TITLE: Spring Fever

AUTHOR/PSEUDONYM: iolanthe

FANDOM: Lost in Space (TV series)

PAIRING: Dr. Smith/female Robinsons

RATING: PG, I suppose

STATUS: Complete.

ARCHIVE: Sure, why not?

SERIES: No.

DISCLAIMER: New Line Cinema and/or Space Productions own(s) all of these characters, not I. I'm just playing with 'em, and making no money off 'em, so there's no need to sic the litigators on me.

SUMMARY: A harmless bit of fluff with no redeeming social value. Blame it on the weather!

WARNINGS: Sexual situations; some underage flirting. But please don't take anything about this story too seriously.

by Iolanthe

Dr. Zachary Smith set down his fork and leaned back in his chair with a contented sigh. "Ah, dear lady," he said, addressing the matriarch of the Robinson family, "your culinary talents undoubtedly surpass those of Le Cordon Bleu's finest!"

Maureen Robinson smiled, genuinely pleased but also not fooled. "Why, thank you, Doctor Smith, but I'm afraid that even shameless flattery won't get you a third helping. We'll be needing those leftovers for tomorrow's lunch."

Smith affected a wounded expression. "You misinterpret me, madam! The compliment was meant sincerely." Undeterred, he turned hopefully to the younger Robinson daughter. "Penny, dear, are you going to finish that?"

Penny grinned and rolled her eyes at her sister Judy across the table. "Don't worry, Doctor Smith," she assured him, "if there's any left over, you'll be the first to know."

The three women, long accustomed to the doctor's dinner table tactics, shared a chuckle as he huffed indignantly.

Despite his display of affront, however, Smith didn't really mind being the source of his shipmates' amusement and the focus of their attention. In fact, it often made him feel a bit closer to them -- more a part of the family -- when his dramatics made them laugh.

Being the center of attention was nearly effortless for Smith when the other male members of the Robinson party were absent from their planetbound spaceship, as was currently the case. That morning, Professor Robinson, Major West, young Will, and the Robot had taken the chariot out to survey and perform maintenance on their widely dispersed network of weather and communications stations, and Smith anticipated at least two carefree "vacation" days of reveling in idleness and chatting with the lovely ladies without the professor or the major constantly lurking over his shoulder.

His idyllic musings were interrupted by a cold pinprick sensation on the back of his neck. Glancing skyward to determine the source, he was astonished to see...

"Oh, look! It's _snowing_!" Judy exclaimed, pointing at the tiny white flakes that had suddenly filled the air around them. The unusual sight brought a wide smile to her face.

"Snowing, indeed," Smith scoffed. "The climatic conditions on this planet make that sort of precipitation virtually impossible, particularly at this time of year." Recent daytime temperatures had hovered around a springlike 70 degrees Fahrenheit, and it rarely dropped below 50 degrees, even at night.

"But it _is_ snowing!" said Penny excitedly. "Don't you believe your own eyes?" Tipping her head back, she stuck out her tongue to capture some of the wet crystals.

Smith had to admit that the evidence was persuasive. In spite of the still-balmy atmospheric temperature, the ground was rapidly being covered under a blanket of white. He ran his fingers through his greying hair, scattering a small flurry of snowflakes that had already collected there. "Impossible!" he muttered. "This should not be happening."

Disconcerted, he rose from the table. "Ladies, if you will please excuse me, I must return to the shelter of the ship at once. I'm quite susceptible to cold, you know."

"Of course, Doctor Smith," Maureen replied with an indulgent smile as she began to gather up the dinner dishes.

"May we stay out here for a while, Mother?" asked Penny, on behalf of herself and her sister.

"It should be all right, dear. But promise me you'll put on your parkas if it gets too cold."

And so it came to pass that the Robinson girls and their mother spent a temperate evening frolicking in steadily deepening snow -- making snow angels, waging snowball fights, and even sticking together a passable snowman. For a time, Smith watched them through the viewport, his innate suspicion warring with a wistful longing to join them in their innocent fun. But caution won out, and by the time the ladies called it a night, the doctor had already retired to the comforting solace of his bed.

* * * *

Judy woke up hot.

But she didn't feel ill. In fact, she felt quite refreshed and alert, as though all of her senses were at full attention. A devilish grin tugged at the corners of her mouth as she entertained a passing fantasy involving what she might do if Don West were in her bed at that very moment -- if _he_ were the cause of the fevered flush warming her entire body. 'A shame he's off with Dad and Will right now,' she sighed to herself, missing her absent lover with an almost physical ache.

Stretching langorously, Judy retrieved her silver comforter from the floor where she'd kicked it during the night. She wondered if perhaps Dr. Smith had fiddled with the ship's environmental controls as a preemptive strike against the chilly weather that he'd (incorrectly) predicted would accompany the unseasonable snowfall.

