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Jack always holds Miranda when they sleep. Never the other way around. It's not that she doesn't like being held, hell, it feels nice when they watch a movie and Miranda pulls her between her legs, letting Jack's head rest against her chest. But when they sleep, Jack needs to know she has an escape route. An escape from what? The war is over, everything is as peaceful as it can be. Still, she finds herself unable to sleep if she's the one being held, feels like she's trapped somehow and if something, someone were to intrude, she wouldn't be able to escape. She doesn't feel trapped with Miranda, shit, she's never felt so free than when she was with her. But instincts honed from years of survival were hard to shake off.
Jack never thought she would have been big on cuddling. Usually everything that involved contact with another human being boiled down either to sex or fighting. But since Miranda, her whole view shifted. Especially when she learned how touch-starved the other biotic was. Not that Miranda admitted it. Jack noticed one night, after they were both drained and sweaty, the subtle shift in Miranda, the way she slightly drew closer to Jack, the way the tip of her fingers would graze a tattooed arm. Never fully reaching, never demanding but there was an underlying expectation.
So Jack did the only thing that came to mind and pulled Miranda in her arms, enveloping her like a warm blanket, head resting in the crook of the ex-convict's neck. It was awkward at first, neither used to such affections and Jack could feel how stiff Miranda had become, almost regretting her actions until Miranda relaxed and slowly resting her hand on Jack's hip. That's when she felt something wet on her neck. Instead of saying anything, she just held Miranda more firmly against her, curling around her protectively. It felt right, somehow.
Since then, Jack made a habit of holding Miranda, outside and inside of their shared bed. Because on that fateful night, she connected the dots. All Miranda knew before the Normandy, before Oriana, before Jack, was indifference. And Miranda being Miranda, she doesn't know how to ask for anything, not that Jack is any better. But it works, because they understand each other without words, with one glance, one touch. It's enough.
It becomes a second nature, to hold Miranda. Jack feels like she's a puzzle piece and Miranda is the other part. They fit so well it's disconcerting and if this had happened back on the Normandy, Jack would have pulled away in anger and confusion, pushing away her missing piece. But she had grown. They both had. And they let themselves be swept in the current of their newfound affections.
On particularly rough nights, when Jack wakes in terror, sweating and disoriented with nightmares of her past, her barriers crumble and only then does she feel safe enough to be held without the fear of being trapped with no escape. And fuck does it feel nice to have Miranda hold Jack against her, she's so soft, the softest thing Jack's ever touched. And one day, one day she knows the chains holding her down wi break just enough to be able to let Miranda hold her whenever she wants, because that's just how her relationship with her cheerleader is. Freeing. But for now, it's enough for both of them.