A/n: I'll hit afternoon, evening, and night eventually!
Standard Disclaimer: These pretty birds ain't mine, I just play with them gently. Please don't sue me. The mistakes are mine, though.
A Dinahmite Time of Day: Morning
Laurel loves morning. Always has. When she was a kid, she would bounce out of bed, giddy and brimming with excitement for another day of instructive adventure with her Mom or for the many silly and fun activities of little to no redeeming value her Dad preferred. Her parents used to call her Morning Glory because they couldn't remember her ever waking up without a smile on her lips and a twinkle in her eye. Throughout school ages, she would wake up full of anticipation to learn something new, which made her Mom so proud to have inculcated such a passion for knowledge in her daughter. When her Mom died, and even at her lowest point after her Dad's death, she would still arise full of energy until realization of her losses drained it all away.
The joy of a new day returned in earnest upon reinventing herself as Black Siren. There was an addictive quality to waking to the dangerous thrill of the world being one's playground singing through her veins. Only the euphoria of actually enacting her fantasies of violent revenge and inciting mayhem could equal the high of them being the very first thing that popped into her mind upon being roused by the rising of the sun. Breakfast was infinitely more savory and her morning shower more refreshing while plotting out nefarious schemes that normally involved mass destruction or indiscriminate killing or a tasty mix of both. And the morning after a successful venture? Well, that was an occasion arousing enough to start the day of the absolute best way possible.
Though life is very different for Laurel now in the wake of her reemergence into civilization and she is encumbered by weighty responsibilities that she could not have handled less than a year ago, her love for morning has never wavered. In fact, it is stronger than ever before seeing as her job, while stressful as all hell on a good day, fulfills and challenges her in unexpected ways every single day. Serving as District Attorney for an area the size of Star City affords her ample opportunity to finally put that passion for learning her mother instilled in her to good use. And while the joy of a productive and profoundly meaningful career is incomparable to the titillation of evil deeds, the distinction has no negative connotation. Strangely enough, putting bad people like she used to be behind bars has healed a lot of the scarring left behind from her father being murdered for trying to do the same.
More than anything else, though, Laurel loves mornings because of Dinah. Used to when she had a lover sleep over, she immediately left them in bed upon waking – she is always the first up – and went on about her daily rituals until they roused. At which time she would thank them with a complimentary kiss or maybe breakfast depending on how well they performed, or if they did not quite measure up to her high standards be promptly shown the door. With Dinah, she has started up a new, far more pleasant and entertaining routine.
You see, Dinah is an unpredictable creature whose reaction to waking can never be accurately gauged before the event occurs. Some mornings she'll jerk awake with a gasp, eyes huge and flitting frantically about their bedroom, chest heaving as she recovers from a nightmare that quickly evaporates into the ether as her senses reactivate. There are sadly a lot of nightmares. Dinah has seen a lot of heinous shit in her life – that some of it was perpetrated by Laurel herself certainly puts a temporary damper on her morning enthusiasm. Other mornings Dinah will growl angrily and get incrementally combative as Laurel persistently pats at her hip, tickles the shell of her ear, or lightly scratches at her back or shoulder to irritate her awake since she's slept through the alarm again. Invariably, that amusing tendency of Dinah's to sleep like the dead will be blamed on Laurel as they rush out the door – both of them late for work because for whatever reason Laurel has all sorts of trouble forcing herself out of their apartment so long as Dinah is still inside – for either 'deviously manipulating' her to stay up too late watching TV or for having exhausted her the night before during naked fun time. Laurel just grins, making sure her dimples are really prominent, and wears Dinah's grumpiness like a badge of honor.
The best mornings of all are when Dinah comes awake slow and easy. On their sides facing one another, with a drowsy smile turning up those luscious lips, she'll just lie there gazing at Laurel through hooded eyes for the longest time, all languid and content, in no rush to leave the cocoon of warmth and comfort that is their bed. Once the haze of sleepiness has dissipated enough to formulate thoughts that can then be expressed intelligibly, she'll greet Laurel with a huskily whispered, "Hi," and then prove unable to resist temptation to indulge her affectionately tactile nature. Soft hands will start to wander then, growing braver by the second. Laurel only ever lies still, studying Dinah's face as fingertips trace her jawline and nose and lips, or a smooth palm slides down her bare arm only to change course and then snake beneath the hem of her tank top where it dances over her abs or caresses the small of her back. When Dinah is feeling especially frisky, she'll start her hand on Laurel's knee, work it slowly up her thigh massaging and stroking a path to the threshold of her boxers, only to then sneak under into dangerous territory. On mornings like that when they're invariably running late by the time they're ready for work, Laurel leaves the apartment looking like the Siren that ate the Canary, which doesn't even bother Dinah because she floats all the way downstairs to her government issued sedan.
Whether there is hanky panky or not, Laurel wouldn't trade a single morning with Dinah for a thousand with anyone else. There is not a single soul who better understands her than Dinah and is yet able to love her in spite of her innumerable and acute flaws. Nobody except Dinah can make her heart flutter and flood with delicious warmth from just holding her hand or kissing her forehead or saying those three little words just because. Only Dinah can, with a single coy glance or a breathy utterance of her name, cause her brain to furiously flick the fight or fuck switch to the down position. And Dinah alone inspires her to be a better person by simply being herself. There is only one Dinah Miriam Drake, which makes Dinah Laurel Lance the luckiest bitch on the entire planet. Hell, on any planet – including the insane number of alternate Earths.
So yeah. Laurel loves mornings. Who wouldn't in her position?