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The above photo, part of the forthcoming GQ article in which Tom Cruise will once again do his best to convince us that he's just your average, $40-million-per-picture guy who's crazy in love with his preggers soulmate, doesn't really need any deconstructive Photoshopping. The purity of their classic, black-and-white fake love is clear, and they're so mesmerized by their contractual connection that they've suddenly wandered into the middle of the desert, where they can finally paw each other without the presence of a red carpet, dozens of photographers (one will do, thank you very much), or a stadium full of screaming fans. Cruise is lost in the moment, unsure of whether to uncomfortably mash his pursed lips against earlobe, mouth, or eyebrow, settling finally on a cheek, where's he's unlikely to encounter any unexpected moistness. His left hand, finding no motorcycle handlebar or prop-plane cockpit apparatus to occupy it, settles on the fiancee's swollen belly with a grip that says, "Whatever is in here is mine." Holmes, finally something less than a wholly passive presence, closes her eyes, smiles wanly, and temporarily reclaims the top half of her body with crisscrossed arms. This moment will be over soon, she seems to whisper, but fake-married is forever.

[Photo: GQ]