Suddenly hungry, she dressed and headed for the galley.

She found Dr. Smith already seated at the table, distraction and worry etched in every line of his face. He had both hands wrapped around a steaming hot cup of coffee.

"Good morning! You're certainly up earlier than usual," Judy chirped, sitting down in the chair next to his. For some reason, her mood, already cheerful, had elevated another notch at the sight of him.

"I'm afraid I did not sleep very well," he reported wearily. "My instincts are telling me that something is not quite right, but I cannot seem to pinpoint it."

While he was talking, Judy found herself studying the doctor's face intently, as though she had never really appreciated its intricacies before. Her gaze then moved to his elegant, long-fingered hands, watching closely as he raised the coffee cup to his lips. From nowhere, the notion struck her that she had never seen anything so graceful, so sensual, so erotic...

'Wait a minute,' she thought, 'what the heck am I saying?' She blinked and shook her head quickly, trying to clear her mind of whatever fog had settled over it.

"Are you all right, my dear?" Smith asked, having noted her distress.

His pleasant baritone resonated in Judy's ears like melodious church bells, causing her breath to catch in her throat. "I...I'm fine, really," she stammered, though she knew it was a total lie. She was in fact battling an inexplicably powerful impulse to launch herself at Smith, strip the clothes from his stocky, middle-aged frame, and ravish him right there on the table.

Some distant part of her felt slightly queasy at the thought, but the wave of elemental lust surging through her body was nearly overwhelming.

"Are you quite certain? You don't look well." He touched her flushed cheek lightly with the back of one hand...and instantly regretted it.

That innocent contact shattered whatever self-control Judy had left. She locked her fingers around his wrist and pulled him forcibly toward her, until they were nose to nose.

"What are y...?" Smith yelped, but his protest was cut short when her lips claimed his, searingly hot and demanding. Caught off guard, he couldn't help responding to the unsolicited intimacy at first, momentarily allowing Judy to take all manner of indecent liberties with his person.

But his better judgment eventually prevailed and he pulled away, panting. "Wha-what is the meaning of this?" he sputtered, holding the blonde seductress at bay with no small effort.

"I don't know," she gasped, looking as confused as he felt. "I just...had to touch you! Please, I..."

"Have you taken leave of your senses, my dear?" he asked more gently, arching an eyebrow in disbelief. "You've shown no inclination toward me in the past. And what of Major West?"

Judy's face clouded over at the mention of her handsome young pilot. 'What's the _matter_ with me?' she berated herself. 'Throwing myself at another man -- and Don never even crossed my mind!'

Hastily, she rose and backed away a few steps, hoping that some physical distance between herself and the doctor might calm the irresistible compulsion. "Please...please forgive me, Doctor Smith," she apologized with all due sincerity, trying not to look directly at him. "I don't know what came over me!"

Then, only through a tremendous act of will, she turned and fled the galley for the safety of her cabin.

* * * *

Lost in thought, Smith stood alone on the Jupiter 2's flight deck, gazing out at the peaceful white vista of snow outside the ship. The view was strangely calming, and his overwrought nerves were finally beginning to settle after his bizarre tryst with Judy Robinson.

He had concluded that she'd simply been having a laugh at his expense -- playing a juvenile prank out of capriciousness or boredom or who knows what. What other reason could there be for the lovely young woman -- by all indications quite content in her relationship with that insufferable irritant West -- to take such an abrupt interest in him?

But although the rational part of him realized that she could not have been serious, her attentions had sparked something pathetically resembling hope within his heart, and it hurt to have to remind himself that there could never really be anything between them. Smith sighed. In so many respects, he was the odd man out among the Robinson party -- fated to remain alone as long as they were wandering out in space.

Someone's slender arms suddenly encircled Smith's waist from behind, interrupting his self-pitying wallow, and an unmistakably feminine form pressed up against his back. Before he could do more than gasp, a dainty hand had slipped lightning-quick down the front of his trousers.

Recovering his wits, he seized his surprise assailant by the wrists and twisted around to face her. "_Really,_ Judy, I thought we'd..."

His jaw dropped in shock when he confronted not Judy, but a raven-haired Lolita with undisguised lust in her heavy-lidded eyes and the sultriest pout he'd ever seen on a girl that young.

"Penny!? Good heavens, child, have you gone mad?"

"Oh, please don't be angry, Doctor Smith," she breathed in smoky tones. "Just let me touch you. I _need_ to..."

Smith scowled darkly at the teenage temptress. "Now look here -- whatever little game you and your sister are playing with me, it has gone far enough! This sort of teasing is most inappropriate, and it's really rather cruel, wouldn't you say?"

Penny shook her head in earnest as tears of frustration sprang to the corners of her eyes. "But...but I'm not playing a game! I can't explain why, but when I saw you standing there, I just couldn't stop myself!"

