The Invisible String: Matt Murdock/ Daredevil

18

Karen leaned across the island, smirking. "Don't worry, we'll keep the jokes light tonight. But just so you know, if we run out of hot water tomorrow morning, we're not the ones to blame."

"Noted," Matt muttered.

Foggy held up his beer. "To surviving psychotic goons and whatever that was—" he pointed between the two of them, "—cheers."

Karen clinked her soda can against his bottle. "Cheers."

Matt raised his glass of water. "We made it back."

Annalise tapped her cup gently against his. "And next time? We finish what they started."

For the first time that night, the room fell into a comfortable, confident silence.

Dinner looked more like a battlefield of cardboard boxes than a meal. Pad Thai, spring rolls, fried rice, curry—Karen had ordered as if she were feeding an army instead of four worn-out souls hiding from Wilson Fisk's shadow.

"On another note, Karen," Foggy said with a grin, nudging an unopened box toward her. "This is what you call ordering light?"

Karen smirked, unapologetic. "Stress-ordering is still ordering. You'll thank me later when you're eating leftovers for breakfast."

"Not sure about curry for breakfast," he muttered, but his grin stayed.

Matt sat at the corner of the table, chopsticks in hand, his posture loose but his ears tuned to every sound. Annalise settled beside him, close enough that their arms brushed when they reached for the same container. Neither moved away.

"Leftovers for breakfast sounds incredible," Annalise said, breaking open a dumpling with deliberate care. "After everything today, I'll take whatever counts as comfort food."

Matt gave the smallest nod of agreement. Under the table, his hand twitched, as though tempted to reach for hers, but he restrained himself. Annalise, however, could feel the hum of him—his tension, his guarded want, his heartbeat quickening when she leaned a little closer.

Karen, noticing the subtle electricity sparking between them, busied herself by sliding closer to Foggy. He draped an arm around her shoulders without hesitation, and the gesture grounded them both. "See?" she said softly, tilting her head against him. "There's good in surviving the day. Like noodles, and you."

"Mostly me," Foggy teased, dropping a kiss to the crown of her head.

The four of them ate, and for a little while, it was easy to pretend the world outside the apartment wasn't hostile. The warmth of food, the hum of conversation, the occasional laugh—it felt almost normal. But underneath, Annalise felt it: Matt's guilt simmering beneath his calm exterior, the pull between them stretching tighter with every shared glance.

When dinner wound down and the table cleared, Karen clapped her hands. "Okay. Couch is officially ours. Movie date night. No arguments."

"You two earned it," Annalise said, smiling as she helped gather boxes. "We'll get out of your hair."

"Thanks," Karen replied, giving her a knowing look before curling into Foggy's side. "Rom-coms and leftover noodles—don't wait up."

Matt tilted his head toward Annalise, lips twitching at the corner. "Guess that means we're evicted."

"Bedroom's quieter anyway," she replied, then immediately wondered if it sounded too suggestive. But Matt only nodded, his cane tapping lightly as he followed her down the hall.

The bedroom was dim, lit only by the soft glow of a lamp on the dresser. Annalise shut the door gently, cutting off the muffled sound of the movie starting in the other room. For a moment, they just stood there, both uncertain.