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Cybertron had seasons, yes.
As the planet made its way through the galaxy, bereft of its own star, it went through periods of light and darkness. Meteorite belts and acid rains alike weren’t uncommon during either season.
It had never rained like this on Cybertron, or on any of the other organic planets that had been ‘gifted’ with the presence of Decepticon forces.
Megatron and Starscream huddled under a rocky overhang somewhere on Earth; Starscream couldn’t bring himself to care where.
Water poured down just outside, as though someone had turned on a solvent faucet but the solvent was filled with disgusting organic bitsl . Starscream couldn’t stop himself from shivering, twitchy bursts of movements that had his wings clattering and sent gusts of cold, damp air all across his plating.
“Stop fidgeting!” Megatron growled.
Starscream hissed at him, turbines whining like an angry turbofox. “You stop fidgeting!”
He edged a little closer to Megatron. As infuriating as Megatron might be, his sheer size helped him stay at least a little warmer than anything else on this Pitted planet. Seekers tended to run hot, and Starscream was no exception. However, all his high-powered engines were doing for him now was expel heat, making condensation bead irritatingly along the edges of every vent.
As if he wasn’t damp enough.
“Don’t even think about offlining me here,” Megatron snarled.
Starscream rolled his optics and angled his wings in a gesture of insouciant insubordination even though he knew Megatron wouldn’t pick up on it. “Please. You act like I have no sense of self preservation.”
“Oh, like you haven’t tried in worse situations.” Megatron sneered, but his spark obviously wasn’t in it. Size or no size, weather like this would try anyone’s spark.
Starscream shuffled closer again, holding up his servos placatingly. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Lord Megatron, but it’s cold.”
“I don’t see what that has to do with anything.”
“You asked me to stop fidgeting,” Starscream reminded him.
“And?”
Starscream sighed in exasperation, expelling a long burst of hot air from his vents in what was not a wise move, given the current temperature, but a deeply satisfying one. “I am trying to get warmer. You are warm. If I get warmer, I’ll stop fidgeting.” He turned away from Megatron, hiking his wings up as he pulled his plating as tight into himself as he could get it.
He foolishly stopped paying attention to Megatron.
So when a powerful hand grabbed the upper edge of one of his wings, it was all he could do to squawk with indignance and scrabble at the ground as he was dragged backwards, expecting at any moment to have Megatron’s other hand punch or twist at some part of him.
Except Megatron just pulled Starscream close enough that his back and wings were up against Megatron’s chest, and then released him. Warm air from Megatron’s vents washed over Starscream, and he couldn’t stop a much happier sigh.
Maybe Earth wasn’t so bad after all.