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Alain doesn't think he's overreacting.
Sure, hands slip on podiums, it's easy to miscalculate where a touch might land with the mismatched steps and all, and the champagne definitely doesn't help. But the squeezing, well, that's more difficult to misinterpret.
Specially when it keeps happening.
----
The results are: Alain wins the race. Nelson gets second place, and Ayrton gets third.
The result is: Nelson's hand on Alain's arse, of course.
Alain does his best not to make a scene; he discretely slaps Nelson's hand away, and smiles for the pictures.
Nelson's hand inmediately returns to its target. Alain elbows him.
"Ow! What?" Nelson says under his breath.
"Could you please move your hand?"
Nelson gives him a weird look, and takes his other hand from where it had been resting on Alain's arm.
"What? Does your arm hurts?" Nelson says; all the way he keeps petting Alain's behind.
Nobody around reacts.
Alain blinks, and sets the champagne aside.
-------
Not a drop of alcohol has touched his lips when Nigel's hand touches...well.
Alain, quite resigned at this point, merely smiles rejectedly and hurries away as soon as he can.
Ayrton intercepts him on the way to his motorhome.
"Ok, is this some kind of joke?"
"You'll have to be more specific." Alain retorts. He's not trying to be witty; Ayrton could have taken offense by any number of things, including nothing.
If he's going through the trouble to actually confront Alain instead of moping about trying to kill him with his mind, the least Alain can do is to inquire about it.
"Eveybody keeps...er..." he gestures at the general direction of Alain's hip. "Is it...some sort of practical joke, or...?"
Alain takes a few quick steps, and grabs Ayrton by the shoulders. "You mean you saw it?"
Ayrton gives him a weird look. "Everyone grabbing your arse? Of course I saw it, I'm not blind."
Alain will deny having hugged Ayrton to the end of his days; but he did. And then dragged him inside his motorhome.
-------
"I was starting to think I was hallucinating, by this point." Alain says.
"It would be a strange thing to hallucinate."
"Stranger than no one saying a word about it?"
"Ok, you have a point there. But maybe it keeps happening because you don't do anything about it?"
It was so typical of Ayrton to always spin everything as if it was Alain's fault.
"What am I supposed to do? The last time I slapped Nelson's hand away, and he just did it again! I'm not going to make a fuss and call attention to it!"
Ayrton stands from his chair, and walks toward Alain, a thoughtful expression on his face.
"But you have to do something, if it bothers you that much. What would you do if I grabbed your arse?"
"I would punch you in the face." Alain says without doubt.
Of course, if Ayrton grabbed his arse he would be a hundred percent sure he was mocking and trying to humilliate him, while the others...ok, he hadn't the faintest idea why the others did it. He just wanted them to stop.
Ayrton smiles humorlessly. "Well, good to know."
Alain has the feeling he's missing something. "This is pointless. So far, you've been the only one not grabbing my arse, for which I'm thankful, by the way..."
"You're welcome," Ayrton says drily.
"...and that should be the default response. I mean, why would anyone want to...?"
"Let's not dwell on that." Ayrton says, frowning. "Ok, if you don't want to punch anyone, for whatever reason.."
"Not wanting to punch people should also be a default response." Alain says, not liking where this is going.
"Fine." Ayrton thinks for a moment. "I suppose I could grab your arse..." Alain inmediatedly heads for the door; Ayrton grabs him and pull him back inside. "Wait! So you can punch me when I do it and make clear you won't stand for it anymore. Sounds reasonable?"
Nothing about this whole thing is reasonable; Alain shakes his arm loose, and pinches himself.
"What are you doing?" Ayrton asks. Alain rubs at his elbow and glares at him.
"What does it look like I'm doing?" he answers plaintively. Then he crosses his arms. "And no, I'm not punching you in a public event, not even for show. I'm sure this whole thing will just blow over."
-------
"Ok, Bernie pretty much humped you in public. This will not blow over, and I don't think my eyes can take much more trauma."
Alain gives Ayrton an incredulous look. "You are traumatized?"
Ayrton ignores him. "I think we should just go with my plan."
"Yes, that's exactly what I need, getting groped once again."
"Well, you don't seem to mind it from anyone else." Ayrton snaps.
They glare at each other; Alain is about to ask whether he's jealous and possibly provoke a not made up fist fight when something else occurs to him.
"Wait. I know who can tell me what to do."
---------
"So, this might sound weird, but lately..."
"Everyone has been grabbing your ass and you don't know why." Niki interrumpts, with his patented 'you are an idiot' look.
Alain has never been more glad to have it directed at him. It means Niki already has all this figured out.
"Yes! Do you have any idea..."
"You have a great ass, so it gets grabbed. It happens."
Alain's jaw drops in a way that he's sure must be terribly unnatractive. Ayrton rolls his eyes, which doesn't make him feel any better.
"But...surely...what?"
"Racing drivers are all perverts." Niki explains patiently. "I shouldn't even have to tell you this. You've meet James."
"Yes, but that can't be it. You never grabbed my arse, either, and you're not exactly a saint." Alain does a great effort not to sound dissapointed. By the way Ayrton's expression sours, he's not meet with success.
Niki smirks. "It's not too late," he says. Ayrton takes a step forward, and he rolls his eyes. "In small words: it used to happen to me all the time, so I know what it's like. So you either need to perfect the 'touch me and I'll gut you' look that I've mastered over the years, or..."
"Or?" says Alain. His defense mechanism while nervious was to smile, usually, so it would be no use.
Niki looks thoughtful. "Well, or get a groper who looks mean enough to scare the others away. Or start punching people in the face."
---------
"Thanks, Niki!" Alain calls over his shoulder as they leave. As soon as the door closes, he turns to Ayrton. "So, that was useless. I'll start carrying mace and that shall be it."
Ayrton doesn't answer; he's not spoken a single word since they went to see Niki, and Alain is starting to get worried.
Maybe he's remembered they hate each other. Or at least that he hates Alain.
"Listen, it was terribly good of you to..."
"And you wouldn't have punched Niki in the face either. So it's just me then?"
Alain stops walking too. They're standing under a tree, and it's a beautiful, sunny day. It's such a shame to waste it speculating on who Alain will or will not allow to indecently assault him.
"We'll always rubbed each other the wrong way; but you've never resorted to downright ridicule so far. So yes; if you chose to mock me that way, I would lose my temper. Because it would bother me, you doing that. Read on it what you will."
He starts walking again; after a few steps, Ayrton hurries after him.
Alain tries to quicken his pace, but it's not use with Ayrton's ridiculous long legs.
"Wait!" Ayrton says, stepping in front of him, cutting his way. He's not even breathing faster, the bastard. "And if...I didn't intent to make fun of you?"
Alain gives him an incredulous look. "You mean you do think I have a great arse too?"
Ayrton runs a hand down Alain's arm, a mere brush of fingers, almost a caress.
"Well, I would have started saying you have nice eyes, but..."
---------
So eventually Ayrton did touch Alain's arse, but by that point Alain definitely didn't mind.