Even when the smoke cleared and the sand settled around them; even with Devestator destroyed and the role they played in his downfall, they were forgotten.
That was okay with them; there usually were more important things to attend to than the two of them. No matter how awesome they thought they were, they really knew better…And weren't surprised that no one remembered to come looking for them until the excitement had died down.
But they had looked for each other, following their bond to reunite amid the carnage of battle, each desperate to see what they could already feel: That the other was truly okay.
There was no one there to see them limping towards one another, one thumping along on a badly mangled leg. They both had an uneven gait to begin with, but the injury only made it that much worse and he was half-running, half-hopping and kicking up the settling dust. The other had dents all up one side; he'd landed hard and his arm was bent at a really weird angle.
No one knew that they had done well; that they had done their part and fought the best they could. The two of them -tiny, bumbling and fairly useless- had lit into Devestator like he was no bigger than a sparkling, knowing that the fight would never be fair, but not caring in the least. And certainly no one knew that they had destroyed part of Devestator's face; the combiner was decimated before the other had the chance to notice.
No one knew the good they had done, but that was okay. They were forgotten and no one was, therefore, watching when they found one another; no one saw the awkward, desperate embrace that followed.
They had never faced a battle like this before, but that didn't stop them from knowing. They were twins; they knew that they needed each other, even with all of the fighting and bickering and spats. None of that was serious; it was just posturing, putting on a show for the bigger mechs. And in the heat of battle, in the midst of a violent war, where the possibility that one would be offlined and the other left behind was very real…
The embrace was awkward not because they were embarrassed, but because of the shape of their bodies. They were not designed to be close; the bulk of their torsos and their mismatched limbs made it difficult, but that had never stopped them before.
There wasn't any one to witness the post-battle ritual, the way they jabbered at each other, one rambling about how scared he was when Devestator started vacuuming up everything in sight, the other lisping out apologies and reassurances. While they were talking at each other, fingers were wandering, exploring injuries and checking for mortal wounds. It wasn't enough to see; they had to feel and experience as well, reaffirming their continued survival, together.
Nobody saw these moments, ever, where they were real and honest and open, raw emotions surfacing and overriding bravado. They were never first in any one's mind after battle, and they were okay with that. By the time any one remembered to look for them, they were already back to slugging each other in the shoulder, tossing jeers and insults as casually as discussing weather and brawling over something pointless. It wasn't that they were too cool to let others see their raw emotions; it was…It was better that way; they wanted it that way. It was their moment, private and perfect.
And no one needed to see it.