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Lena was usually the first person awake in the house. Years of caffeine addiction and stress had left her unable to enjoy more than five or six hours of sleep in a night, and the anxiety that therapy had failed to fully banish meant she couldn’t fall back asleep once she awoke.
As a result, she used to push herself out of bed the second her eyes opened, forcing her body to be productive, to go through emails, to watch the news, to consume coffee, to keep moving, moving, moving. There was always too much to do, and not enough hours in a day to do it all.
Then she’d met Sam, and Sam had befriended her, and they’d become queerplatonic partners and coparents, and Sam had convinced her that she could spend the first hour of the day (alright, the first half hour, until she built up to the first hour) reading a book for fun. That the world wouldn’t end and her company wouldn’t collapse if she didn’t check her email at five in the morning.
And then Kara had moved in.
Kara got very grumpy on days when she slept in Lena’s room and woke up without Lena there. More than once, she’d emerged with (frankly, adorable) bedhead to glare at Lena, sitting at the kitchen table. “What?” Lena had finally asked, startled by the early-morning hostility.
“Morning cuddles,” Kara had grumbled with a pout. “You’re missing morning cuddles.”
Which is why she was currently reading her book on her phone, while Kara slept next to her, occasionally making little snuffling sounds.
They’d had a longer conversation, once Kara was appropriately sugared up and awake, because sometimes Lena didn’t want morning cuddles. Some mornings she woke up, and the thought of touching another person make her skin crawl, or Kara was too hot, or the idea of someone lying on top of her triggered her claustrophobia. And sometimes the thought of lying in bed waiting for Kara to wake up bored her.
It wasn’t that she didn’t get anything out of cuddling, she’d explained to Kara, who had listened without judgment, like she always did. It was just… sometimes it didn’t do it for her. And occasionally (usually, but not always, around the time she was going to get her period) it actually bothered her.
So they had compromised. On days when it felt good, Lena would stay in bed to cuddle with Kara until she woke up. And on days when it didn’t, Kara wouldn’t pout because Lena had gotten out of bed.
It sounded simple on paper, but it had taken Lena a long time to feel truly comfortable with the arrangement. Twice, to avoid disappointing Kara, she had stayed in bed to cuddle when it didn’t feel good, and Kara hadn't noticed until the second time.
Kara didn’t get mad often, but she’d gotten mad then.
“Lena, this only works if I can trust that you’ll tell me to stop!” she’d scolded. She hadn’t been yelling, but her voice had definitely been louder than usual.
“I just… you looked so happy,” Lena had said meekly, ducking her head so she hadn’t had to look Kara in the eyes.
“I’m only happy when you’re happy!” Kara had thrown her hands up in exasperation. “Do you really think I’m that selfish?”
“What? No! Of course not!”
Kara had sucked in a breath and let it out slowly, causing the hair around her face to flutter. “I wish,” she’d said finally, “that you would stop thinking I’m settling for you.”
Lena had bitten her lip so hard she’d tasted blood.
Kara had continued, “I love you, Lena. That’s not conditional. I would still love you if you never wanted to cuddle with me in the mornings. If you never wanted me to touch you at all. You make me a better person, and you’re my best friend, and it makes me so happy that I get to hang out with you every day. Everything else is icing.” Lena had started to say something, but Kara had shaken her head. “Do you know how it feels to realize that I did something that made you uncomfortable?”
“Kara…” Lena’d managed around the lump in her throat.
“It sucks,” she’d said baldly. “But I’m not a mind-reader. And I can’t be the only one in this relationship looking out for your happiness.”
“Okay,” Lena had said. “Okay. I promise, Kara. I promise.”
Kara had scrutinized her carefully before she’d nodded, then cracked a small grin. “That was enough guilt then?”
Lena had huffed out a small laugh, her heart clenching almost painfully. “Yes. That was plenty.”
That had been long enough ago that now, when Kara rolled over and threw a leg and an arm over Lena, she could trust that Lena would tell her if she didn’t want that. They’d been together for enough time that they’d developed their own shorthand. For example, when Kara mumbled, “Good morning,” she was also asking if this was a good morning. And when Lena kissed the top of her head, she was saying yes.
Kara burrowed deeper, and today that made Lena laugh and feel warm in all the right ways, and she tightened her arms around Kara. It wasn’t always easy, but when Kara sighed contentedly against Lena’s shoulder, it was worth it.