The Invisible String: Matt Murdock/ Daredevil

15

Annalise ran her fingers along the suit's fabric one more time, then turned toward the hallway.

"I'm gonna change," she said.

Matt and Foggy looked up from the couch. No one said anything for a second, then Foggy offered a weak smile. "I'm gonna assume you're not changing into pajamas."

She gave him a dry look, then disappeared into the bedroom.

The door didn't close. She didn't need it to. Just enough distance, just enough quiet.

The light inside the room was dim, shadows stretching along the walls. She pulled off her old clothes, piece by piece, the city outside humming behind her like a current. The suit slid on smoothly, almost like it wanted to cling to her — a second skin, matte and tactical, but built for someone who understood the flow of movement like breath.

Getting into it wasn't the problem.

The zipper in the back?

Different story.

She twisted her arm behind her and gave it a good try — twice. Nothing. The angle was too sharp, the suit too form-fitting.

She exhaled.

"Matt?" she called softly, not loud enough to draw Foggy's attention.

He was already on his feet. "Yeah."

"I could use a hand."

There was a beat. "With what?"

"The zipper."

From the other room: "Ah," Foggy called. "The old zipper trick."

Matt walked toward the sound of her voice, passing just beyond Foggy's line of sight. She was standing near the mirror, her back turned to the doorway. Her shoulders were bare from the zipper down, the suit framing her like armor, like it had been designed with her in mind.

He stepped into the room, slow and quiet.

"I got it," he said gently.

She didn't look back. "I know."

He moved behind her, his fingers brushing the zipper first — then the curve of her spine. His other hand steadied lightly at her hip, fingertips grazing her waist as he found the right grip. Not rushed. Not clinical. Curious.

Annalise felt the contact — every inch of it.

The rough skin of his palm. The trail it traced as he moved one hand slowly up her back to zip the suit, the other moving reflexively with her body's shape, her shoulder, her side, the hollow just above her waist.

It wasn't lewd. But it wasn't nothing, either.

She glanced at him through the mirror.

"I don't think it requires both hands," she murmured. "You're not that blind."

Matt stilled.

A small, almost embarrassed smile touched his lips. "No. I'm not."

But he didn't move his hand away just yet. Instead, he zipped the last few inches with care, letting the moment linger.

He could feel her — not just physically, but deeper. The rhythm of her breath. The pull of energy in the air. Her heartbeat, steady but charged. His other senses were flooded with her: the warmth of her skin, the pulse of something electric under it, the quiet storm in her center.

"Thanks," she said after a second, voice softer. "For the suit. And the help."

Matt's hand slipped away finally, and he stepped back just enough. "Its definitely you, as far as I can tell"