Disclaimer: Superman and all other related characters are property of Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster and DC Comics.

Author's Notes: I've been wanting to do something like this for a long time now. The Justice League as college students. I was inspired by Yale Stewart's JL8 webcomic (they're the Justice League as 8-year-olds) and I wanted to make one of my own (but I thought I'd start with a fanfic), setting it instead in college. There will be drama, comedy, laughter, tears, love triangles, best friends turning on each other and patching up, and the pressures of a college student. There will be the occasional "saving the day", and also midnight Denny's and Starbucks runs.

Siegel University, Boston...

Time seemed to stop as a long black limousine pulled into the school's parking lot. He was the richest guy anyone in the school had ever laid eyes on. Everyone stared.

"Who is that?" an awed Barry Allen whispered to a new arrival standing next to him.

"I dunno," Clark whispered back. "Ma says it's not polite to stare."

"You always do what your mother tells you?" Barry asked.

"Pretty much. I was raised that way," Clark answered. Barry nodded.

"Name's Barry, by the way," Barry said, extending a hand to his fellow freshman. "Barry Allen."

"Clark Kent," Clark said, taking it to shake.

"You know what major you are yet?"

"Journalism. Got my sights set on it. News is important to the world."

"All of that is just BS. Look at Faux News."

"Not all news is like Fox News. If I recall correctly, my dad said journalists aren't supposed to be biased and lean toward one side or the other—which Fox does. I'd choose carefully what I watch and listen to if I were you."

Barry was about to make a reply when Clark shushed him.

He suddenly knew whose limousine that was. Knew who the young man dressed all in black and wearing a long black trench coat was.

"Shall I carry your luggage to your dormitory, Master Bruce?" Alfred Pennyworth said as he took Bruce's bags out of the trunk. He was getting emotional. Not only was Bruce his master; he was also like a son to him. And he was beaming with pride as Bruce set foot on Siegel University.

"I'll take it from here, Alfred," Bruce said, gathering his belongings.

"Alright, sir," Alfred said, nodding. "You take very good care of yourself here, Master Bruce."

Bruce merely nodded.

"You are as precious to me—" Alfred began to say, but Bruce cut him off.

"I know, Alfred. I'll call when I'm settled in."

Alfred nodded.

"Goodbye, Master Bruce."

"Goodbye, Alfred."

Shall I carry your luggage to your dormitory, Master Bruce? That voice sounded familiar to Clark. And the name "Master Bruce."

"I know who he is," Clark said to Barry.

"Who?" Barry asked, turning.

"His name's Bruce Wayne."
"Wayne. As in Wayne Industries?"

"Mm-hm. One and the same."

"Son of a biscuit!" Barry exclaimed. "Bruce Wayne? Here? At Siegel University? This great!"

"Sure is," Clark said, nodding. "He and I go a long way back."

"Really?"

"Yep. He's a great guy. Don't let his cold exterior fool you. His heart's in the right place, deep down inside. He's a good friend. Take my word for it."

"Alrighty then."

"Hey, I gotta run to the administration building to see where my dorm is," Clark said.

"Iwasactuallyheadedtheremyself," Barry said, a smile playing on his lips and a twinkle in his eye. "Raceyouthere?"

Before Clark could say a word, Barry was gone, leaving a trail of dust and leaves behind him.

"Excuse me," Bruce asked, startling one of the groundskeepers in front of him. "Do you know where Felton Hall is?"

"Right this way," the startled man said after recovering. "Follow me."

"Thank you," Bruce said, following his lead.

They walked past Ballard Hall, past Hereford Hall, a building that looked more like an apartment than a dormitory, until they reached Felton Hall, Bruce's assigned dormitory. He read the list posted on the building's double doors.

Lower East Wing. Room 204. Wayne, B. Kent, C.

"Oh, great," Bruce mumbled. But deep down, he was glad his old friend was going to be his roommate. He pushed the door open and made his way to his wing. Looking around, he spotted Room 204. He tried the door. It was unlocked. After setting his bags down on the floor, he went over to his desk. On it was the lounge key (in case he came back late and the main entrance was already locked) and his room key taped to a piece of paper they had to sign, containing a list of appliances and furniture. They were to check each one off if it worked. Then they were to sign it and give it to the resident assistant. Bruce checked everything off without reading the whole thing and signed it.

"Done."

"What took you so long?" Barry said, leaning against a post, arms folded across his chest. He had a grin of satisfaction on his face.

"I, uh," Clark said, fumbling for an excuse. "I, uh... I was helping someone out."

"Admit it," Barry said. "I'm just faster than you."

Clark shrugged. "If you say so."

"You found your dorm yet?" Barry asked.

"Not yet," Clark said, heading over to the Admissions counter.

"Excuse me," Clark said, clearing his throat. "Do you know which dorm I'm assigned? The names Clark. Clark Kent?"

"Kent," the woman at the counter said. "Yes! Felton Hall. Your room number is 204 and your keys will be on your desk."

Clark thanked her and exited the building, proceeding to look for Felton Hall. He heard a swooshing sound and was surprised to see Barry beside him.

"Sowhat'syourdorm? What'syourdorm? What'syourdorm?" he asked, speaking fast. Clark must have extreme patience. Most people would have been annoyed.

"I'll be living in...Felton Hall."

"Sweet!" Barry said. "That's my dorm too! What wing're you gonna be on?"

"I don't know yet. I guess I'll know when I get there. All I have is the room number. Now... Let's see..."

