Aladdin is drunk.
Even still, he's had far more than Alibaba, and Alibaba bitterly questions the state of his life if a 10 year old can mostly hold alcohol better than he can. Aladdin has also wormed his way into a dozen laps that night, his face plastered to every single last pair of boobs he can find, and Alibaba wants to grumble about it, fuming and trying to make himself invisible for fear of some behemoth woman finding her way to him again.
No matter how he tries to hide, Aladdin finds him in the end, a little giggly, a little flushed, and beaming up at him, cheeks smeared with lipstick. "You don't look like you're having fun, Alibaba," he says. "You should change that. Go talk to one of the girls—"
"I'm not in the mood."I don't want your sloppy seconds, geez.
"Maaaybe you'd have more fun if you kissed one or two of them." Aladdin squints at him, contemplative. "You do know how, right?"
Alibaba's mouth opens and shuts, and when he doesn't answer right away, he knows that Aladdin knows, and oh, that's bad. Really bad. "I—"
"I'll teach you!"
It's said so terribly innocently that Alibaba can't even react at first, not even when Aladdin hops up, kisses him as quick and easy as everything, and—
, well, that just happened.
That was his first kiss, lost to a 10 year old boy in a titty joint.