's face. It gave Mary Ann butterflies to feel him close to her for those few precious seconds. The smell of his hair tonic lingered in her nostrils as he stood back. She wanted to reach out and put her arms around him, but she didn't.
It wasn't long before the campsite was festooned with sprigs and Ginger seemed to be under every one of them. For Gilligan, it was like an assault course just getting from A to B. He ducked around corners and hid behind trees, at one point he even crawled under the table when he saw the movie star waltz by. The safest place was right in the center of the clearing where there was no mistletoe, just the blue sky above him. But he couldn't stay out there forever, even if he wanted to.
The Skipper had no such qualms. He spied Ginger lingering in the doorway to the Supply Hut and ambled over. "Hello, Ginger, if you don't mind, I just need to get something from..." he glanced up and pulled an expression of surprise. "Why, what have we here?" As though mistletoe dangling from the doorframe was the last thing he expected to see.
Ginger laughed and wrapped her arms fondly around his neck. "Have you been a good boy this year?" she teased.
"I've been a very good boy," he simpered. "Even when Gilligan's been driving me insane."
"Then here's your reward," Ginger cooed, and kissed him full on the lips.
The sound of bells exploded in Skipper's head. He staggered away, reeling from side to side as though he were on the deck of a boat, hardly able to put one foot in front of the other. Ginger laughed, knowing it wouldn't be long before he came back for more.
Mary Ann noticed the Skipper wandering around in a daze. "I think I can guess what happened," she giggled.
"I was ambushed," he replied, grinning idiotically. Then he looked up and found they were standing under yet another sprig of mistletoe.
"Then prepare to be ambushed again!" Mary Ann threw her arms as far around him as she could and pulled him down for another kiss on the lips.
The Skipper reeled backwards, punch-drunk. "Two strikes in one day!" he declared happily.
"And we haven't even had breakfast!" Mary Ann laughed.
"Look, Thurston," Mrs. Howell cried, delighted to see the kissing had already begun.
"Very good dear," her husband drawled, patting his wife on the shoulder. "I'm going back to the hut to slip into something more comfortable."
"Wonderful idea, darling." Mrs. Howell plucked at the sleeve of his pajamas. "After all, you're not exactly dressed for kissing."
"I meant something more comfortable, like my bed!" Mr. Howell declared, mooching off towards the huts.
Gilligan had somehow managed to traverse the clearing without encountering Ginger and was hiding in his hut. With his comic books and his bubblegum cards to keep him occupied, he figured he could happily spend the whole of Christmas there. He would only come out to take a shower and eat. He stared mournfully at the fluttering ribbon hanging from the door and resolved that even when he had to leave, he would climb in and out through the window.
Looking out across the campsite, he saw Mary Ann and the Professor under a sprig of mistletoe. The Professor said something and Mary Ann laughed. The Professor put his hands on Mary Ann's shoulders, leaned down and kissed her on the cheek. Mary Ann laughed again and then she kissed the Professor on the cheek.
Gilligan's stomach did a strange flip. He turned away from the window and climbed into his hammock, folding his arms tightly over his chest to try and stop the fluttery feeling. He knew that by avoiding Ginger he was also avoiding Mary Ann, but he didn't know what else to do.
Ginger sashayed across the clearing. "Mary Ann, tsk tsk tsk," she said, smokily. "Surely you don't intend to keep him all to yourself?"
Mary Ann stepped back. "He's all yours," she giggled as Ginger slid her arms around the Professor's neck and turned him towards her.
"Pucker up, Professor," Ginger murmured.
"But, Ginger- kissing on the mouth leads to-"
"I know. 'All sorts of bacterial transfer'. Well, you don't have to worry about that, Professor. My bacteria are very..." Ginger leaned closer, "...very..." her lips were practically on his, "...friendly." And then she was kissing him fully, her arms around his neck and her body pressed so close against his that he had no choice but to put his arms around her and hold her.
The Skipper, Mary Ann and Mrs. Howell watched the smooch go on and on and on. "Do you think he really did used to be a scuba diver?" the Skipper wondered aloud.
"I don't know,"Mrs. Howell replied, fingering her pearls, "but if I ever need mouth-to-mouth rescuscitation, I certainly know who to look for!"
