He’d never been so annoyed at his own Cheesy Sense in his entire life.

May 3rd. Cheese Sandwich knew Pinkie’s birthday better than his own, whenever that was, but his Cheesy Sense was stubbornly insisting on the Equestria Games, where the Wonderbolts immediately engaged him to throw parties for them. They were the best, and they demanded the best, and he obliged. They weren’t especially considerate clients, and they wanted every party to be larger and splashier than the last. One of them had an insatiable appetite for pies, which was awkward, because Cheese still couldn’t bake to save his life. Fortunately, through his contacts, he’d found an excellent supplier, and he wasn’t going to question that as long as the pies kept coming.

Every night, he hoped that this party would be the last, but of course it wasn’t, and finally, here he was on the last day of the Equestria Games, knowing that he’d missed her birthday and that there wasn’t a thing he could do about it. He sat through what was certainly the worst rendition of the Cloudsdale Anthem he’d ever heard, if that’s what it was, feeling more and more irritated, and then he heard a familiar soprano voice sing out, “Nailed it!”

Pinkie Pie!

He hurriedly grabbed the binoculars from the stallion sitting next to him with a careless “excuse me,” sighted in the direction he’d heard the voice coming from, and spotted her. There she was, a tiny pink dynamo of pure joy in pony form. Unfortunately, the binoculars were abruptly snatched back by their owner, and by the time he’d convinced him that he absolutely had to have them right now, she was gone.

He spent the intervening hours planning a massive celebration for the Cloudsdale delegation. Spitfire wanted an ice sculpture of the whole Wonderbolts team, and he had to race back and forth with platter after platter of pies. While he felt a certain professional pride in the fact that they were definitely going to be happy with the party, he wanted very much to be planning Pinkie’s birthday party instead. With all the excitement going on, he was sure her birthday was going to be overlooked, but he couldn’t just start throwing parties simply because he personally wanted to throw them. That wasn’t what Cheesy Sense was for. Somehow during the rush, he managed to borrow a pair of Spitfire’s binoculars. He wasn’t going to miss his last chance to see Pinkie.

He scanned the crowd, worried that he wouldn’t be able to spot her again, but thank goodness, she made it easy for him by repeatedly squealing “Omigosh!” and bouncing up and down. It really was an inimitable voice, he thought, like a matched set of high, perfectly pitched bells, and as he focused the binoculars, he saw that she had an empty seat next to her, too.

Then things became very confusing, and there was some kind of mass brush with death, but the important thing was that Pinkie Pie was in that stadium, and by Cheddar, he was going to talk to her or he’d know the reason why.

He tried to get to her, but it was impossible in the press of thousands of other ponies, even for a pony who was used to crowds. He was not giving up, though, not without a fight, so it was doubly aggravating when he suddenly went blind.

“Guess who?” said the voice in his ear. But why spoil her fun?

“Princess Luna?”

“No.”

“Hoity-Toity?”

“Noooo.”

“Then I give up.”

“It’s me, silly!” Her hooves came up and she whirled him around so they were face to face: his face very close to hers.

“Pinkie Pie?” He cleared his throat. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

“Sure! Twilight’s my bestest friend and Dashie and Fluttershy are my other bestest friends. I couldn’t not come. How about you?”

“Oh, you know,” he said, shining a hoof against his shirt and examining it at leg’s length, “party planning. Happy birthday, by the way.”

“Oh, that’s right!” she gasped. “I never remember!”

“And I never forget,” he said thoughtlessly, and winced. Slick. “I was thinking,” he went on. “I’m throwing the Wonderbolts’ final party this evening, and if you’d like, I could get you in, and it would sort of be a birthday party for you, too.” He dropped his head down so that they were eye to eye.

“I’m so sorry, Cheesie,” she said. He kept getting stuck on her eyes, until it sunk in that she was saying no. “I have to go to Princess Cadance’s party with Twilight and all my other friends. Couldn’t you come to the princess’ party instead? Princess Luna and Princess Celestia are going to be there, too, and I know they’d want to have you headline it,” she said. “You’re a better headliner even than me.”

Yes, he thought, yes. I am sick of Spitfire’s screaming, and Fleetfoot is as bad as she is, except with a lisp, and that blue-haired one has some kind of pie fetish, and there is nothing I would rather do than spend your birthday with you. He sighed.

“I have to say no,” he said. “You know it’s my job to say no.” Was it really, though? He wasn’t a caterer, and he didn’t care whether he was planning a foal’s birthday party or a gala for a princess. All he needed to do was make other ponies happy. Did that include himself, too?

A masculine voice from somewhere behind Pinkie snapped, “Move your fat little flank, sister. You’re blocking traffic.” Pinkie stumbled forward, and it was second nature to brace his shoulder against hers so that she didn’t go down under the crowd’s hooves. There they were, shoulder against shoulder. He really didn’t want to move.

He breathed out, a long slow breath. Ok, Cheese, he said to himself. You’ve got this. It’s just one step back. One very, very slow step back. He placed his left hoof just half a stride back, and began shifting his weight very slowly and drawing his head up, not losing contact with her neck. The curls of his mane were winding themselves into the tendrils of hers, as though they too were stubbornly insisting that as far as they were concerned, he wasn’t going to let her go. Her coat was thick, like velvet; she smelled of strawberry sauce, cotton candy, bubblegum, and, under it all, pure, unmistakable Pinkie. He could feel his pulse going in his jugular. Eye to eye. Almost there. Almost muzzle to incredibly soft muzzle.

“Pinkie! You comin’ or what?” And Pinkie swung her head around.

“Okey-dokey-lokey!” He saw stars from the jolt of pain as his mane was practically ripped out. “Oops!”

Argh! He had never been so close to wishing glueification on anypony! But it was his own stupid fault for reverting back to being the shy colt he was when he first saw her. He was kicking himself so hard that it was practically a new dance craze.

He could barely register what she was saying over his own inner scream of frustration. “Sorry, Cheesie! I’ve gotta go help with the princesses’ party,” she said, hoofing at their manes so she could separate them. “I wish you could have come. Any party is funner with you there.” Then she was gone.

Well, that’s just great. He’d have to wait for another time when he happened to be wherever she was, the conditions were exactly right, and he worked up the guts to try again. The closer he came to putting his hoof on why he wanted to kiss her so very badly, the harder it became to try. At this rate, he thought, it was going to be impossible to be in the same room with her, and that was too bad, because he really liked just standing next to her and inhaling. Then he noticed a curly pink head, appearing over the heads of the crowd and then disappearing, bouncing up and down, zigzagging closer to him with every bounce. Suddenly, she exploded through the last of the bystanders, so that she was right under his nose.

“Sorry!” she said. “Forgot to say goodbye!” She threw her front legs around his neck, kissed him on the cheek, and then she was off again like a streak of pink lighning.

Author's Notes:

If you didn't notice Cheese among the spectators at the Equestria Games, you know about it now! So in honor of that, and Pinkie Pie's birthday, have this little fic.