Bones never liked the official Captain James Tiberius Kirk picture, the one of Jim in his command gold looking off into the distance that Starfleet Communications sent to the press upon request, or that was given to Jim to sign for auctions or a sick kid. Bones referred to is as "Tomorrow Belongs to Me," a reference Jim didn't get until Nyota leant him a holo of a movie musical from the twentieth century.
"What the hell, Bones?" Jim said. "You think I look like a Hitler Youth? I mean, after the whole Eugenics Wars—not to mention—" and here Jim dropped from his shouting to an intense whisper—"what you know about my past!"
"That's exactly what I mean, Jim," Bones said. "Makes me angry just to look at it. You'd think Starfleet would be more sensitive than to send around a picture that looks like it was taken by Leni Riefenstahl at her Leni Riefenstahl-iest."
As was often true, Bones kinda had a point there. So Jim decided, when they were planetside between their first and second mission, to get some new official photos taken that were a little less officious and a little friendlier.
"Ah," Bones said. "The softer side of Starfleet? Have fun with that."
"Bones, you are totally coming," Jim said.
"Like hell," Bones replied. "I have better things to do than watch a bunch of idiots falling all over your good looks."
"You know I'll get a better picture if you're there."
"You think I'm enough of an idiot not to know you're doing this so you can get a picture of me?" Bones asked.
"You hate your official photograph."
"Because I'm walking. Who has their picture taken while they're walking? It's stupid. Also my hair looks like an action figure."
"Actually it looks just like your own action figure," Jim said.
Bones scowled. "You should know," he said, "you spend enough time playing with it."
Jim smirked at that; his and Bones's action figures were currently on his desk in an compromising position. "So come get a new picture," Jim said.
Bones stared at him, the stare of "I am trying to make up my own damn mind, Jim Kirk, and you ain't gonna convince me of anything I don't want to do." Jim kept a neutral smile because at times like these if he looked too pleading he just turned Bones off.
After a moment Bones sighed. "Fine," he said, "but I'm wearing a suit with a tie and not whatever undignified thing you're bound to end up in."
"No, Bones," he said, "that sounds great."
Jim decided on a simple button-down for the photo, and black and white to cut down on the whole blue-eyed blond thing. Bones stood a little way behind the camera, near the lights and the make-up mirrors, handsome as hell in his suit. Looking at him, Jim had a few misgivings; he wasn't sure he wanted the entire galaxy to know just how hot his husband-to-be was. But, in for a penny.
Five years being diplomatic in the far reaches of space had given Jim a good and easily accessible fake smile, which is what they all wanted to avoid, so Jim asked Bones to stay in his eye line. It was pretty easy to smile looking at Bones all dapper in his suit, especially since, as often happened, his low-parted bangs had lost the battle with his widow's peak, and that one rebellious piece of hair was falling down into the middle of his forehead. That was Jim's favorite, and his fingers fairly itched to either push the hair back into place, or mess it up entirely. He kept his hands on his knees.
After about an hour of posing and smiling and staring at Bones, with Bones staring back and often smiling back himself, the photographer thought they had got the shot and Jim went to the monitor to see the digital readouts. He saw three he liked, showed them to Bones, and Bones agreed on one where he was just smiling unguardedly into the camera.
"Guess it's my turn now," Bones said, eyebrows drawn.
"Nah, we're done," Jim said.
Bones looked surprised. "So you don't want one of me after all?" he asked.
"We got one," Jim replied, pulling it up on the monitor.
"How?" Bones asked.
"I told you to stay in my eye line," Jim replied. "We set up another camera that was pointed back at you. When we looked at each other we were both looking into the camera."
"Huh," Bones said. "They do it with mirrors?"
"It's a good shot," Jim said.
Bones stared at his photo on the monitor. "You're right."
"I just wanted them to see you the way I see you, Bones," Jim said.
"Me too, Jim," Bones said, looking at the photo of Jim again. "Me too."