Now thoroughly baffled, he released his hold on her wrists. "Are you feeling all right, my dear?" he asked in concern. "Your face is flushed." He placed a cool hand on her forehead and she leaned into it, relishing the contact. "And you appear to be running a temperature."

When she went for his belt buckle, Smith was forced to gently restrain her again. "Perhaps you ought to be in bed, if you're ill. Let me take you back to your room."

"Oh, yes," she eagerly agreed, flashing him a look more suited to a vamping chorus girl than to the sweet, innocent Penny Robinson that he knew.

Unnerved, he escorted Penny to the lower deck, fending off her roving hands at every step, and secured her in her cabin. A sigh of relief escaped him when the outer lock engaged.

Smith was at a loss to explain his female shipmates' unusual behavior, but he was now fairly certain it was no mere prank. Something was definitely amiss! Perhaps Mrs. Robinson would have some insight...

It occurred to him that he had not yet seen Mrs. Robinson that morning, and a cold shiver of dread crept down his spine.

Steeling himself for whatever he might encounter, he approached her cabin and knocked. A long moment later, the partition eased open and Maureen poked her head out, wearing a self-satisfied grin and, from what Smith could observe, not much else.

It was breathtakingly obvious that she had not been in there playing tiddlywinks all morning.

"Well, _hello,_ Doctor," she purred, flicking back a loose lock of auburn hair. "How nice of you to make a 'house call' just when I was in the mood for some company!"

Smith's heart sank to have his worst fears confirmed. Attempting to keep his gaze carefully fixed above Maureen's lovely neck, he tried to reason with her. "Please, madam, you must make an effort to resist these unnatural impulses. We have to find out what's causing..."

"Why don't you come in and tell me all about it?" suggested Maureen, latching onto his hand and dragging him inside in one swift motion. Before he'd quite registered what was happening, she had him supine on the bed, pinned between her naked, well-toned thighs. He made a quick mental note never again to underestimate the dear lady's strength.

"Mrs. Robinson...," he began, as she hovered above him, practically licking her lips in anticipation.

"Call me Maureeeen," she whispered huskily, swooping down to favor his earlobe with a playful nip.

"_Maureen,_ remember that you are a happily married woman!" he pleaded, hoping that a reference to her husband might reach her as mention of West's name had reached Judy.

But Maureen's focus was elsewhere at the moment. She pulled Smith's tunic free of his trousers and slipped her hands underneath the soft fabric to caress his chest. He gasped as the feverish heat radiating from her fingertips left fiery trails on his bare skin.

Things were not going well at all!

His mind raced, trying to come up with some way to extricate himself that would leave everyone's virtue intact. Unfortunately, however, his body operated under no such moral compunctions, and being trapped under Maureen's wriggling hips was having distressing but predictable physical effects upon him.

This could hardly escape her notice, of course, and a wicked smile spread across her face. "Perhaps the gentleman doth protest too much?" she teased.

"Dear lady," he cried in desperation, "Please stop, I implore you! Professor Robinson would have my head on a pike for this!"

At last, Smith thought he saw the faintest flicker of comprehension in her eyes, and he pressed home the point. "Yes, your dearly beloved husband! Would you betray your vows for a few moments of thoughtless pleasure?"

Maureen blinked several times, realization finally dawning. "John? Oh...oh, my."

"You don't _really_ wish to proceed, do you?" he prompted gently.

That did it. With a stricken expression, she sprang from the bed and reached for her robe. Inexpressibly relieved, Smith averted his eyes while she dressed, then rolled onto his side to sit up.

Maureen was staring at him, conflicting emotions playing rapidly across her delicate features. For several tense moments it appeared to Smith that she might try to jump him again, but her self-control proved to be formidable.

She attempted a stammered apology. "Oh, Doctor Smith, I'm...I don't...I'm so..."

He held up a hand, adjusting his rumpled clothing with the other. "Quite unnecessary -- clearly you are not at fault. Some outside influence has been affecting you and your dear daughters; however, I have yet to determine the source."

"Penny and Judy?" she whispered, reluctant to accept the full implications of that concept.

"You needn't worry, dear lady," he hastened to assure her. "They were no more successful in their...ah...efforts than you were."

She managed a smile. "I do appreciate your forbearance, Doctor Smith. We probably haven't made it easy for you."

'The understatement of the century,' thought Smith. A married woman, a young lady practically engaged, and a minor child -- he briefly contemplated how the morning might have gone if circumstances had been a bit different. "Indeed. In any event, how shall we proceed in determining the cause of this affliction?"

Maureen sat down in a nearby chair and considered the problem, though her brain still labored under a thick haze of amorous impulses. Each time she glanced at the man sitting on her bed, she had to concentrate all of her energies on simply remaining where she was. 'Don't look, don't touch, think of John,' she reminded herself, mantra-like.

