The last thing that most people would think that Kara Thrace was, was a cuddler. She's too brash, too hard, too rough and angry to make anyone think that she might want to be held, to be quiet and just hide in the warmth of another person, but she does. She's craved it ever since she was a little girl, because after her father died, it was in short supply in her life. She wasn't really able to get that close to another person until Zak, and it was one of the reasons she fell for him in the first place. When they started dating, and frakking, he would insist on holding her close. Before sex, after sex, an arm around her shoulders when they were out on a date - little things, but they filled something inside of her she'd been missing for a long, long time.
The night after he died, when Lee showed up on her doorstep, they stood looking at each other for a long time before awkwardly wrapping their arms around each other. They ended up in bed together, fully clothed and wrapped around each other like they were the only solid things left in the world. But Lee's no more the type of person to initiate contact than she is, so after that one night, they continue their relationship like it's always been, with very little touching and shells around each other miles wide. That doesn't change when he comes aboard the Galactica, even though the worlds end.
Sam likes to touch just fine, but he's too impatient and too hyperactive to do much cuddling. He's more the slap on the back, quick kiss on the mouth type. It isn't until she's locked inside the "house" with Kacey that she gets to cuddle with someone again. And it's a comfort, and despite how frakked up her world is in there, it helps something inside her heal. The little girl's open and unconditional acceptance, love and comfort are a miracle to her.
By pure accident, Kara stumbles across a bag of dehydrated cherries while searching through the ship's stores for spare webbing for the cockpit of her Viper. She briefly contemplates what they would be worth at the Triad tables, or what she could trade them for on the black market. Then, an image forms, unbidden, in her mind of a little girl with blonde curls, hazel eyes, and a bright smile.
Several very sticky hours later, the cherries are all gone, Kacey's curled up in Kara's lap in the drowsy aftermath of a sugar-induced high, and Kara thinks that the look on the little girl's face when she tasted her first real (albeit dehydrated) cherries is worth infinitely more than anything she could possibly trade them for ever could be.