Toby wasn't a man of unreachable high-mindedness. If Kingpin was bold enough to offer, Toby was bold enough to take.
Money, assets—he accepted them all.
Women? He indulged as well.
However, any woman provided by Fisk was strictly a "one-time" arrangement. He'd finish the business and send them packing. You didn't catch feelings for gifts from a man like Wilson Fisk; to do so was to invite a viper into your bed. As a spider, Toby had no desire to wake up with a snake coiled around his throat.
Gwen, however, was someone he knew. She was "clean," and he wouldn't mind a long-term development there.
In this universe, Gwen was breathtaking—perfectly aligned with his aesthetics, like a comic book cover come to life. In fact, everyone in this world—Peter, Ben, May, even Fisk—seemed to lean more toward their idealized, classic comic archetypes than their grittier cinematic counterparts.
After another round of gaming with Peter, Toby retired to his room. Though his constitution far exceeded that of a normal human, he maintained a strict "early to bed, early to rise" routine whenever he wasn't on a contract. His Spider-physique was his capital in this world; without a "System" to bail him out, he had to treat his body like a temple.
The next morning.
While Peter was still dead to the world, making the most of his day off, Toby had already finished a grueling session in his custom-built basement gym and completed several miles of a morning run around the neighborhood.
As he finished his final lap and approached the driveway, he felt a gaze lingering on him from the house next door.
Toby followed the sensation and saw a girl with vibrant, fiery red hair watching him from the neighboring yard. Seeing him look over, she didn't shy away. Instead, she walked over with an easy, confident stride and extended a hand.
"Hi. You must be the cousin Peter talks about. Toby Parker, right? Ben and May's son?"
Toby took a moment to look her over. This MJ was easily an '8' in the looks department, with a bright, sunny disposition. He reached out, lightly grasping her fingertips with a polite smile.
"That's me. Toby Parker. I've heard about you too, Peter mentioned a 'celestial neighbor' with stunning red hair."
Nobody hates a compliment, especially from a handsome man. MJ's first impression of Toby was, understandably, golden.
They chatted for a few minutes. Toby realized that this version of Mary Jane wasn't the polarizing figure from the movies or the flighty character from certain comics. She was articulate, grounded, and genuinely friendly. Perhaps his meta-prejudices were a bit too heavy.
The brief conversation ended when MJ's parents called her in for breakfast. Watching her walk inside to a warm, cheerful greeting from her family, Toby nodded to himself.
In this universe, it wasn't just MJ who was different; her home life seemed stable. No alcoholic father, no mourning mother. She was being raised in a happy home. That likely explained why she lacked the brooding, gold-digging edge of her other incarnations.
Good, Toby thought. At least I don't have to worry about my poor, naive cousin getting his heart shredded later on.
He headed inside, showered, and emerged feeling refreshed just as May was setting breakfast on the table.
His "slacker" cousin, Peter, was currently being ushered downstairs by Ben. Peter looked like he'd crawled out of a bird's nest, his hair a chaotic mess as he reluctantly sat down for the meal.
Toby took his seat and bit into a sandwich that, frankly, tasted like cardboard. Yet, he smiled, feeling a genuine sense of peace. As an orphan who had been abandoned at birth in his previous life, this simple, noisy domesticity was more precious to him than all of Kingpin's millions.
In this warm atmosphere, even May's terrible cooking felt like a delicacy.
Of course, that was a sentiment only Toby shared. Peter and Ben were chewing their sandwiches with expressions so distorted they looked like they were swallowing dry leather.
May launched into a lecture directed at the two of them, punctuated by high praise for her "sensible, non-picky" son. Ben and Peter's faces grew increasingly miserable under the dual weight of the bad food and the guilt trip.
Then, the doorbell rang.
Ben and Peter reacted like death-row inmates receiving a last-minute stay of execution. They scrambled to the door, nearly tripping over each other.
They opened it to find a "living sunbeam" standing on the porch.
Golden hair, a radiant smile, and a graceful silhouette. It was Gwen Stacy in the flesh. "Hi, Uncle Ben! Hey, Peter!"
Her arrival was like an angelic intervention. The two men practically pulled her into the house.
Gwen walked into the dining room with practiced ease, waving a hand at the table. "Hi, Aunt May! You look younger every time I see you!"
May stood up to give Gwen a hug, her face glowing. "Oh, Gwen! Always so sweet. But you look like you've lost weight, dear. We're just having breakfast—sit down and have a bite."
Without waiting for an answer, May nudged Gwen into the seat next to Toby. She ruthlessly snatched away the plate that was supposed to be Peter's and replaced it with a fresh serving for Gwen.
It wasn't that May had made an extra portion expecting a guest. It was simply that Toby's three-hundred-pound frame required the caloric intake of a small army. May usually prepared two or three "standard" portions just for him. Shaving a bit off Toby's mountain of food to feed Gwen was a logical sacrifice.
Besides, May looked at her son—all three hundred pounds of dense muscle—and then at Gwen, who probably didn't even hit a hundred pounds soaking wet.
May's mind wandered into dangerous territory. My son is built like a tank. Poor Gwen is so delicate... if they ever... well, she definitely needs to put on some weight, or he'll flatten the poor girl.
Neither Toby nor Gwen was aware of May's "physical compatibility" concerns.
Gwen playfully flexed a bicep for May, claiming she only looked thinner because she'd been working out. She joked that she was trying to catch up to Toby's fitness level.
May's eyes lit up at that. Look at her, she thought. So dedicated. She keeps up with Peter in school and tries to keep up with Toby in the gym. A perfect match.
Then May looked at her husband and her nephew. Ben's "dad-bod" belly was getting more prominent by the day, and Peter was still a "skinny dog."
No more slacking, May decided. From now on, they're both joining Toby's hell-style training sessions. If they can't be geniuses like Toby, they can at least stop looking like wet noodles.
While Ben and Peter were currently taking advantage of the distraction to sneak out toward the nearest KFC, they had no idea that Aunt May had just signed them up for a world of pain.