"Hard to say everything when you're sort of still in the middle of it, too." Coulson's still in the middle of dealing with everything that he is, on top of the thin veneer of distrust that's hard to wipe away. Clint had still been in the middle of even trying to process it all. Hard to deal with trauma properly if you aren't even out the other side of it yet. "They say it's a marathon, not a sprint. But I needed to prove I wasn't going to snap, and then I needed to prove I was fit for duty."

So it is what it is. He is fit for duty. That doesn't mean he's okay, necessarily. Doesn't mean he could regurgitate every god damn feeling and pick apart every irrational thought on demand.

"Sure, I'd like to say I'm over it, and it's never going to be a problem. I can't guarantee anything like that, though." He kicks back the rest of his drink. Lets it burn slow, settle warm. Breathe out heavy. "Now's as good a time as any to tell me you're worried about my evals, you know."