Never Surrender

"You two need to get ready soon!" Sam Santos commented as they finished off their dinner, "We don't want to be late."

Max took the bite off food off his fork and looked to Kennedy. "Late for what?" he asked, glancing between the father and daughter.

"There's a Thanksgiving party every year," Kennedy explained, pushing the mashed potatoes around on her plate, "Everyone gets to together at the Town Hall building with their leftovers and just enjoys the holiday." She looked across the table at her father, who smiled brightly at them both.

"I haven't missed one in years," he confessed. He groaned in contentment and patted his stomach. "This was really an amazing dinner, Ken, thank you so much for your help."

Kennedy pushed out of her chair and lifted her father's plate from the table. She put it in the sink with her own and turned back to face Max, who was just finishing up. "You're going to meet everyone," she said, bracing herself against the counter, "A whole throng of small town people right there in one building."

Max stood up and took his plate over to the sink. His hip pressed against hers as he leaned past her to drop his dish in the water. "Will I get to meet your high school friends?" he asked, a smirk on his lips. "Did you even have friends in high school?"

Kennedy scoffed as her father laughed at Max's mocking. She pushed him away from her and stepped back near her chair. "Of course I had friends," she responded, crossing her arms.

"That's right," Sam agreed, "And if I recall correctly, they practically lived over here." He gave his daughter the same look she received time and time again as a teenager.

Kennedy pictured the teenage faces of the people she'd spent eighteen years with. "Sophie and Deacon," she stated, tasting the names she'd almost forgotten on her tongue. She turned to look at her father. "Do they still live here?"

Sam Santos stood up and rested his hand on his daughter's shoulder. "Not that many leave," he said softly, squeezing her shoulder. Without another word, he walked past them both and headed to the stairs to clean up for the night.

In the kitchen, Kennedy stood still, her eyes trained on the wall. Max frowned and waved his hand in front of her eyes. "Ken, you okay?" he questioned, pressing his fingers against her forehead. "Kenny?"

She pushed his hand off and nodded, her eyes sliding across the room to meet his. "Yeah," she said, before repeating it more confidently, "Yeah, I'm fine. I, I just didn't think that I'd be seeing them so soon."

"It'll be fine, won't it?" he asked, gingerly touching the hem of her shirt.

Kennedy's fingers found his and she gently nodded. "Yeah, I don't see why not," she reassured him, "I just know that it'll be a shock for them all to see me back here again."

"Well, yeah," Max agreed, "It's been awhile."

"Eight years," Kennedy specified.

Max squeezed her hand and nodded towards the narrow hallway. "Lets go get ready," he suggested, offering her a smile, "We'd hate to make your dad late."

The duo walked one in front of each other towards the stairs. Max jumped into the shower while Kennedy changed into something other than a pair of ratty old jeans. She slipped on the one dress she'd brought with her just before Max came walking out of the bed room, rubbing a towel against his hair.

His lips pressed together at the sight of her in a black lace dress. The lace was cut into a pattern of flowers and her skin showed through the clear lacey sections surrounding the flowers. It was hardly winter appropriate, but it was stunning.

"Wow," Max breathed, dropping the towel to his side. His eyes trailed over her visible skin and slender legs. "Ken, you look amazing."

Kennedy, who had been bunching her hair up on her head, dropped her hair around her shoulders and smiled politely. "Thanks, Maxie." She moved a few strands of hair into place. "What do you think?" she asked, turning to him, "Should I put my hair up or leave it down?" She wound it into a tight bun and lifted her eyebrows.

"Definitely up," Max replied definitely, working to keep his eyes away from her mostly-bare shoulders. In just his boxers, he turned to his bag and unzipped it. "Shit, Ken, I don't know what I'm going to wear."

Kennedy finished putting her hair up and smiled. "I've already got it picked out," she said, surprising the bassist.

Max stepped back and motioned for her to delve right into his bag. She ruffled around in his suitcase until she should the new pair of black skinnies that she'd made sure he'd packed and a nice grey hoodie with darker grey sleeves and hood.

"Here you are," she quipped, handing the man the outfit, "I figured you could wear your leather jacket with the weird American flag on the arm over it and the new black on black Vans I just bought you."

Max wrapped an arm around her shoulders and kissed the spot above her ear. "I don't know where I'd be without you," he exaggerated.

Kennedy laughed and pushed him away. "Get dressed," she demanded pointedly.

Max saluted and dropped the clothes on her bed so he could step into his hole-less jeans. He watched her gingerly walk barefoot into the bathroom. From where he stood he watched as she applied makeup to her face, something that was a rarity for her.

Max wasn't used to seeing his best friend dolled up. Usually she donned a t'shirt or tank and a pair of jeans she'd worn a hundred times before. That was what Max was used to, but he definitely wasn't complaining about tonight's choice of wardrobe.

He dried and straightened his hair as Kennedy went to ask her dad about something. When he was practically done, she walked back into the room and dug through her oversized bag.

"What're you looking for?" Max asked, looking at her through the mirror in front of him. He frowned as she groaned loudly and fell back onto her bed.

"I can't find my beige heels," she sighed loudly, "I swear I packed them, but there're not in here."

Max shut off the straightener and left it on the counter. "Didn't you take them out and put them somewhere?" he questioned, pushing his pin-straight hair over his shoulder only for it to fall back against his cheek.

Kennedy sat up suddenly and raced to the walk-in doors next to the bathroom door. "I put them in here so they wouldn't get ruined," she said as she remembered. She threw open the white doors and grinned at Max. "You're a genius." She reached in and pulled out the ankle-high studded high heeled suède boots.

She carried them over the bed so she could slip into them, but Max pulled them from her hands. "Now these, I like," he murmured, running his thumb over the sharp points that covered the back, covering her Achilles Heel.

"They're my favorite," she admitted, taking them back from him. She sat on the edge of her bed and zipped her feet into them. When she stood up, she was just barely taller than Max.

The bassist frowned at the height difference. "I'm not liking this," he complained, "You need flats or something."

"Or you could just be taller?" Kennedy offered, smirking at the long haired man as he glared and turned away from him.

"Lets go," he demanded unhappily, heading towards where his jacket was slung over the back of a plush vanity chair that Kennedy had acquired during her early teen years.

"Aw, Maxie, don't pout," Kennedy cooed as he slipped his arms into the leather jacket. "It's unbecoming."

Max rolled his eyes and grabbed her hand. "Lets go," he repeated, leading her to the bedroom door. The descended the stairs together and met Sam in the kitchen.

The older man smiled at the duo in front of him. "You two look wonderful," he complimented, "Everyone is going to be in awe."

"That's all Ken," Max commented, holding his hands up, "She's stunning all on her own."

Kennedy rolled her eyes at the men's compliments and nodded towards the door down the hall behind her. "Should we get going?" she asked, feeling Max's fingers slip between her own, "We'd hate to be late."