Hi! I'm a little bit rusty on writing fanfic, but this idea has been swimming around in my head for ages and I finally got around to putting it on paper. This story is based on stories of the Super Sons by Bob Haney that were in a bunch of World's Finest issues from the 70s/80s. The premise is that Supes and Bats have kids (the imaginitively named Clark Jr. and Bruce Jr.) who also want to fight crime but their dads won't let them, so they're always complaining about a "generation gap" and saying things like "Alfred! Douse that freaky light!"
Anywho, this story is a Superman/Batman friendship fic (with some sm/ll and bm/ww thrown in, don't worry), mostly in cannon, and I've tried to keep everyone in character. And disclaimers: I own nothing that belongs to DC Comics and the Super Sons were created by Bob Haney!
THE SUPER SONS
Clark had just pulled on his sweats, popped open a bottle of strawberry Yoo-hoo, and turned on the game when Batman showed up in his living room. It wasn't a good sign. Superman could deal with Batman, Clark could (kind of) deal with Bruce, but Clark and Batman? Never good. "H-hey, Batman," he said when he managed to push past the dread and swallow the sad little sip of Yoo-hoo.
Batman glanced over Clark's shoulder at the TV. "The Monarchs are going to lose this one."
"Says who?" demanded their ever-loyal fan.
"All of the bookies," replied Batman matter-of-factly and before Clark could protest he continued, "They need us at the Watchtower. J'onn contacted me telepathically. He says it's a matter that requires the utmost discretion."
"Discretion?" Clark arched an eyebrow.
"Your guess is as good as mine."
Before he could offer a half-hearted protest, the on-air sportscaster interrupted them by declaring "AND THE MONARCHS HAVE ANOTHER MAN OUT!" Bruce shrugged as Clark sighed. The latter took one final swig of Yoo-hoo before he clicked off the TV and changed into his suit.
John was waiting for them in the hangar. "Good, you're here. We've got kind of a situation. Follow me and act natural."
Clark understood that this directive was meant for him because Bruce was next to him as stone-faced as ever. Well he himself was dying of curiosity, so excuse him for acting the most human out of the three. Maybe those two are the aliens, he thought to himself as he followed John, and the thought made him feel better.
(It was natural for Clark to be a little cranky. He had had to sort out Mxyzptlk right before heading off-world for a few days; when he came back he found out that the new copy editor at the Planet was flirting with Lois and she was letting him. It was all enough to make him hurry home at five, pull on his college sweats, and drown his sorrows in high fructose corn syrup before Bruce had interrupted him.)
Unfortunately, things weren't about to get any easier. John punched in an access code to the Founders' meeting room and then leaned forward for the retina scan. The door slid open and the three walked in to find J'onn standing in the corner with his arms crossed and Flash talking in hushed tones to two strangers… wait, strangers in their meeting room?
One of the strangers looked up and then nudged the other one, and then Clark found himself staring into a pair of amethyst eyes that were utterly familiar yet somehow misplaced. Before he could put two and two together, those eyes sparkled in recognition and their owner exclaimed, "Thank goodness you're here, dad!"
Sorry this is so short, but I wanted to set things up. The next chapter will pick up, I promise!