The distraction was not conducive to deductive reasoning, but she tossed out the first question that came to mind. "Why are you the only one who seems to be immune?"

Smith pondered that for a moment. "It may be a gender-specific malady. Or perhaps you three were exposed to something that I..." He broke off abruptly, straightening his spine as the obvious answer hit him like a slap across the face.

"The snow!" he blurted. "You ladies were outside in it all evening, but I was not!" He could have kicked himself for not thinking of it earlier, considering how suspicious he had been about the odd precipitation.

"We'd better take a closer look at some of that snow," said Maureen, pleased to have something concrete to work with. "I'll go get a sample so we can analyze..."

"If our theory is correct, madam," Smith interposed, "it might be better for you to avoid further exposure. Permit me to retrieve the sample."

She nodded. "Yes, good thinking. I'll meet you in the lab in a few minutes."

* * * *

Maureen, now demurely dressed, peered through a microscope at one of the enigmatic snowflakes. Its structure was beautiful -- a delicately complex crystalline lattice -- but its fragile appearance belied an astonishing durability. Even in the warmth of the ship's lab, the substance resisted melting.

"Have you learned anything yet, Mother?" asked Judy, sitting nearby. Penny was also present, but Dr. Smith had stationed himself at a safe distance -- outside the confines of the lab but still within earshot -- to avoid being a distraction.

"Well, this is certainly no ordinary snow," Maureen reported. "The preliminary chemical analysis indicates that something in these crystals enhances female receptiveness to male pheromones. It basically acts like a powerful aphrodisiac."

"So we're not sick?" Penny smiled, relieved.

"No, dear. I'm hoping that if we stay inside until the snow melts, the effects will eventually wear off."

Still concerned, Judy asked, "But what do we do in the meantime?"

"Since we know what we're dealing with now, it should be easier to control the impulses. But it won't be effortless. We'll have to keep ourselves isolated from...temptation as much as possible."

"There is no need for euphemism, dear lady," Smith interjected from the next room, voice tinged with melancholy. "We're all aware that by 'temptation' you mean me."

"I'm sorry, Doctor Smith," she replied regretfully. "But it's the best way to keep the situation under control. And even that won't be foolproof -- you'll still be affecting us no matter where you are on the ship."

"I quite understand," he sighed.

Maureen felt bad for him. Despite his sometimes off-putting manner, Smith was at heart a profoundly social creature, and the Robinsons had found that ostracism by those he considered his friends was a punishment often more painful for the doctor than a physical beating.

And this time -- for once -- he hadn't even done anything wrong.

* * * *

When the chariot rolled up late the following night, Smith was half-dozing in a chair outside the Jupiter 2, a large shovel laid across his lap and a nearly empty bag of calcium chloride deicing pellets on the table in front of him. The snowfall was now almost a memory thanks to his efforts. Only a couple of drifts remained, off to one side. The exertion of shoveling snow had taken its toll on his delicate back, but Smith was forced to admit that the work had helped keep him from dwelling too deeply on his loneliness.

Professor Robinson and Major West were the first to alight from the all-terrain vehicle. Smith rose to greet his returning shipmates, inordinately pleased at the prospect of once again enjoying human companionship. "Ah, welcome home, stalwart travelers!" he said with a sincere smile. "So wonderful to see you all again. Even you, my dear Major West."

John and Don exchanged glances. In their eyes, any display of heartfelt good will from Smith was instantly suspect -- and doubly so when directed toward Don West.

"The ladies will be equally pleased to see you," Smith continued. "In fact, you can be assured of a very warm welcome indeed. Why don't you two go on inside, while William and I unload the chariot?"

"You're _volunteering_? Uh...did anything unusual happen here while we were gone, Smith?" asked Don, raising a cynical eyebrow. "Or have you just been hitting the liquor cabinet again?"

With exaggerated disdain, Smith retorted, "_Spare_ me your insolent inanities, Major. Is it so difficult to believe that I might be genuinely pleased to see you all?"

"Actually, yes," Don grinned. The twinkle in the doctor's eye had not gone unnoticed.

"Bah! Then I must immediately tender my resignation as the official Jupiter 2 welcoming committee."

"We're happy to see you, too, Doctor Smith," said John, worried that the two might stand there and bicker all night. Their "double act" was frequently entertaining, but the hour was late and he was tired.

The hint was taken, and John followed Don up the ramp into the ship, leaving Smith to unpack the chariot with Will and the Robot.

Watching them go, Smith permitted himself a quick smile as he recalled the good-sized snowball that he'd had the foresight to squirrel away in the deepest recesses of the freezer unit. After all, one could never tell when circumstances might change, and it never hurt to be prepared for the future!

-- END --