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The session is about to end, and Tango's about to turn red. Ren has his arms wrapped around him tight, supplying sweet pressure to help him regulate.
Tango is a quiet crier, if Impulse wasn't telling Tango not to cry, Ren wouldn't have known he even was. Maybe he'd be able to tell by how shaky his breathing is and the occasional sniff.
“It's okay, Tango,” Impulse soothes, on the other side of Tango, pressed to his front. His grip isn't nearly as tight as Ren's. “You know I'd let you kill me a heartbeat.” Impulse offers.
Y'know, Ren would, too. He may be on three lives, but going down to yellow and keeping Tango off of red is a sacrifice he'd gladly make for his brother.
“I can't!” Tango protests, gently pushing Impulse off of him and bringing his hand up to his eyes to wipe away tears. “I can't,” He repeats, much quieter. “Not to my own teammate— not to you.”
“Please, Tango!” Impulse protests, gripping the man's hand. “You're gonna lose four lives if you don't take one of mine, and I can't let that happen.” Impulse seems like he's close to crying, too.
“You don't have to do a lot, you can just punch me and then I'll go jump in lava so it counts.” It's so strange to hear someone begged to be killed, Ren thinks.
“No,” Tango refuses. “I've been killed by own teammates too many times, I'm not doing it to you.” It goes quiet, and Ren squeezes Tango tighter, if that's even possible.
What are they meant to say after that? It's not Impulse can refute, he's been one of those teammates.
Impulse falls back into their group hug, Ren removes one arm from Tango to stretch over Impulse's back and hold him as close as possible. Tango turns red.