(A/N) Okay, if you have any suggestions/requests for situations, please just review or PM them – I need all the plagiarism help I can get :) Review if you like, review if you don't, just make it meaningful and helpful. Still don't own El Doco or Clazza, I just like torturing them. On with the chapter! (A/N)

The Doctor wasn't used to the phone ringing.

Most people were – then again, most people don't have a time machine, or live his life. He'd had phones throughout his lives, yes, but he was never a keen user of them.

"Hello?" he answered, automatically swinging it to his ear. He then realised something very important – this was Clara's phone.

"Clara? You free on Wednesday?"

"Who is this?" the Doctor asked, frantically searching around the room for Clara. Fortunately, he currently happened to have Clara's voice, along with her body – every cloud, and all that.

"It's Lisa," the voice (presumably Lisa) replied.

"Oh, Lisa! How are you?" the Doctor said, doing his best 'Clara' impression.

"Fine. Look, are you alright?"

"Yeah, I…I just woke up,"

"It's eight,"

"Hm?"

"At night,"

"Yeah, well, busy night last night…anyway, what's up?"

"You free on Wednesday?"

"Yeah, Wednesday the…?"

"Third. Of March. 2013," Lisa answered with a monotone. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine,"

"Okay…well, meet me outside Lynch's tomorrow morning, say, ten?"

"Ten," the Doctor repeated plainly.

"Okay, then. Night!" Lisa finished, before hanging up the phone.

Just as the Doctor pulled the phone away from his ear, Clara walked down the TARDIS stairs.

"Doctor? Why are you on my phone?" she asked, creeping over to him slowly.

"It rang," he replied.

"Who was it?"

"Er…Lisa?"

Clara's eyes shot wide open.

"Lisa?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Did she want anything?"

"To meet outside Lynch's at ten on Wednesday the third of March, 2013,"

"Oh my…god!" Clara groaned, collapsing into the TARDIS seat.

"Why? What is it?"

"Lisa is my friend from uni. She's getting married in a few weeks,"

"Yeah?"

"She asked me to be the bridesmaid,"

"Yeah?"

"Lynch's sells wedding dresses,"

"Oh. Oh!" the Doctor said, finally understanding their situation. "I'm not going wearing a wedding dress!"

"Of course you're not!" Clara snapped back "She is,"

"Well, then why am I there?"

"For company. Look, you'll have to go,"

"Why?"

"Because I actually want to keep a promise to her, okay?"

"So we go after we've sorted out the body swap business!"

"Knowing you, you'll organise a mariachi band with Rasputin, Churchill and…Cthulhu, then party the night away in El Paso, and before you know it, Lisa hates me and all my family line,"

"Okay, fine, I'll do it. On one condition,"

Clara sighed at this.

"What?"

"On the one condition that you stop wearing a skirt in my body right now!"

It had been a long day for the Doctor. First, after he'd wrestled Clara out of the skirt (she'd protested that it was a kilt, but he disagreed – it was the shortest kilt he'd ever seen come out of Jamie's collection), then the TARDIS took them to the wrong place (six times!) and then, finally, he'd been carted around more shops than…a person that was dragged to a lot of shops.

He sighed quietly. Even his brain was beginning to fade away.

"Clara, what do you think about this one?" Lisa said, showing off the latest dress that, in the Doctor's eyes, looked the exact same as the last 47.

"It's great…" the Doctor muttered, not even remotely interested anymore.

"Oh, come on, you've said that every time!" Lisa whined, even going so far as to pout. "Okay, maybe it is a bit boring for you…" she said "Maybe you'd like to dress up for a bit? We still need to choose the bridesmaid's dress…"

The Doctor rose from his seat, and backed away from her.

"No. No, no thank you, I'm fine, thanks,"

"Oh, come on! You'd look lovely in red…"

"No, I really wouldn't, honestly…" the Doctor stammered, continuing his retreat. However, he heard a thud as he hit the wall – he'd lost.

Clara was quite possibly going to kill him. To be fair, it was entirely her fault, but she'd find a way to blame him at some point down the line.

He was stood in the dressing room, a short, tight red dress hanging on the door in front of him. Lisa had paraded him around the shop, before plucking one dress out of a million identical ones, proclaimed that it was 'absolutely perfect!' and then thrust him into the nearest dressing room, flinging the dress after him.

"Clara? Come on, what's taking you?" Lisa asked, rapping her fist on the dressing room door. "We haven't got all day,"

"I won't be a minute…" the Doctor replied quietly, crossing his arms at the thought.

What would Clara do, if they were in the opposite places? If, say, Strax had dragged him out to try on tuxedos for a wedding – would she be fine with the undressing, and the clothes, and the seeing? Every morning up until now, they'd practically dressed each other; he'd fitted her bow tie exactly, she fastened his bra on. It worked in perfect symbiosis.

What's more, she was, for some reason, impossible to call at the moment. He had left her fifteen messages in just as many minutes, and not gotten even a whisper in reply. Actually, a whisper would help – as long as it said yes or no, it would suffice.

After a minute passed, he sighed in defeat – he'd have to do it. Slowly, he grabbed his top and pulled on it, tugging it over his head and dropping it onto the floor unceremoniously. Turning around, he glimpsed himself in the mirror – the very topless, very cute, very sexy Clara stared back. Clara would definitely be against this, he decided. But, he had passed the point of no return now – he had to finish the job.

Next, he unbuttoned the top of his jeans, loosening them, before wriggling out. After a few seconds of Doctor-vs-denim wrestling, the jeans finally dropped to the floor, allowing him to step out of them and pad towards the dress.

He felt a sudden chill; was the room this cold before? Anyway, he plucked the dress off of the hangar and examined it carefully, before pulling it over his head.

"Clara?" an exasperated Lisa said through the door "Look, I'm coming in…"

"No, don't!" the Doctor said, beginning to panic. However, the hem of the dress caught on his bra – he never he'd say that – and revealed his lower body for all to see.

Blinded by the red fabric, the Doctor could only hear the door creak open, and the footsteps enter.

"Clara," Lisa said between laughs "What the hell have you done here?"

In a matter of seconds, both the Doctor and the dress were freed, and the apparel now fit him perfectly.

"Aw, look," Lisa said, "the baby's coming on nicely,"

In horror, the Doctor followed Lisa's eyes, unless he realised Lisa was staring at his abdomen.

"What?!"