Clark bent over to study a map of the campus—one of the maps scattered all over the place to help students navigate their way around.

"That'sjustupthestairspasttheotherdormandthenanoth erandthenFeltonHall!" Barry said, speeding up. He was getting excited. He was like a kid on sugar rush times one hundred.

"Right," Clark said, nodding. "Let's go."

"Race you there?"

"Not so fast," Clark said, trying to catch his new friend. No such luck.

"Slow day?" Barry teased.

"Not everything's a race, Barry," Clark reminded him.

"That's what all the slow kids say. Let's go find our rooms."

"204, East Wing," Clark mumbled.

"Apparently, I'm just four doors down from you. Room 200. Lower West Wing."

"Awesome," Clark said with a smile. It was genuine. He really did like Barry. "I'll see you at the welcome dinner?"

"Sure," Barry said, chuckling. "Race you there?"

"Not tonight."

"Ooh," Barry said. "I wonder what my roommate's going to be like... He's got a pretty cool sounding name... Hal Jordan."

"Diana, right? Diana Prince?" Paige Douglas, the RA of Fanning Hall's Upper East wing said, welcoming the newcomer. "This way. I'll show you your room."

"Thank you," Diana said.

She led Diana to the east wing, down the corridor, until they reached Room 107.

"This is your room, Room 107. And this is your roommate, Karen. Karen, this is Diana."

"Hi," Karen said, extending a hand to Diana to shake. "Name's Karen Starr."

"Diana. Diana Prince."

"Barry Allen?" a voice called just as Barry was about to enter the room with his and his roommate's name on it. He turned around to see who it was.

"Name's Brock Ledger," Lower West's RA said, introducing himself. "And you're...Hal Jordan, right?"

Hal nodded.

"Look, guys... I'm sorry about the confusion, but... It seems you two have been moved."

"Moved!? What the f— Son of a biscuit!" Barry said. "Where?"

"Looks like you'll be living in Hereford Hall."

"That ugly building next to this one? Ugh!"

"Hey," Brock said. "I wouldn't call Hereford Hall ugly. Alright? Think about it this way. This is a dorm. Hereford Hall is more of a...an apartment! Here, you have restrictions on what size your plasma TV can be. There's no such rule in Hereford. You can have a microwave in your room, unlike here, where you can't and the only way you can heat your food up is outside in the hallway."

"Sweet," Hal said. "We'll take it!"

"What?" Barry said, incredulous. "Have you gone mental?"

"Just think about it," Hal said. "All the amenities! Our own personal microwave in the room? No size restrictions for flatscreen TVs?"

Barry thought about it.

"Do we get to have game consoles in the room?"

"Heck yeah," Brock assured them.

"Sweet!" Barry said, fist in the air.

"And it's a six-person dorm—or apartment, I should say," Brock said.

"Six?" Hal asked, not sure if he heard the guy right.

"That's absurd! If there's gonna be too much people—" Barry began to protest.

"Hey, it works for some, it doesn't work for others," Brock said. "Besides, it's a six-person room but it'll only be three of you in it room. The two of you and another guy."

"So, how does it work?" Hal asked. "Do we all share one big room?"

"There are two rooms—one big, one small. Two people can sleep in the smaller room and then four in the big room. Two plus four equals six."

"Gotcha," Barry said. "So with only three people, that means we get plenty of space!"

Dunster Hall...

Oliver Queen navigated his way through the labyrinth of Dunster Hall, searching for Room 221. Finding it, he peeked in. His roommate was already settled. A young man in an orange Hawaiian shirt and green shorts. From his choice of room decoration and from the surfboard leaning against the wall, Oliver guessed that he must be a surfer. It seemed he was also very nautically-minded. His board was decorated with a golden trident and his posters depicted sea life.

"Hi there!" Oliver's roommate greeted him. "Name's Arthur Curry. You must be Oliver."

"Yep," Oliver said, nodding. "That's right. You a surfer?"

"Oh, yeah," Arthur said. "Love it out there. I feel like it's my home. I noticed you have a compound bow. You an archer?"

"Uh-huh. I just checked out the programs here," Oliver said. "I found out they have an archery team."

Hereford Hall, Upper Back...

"Here we are! Room 18. This place seems legit enough," Barry said, nodding. Hal looked at the names written on the board in front of the door.

"Hal Jordan, Barry Allen..."
"What?" Barry asked, curious.

"Must be a typo," Hal said.

"J—" Barry tried to read. "J...John...Jones? Obviously a horrible typo. I mean, why would they spell 'John' with an apostrophe and two n's? And why would they spell 'Jones' with an apostrophe, two n's, and a z? That can't be right."

Hal tapped Barry on the shoulder and pointed. Someone was headed their way.

"Must be our roommate?" Hal whispered. "Looks too schnazzy. I mean, who wears suits? They're uncomfortable."

"Hi," Barry and Hal's new roommate said, stopping in front of them. "I'm J'onn."

Felton Hall...

"Bruce!" Clark said with a laugh, happy to see his long-time friend. Even despite their differences in ideas, morals (Bruce believed revenge was a form of justice while Clark didn't), and tastes, he considered Bruce his best friend.

"Hey, Clark," Bruce said, looking up, acknowledging his presence. He extended a hand to Clark and Clark clasped his arm in a Roman handshake. Bruce never liked hugs.

"It's good to see you, Bruce."

"Yeah. Good to see you too."