The Skipper did a double-take. "Mrs. Howell!"
"Well." Mrs. Howell smacked him lightly on the arm. "I was young once too, you know!"
The Skipper laughed. "Mrs. Howell, if you weren't a married woman, I'd kiss you myself!"
"You heard what the Professor said," Mrs. Howell said mischievously, "a man and a woman who meet under a hanging of mistletoe are obliged to kiss. It doesn't say anything about being married!"
"In that case," the Skipper chuckled, "step this way if you would, Mrs. Howell!" And he led her over to some mistletoe and gallantly kissed her on the back of her hand.
As if by magic Mr. Howell appeared, fully dressed and wearing his straw boater. "Do you mind?" he said, tapping the Skipper on the shoulder. "Put down my wife, you briny old sea snake! Unless you want to feel the wrath of a Howell!"
The Skipper stepped away, tipping his hat, playing along. "My apologies, sir," he grinned.
"I should think so, too." Mr. Howell took his wife lovingly in his arms. "What have I told you about those rough sailor types?" he said, nuzzling their noses together. "Yale men, all of them!"
"Oh, Thurston, I knew you'd come to my rescue!" Mrs. Howell cried, and kissed her husband passionately.
The castaways stopped kissing long enough to make breakfast. Gilligan climbed through the hut window, drawn by the smell of hot pancakes. Everyone teased him when he sat down, asking him where he'd been. He shrugged, filling his plate with pancakes, hoping that if he kept his mouth full he wouldn't have to talk, let alone kiss.
"Cheer up, Gilligan." Ginger tickled his back with the tips of her nails. "If I kiss you I promise not to bite."
"I can vouch for that," said the Professor, causing much muffled laughter around the table.
"I'm not scared of kissing," Gilligan said, feigning nonchalance. "I just don't want to do it, that's all." He carried on stuffing pancake into his mouth, trying to ignore the scratching of Ginger's fingernails along his spine.
"I can change your mind," Ginger breathed, leaning closer.
"I can vouch for that, too," the Professor announced, raising his cup of mango juice.
Gilligan chewed his pancake into a mushy pulp and then turned to Ginger. "Wanna kiss me now?" he mumbled through the squidgy mess.
"Gilligan!" Ginger recoiled in disgust. She removed her hand from his back and smacked him on the arm. "Don't worry, I'll get you later."
"No you won't," Gilligan replied, slurping mango juice.
After breakfast, Gilligan disappeared again. Saddened by his absence, Mary Ann searched high and low, peering into every hut and even the shower stall. Perhaps he had gone off to do chores. She checked the laundry area- he wasn't there. She checked the vegetable garden- he wasn't there, either. Nor was he at the water pump. She went down to the lagoon- there was no sign of him. There was no sign of him anywhere. With a disappointed sigh she trudged home along the path, wishing that no-one had ever heard of mistletoe.
When she was halfway home, a sudden rustling noise came from somewhere off to her left. She pricked her ears, listening for animals. There was a crackle of twigs, and then-
"Psst! Psst, Mary Ann!"
Mary Ann turned. Gilligan was about ten yards away, hiding in the jungle and peering out at her from behind a clump of bushes. Without thinking, she put her hands on her hips and glared at him. "Gilligan! I've been looking all over for you! What are you doing?"
"I'm running away!" he replied with a grin. "From Ginger!"
"Running away?"
"Yeah. So I don't have to kiss her. Wanna come?"
"That's silly!" Mary Ann found herself saying.
"No it isn't. Come on, Mary Ann. It'll be fun. We can look for butterflies."
Mary Ann stared at him. He looked a sight, crouched down like a renegade soldier caught behind enemy lines. Waving her over with his skinny red-shirted arm. For a moment she was torn. She knew that if she didn't join him he'd go anyway, and probably be gone for hours. Meanwhile, Ginger would still be drifting around the campsite, kissing the Skipper and the Professor, not even minding that Gilligan wasn't there.
Mary Ann bit the inside of her lip, but it didn't take her long to decide. Feeling like a naughty child skipping school, she launched herself into the jungle and ran through the bushes towards Gilligan's outstretched hand.