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‘Can you not be a bit more … OW!’ The Doctor yelped in pain.
‘Maybe you should be a bit more careful yourself, Doctor!’ Clara smacked him on the shoulder.
The Doctor was sat on a stool in the console room with Clara standing behind him. She was armed with a comb and a sharp pair of scissors. The mess of silver grey curls was matted with bits of things stuck throughout. ‘It was just a tunnel.’
‘A tunnel that some insects had webbed up entirely and had collected all manner of things stuck in it.’ Clara teased another clump of seeds of some sort from one of his curls. ‘Sit still you.’
‘Stop tugging so hard. It hurts.’ He grumped at her.
‘Would you rather a buzz cut?’ Clara threatened him.
‘No. Just be more gently.’
‘You are such a baby.’ Clara told him. ‘Ewwwwww! There’s something crawling in your hair!’
‘Oh? Is it small and brown?’
‘Yes.’
‘I saw a whole bunch of those in the tunnel.’ He held out his hand and Clara pulled the creepy crawly from his hair, dropping it in his open palm. ‘Cute.’
‘You’re sick.’ Clara made a disgusted face at the thing crawling in his hand.
‘You really need to relax those odd ideas you have about different things, Clara.’ The Doctor became fascinated for a few minutes as he watched it wriggle and squirm in his hand. Clara went back to her efforts of disentangling the Doctor’s hair. The small pile of freed bits grew beside Clara as she freed them from his floof.
‘Grey haired stick insect is a very appropriate nickname for you right now, Doctor.’ Clara freed another twig. Working on the next clump of sticky web, Clara made him yelp in pain again as the comb got tangled in too. ‘Seriously, let me just give you a trim. Your hair will grow back, Doctor.’
‘No. I don’t want to have my hair trimmed right now. You don’t know how I like to have my hair trimmed. It wouldn’t feel right.’
Clara sang, ‘You’re so vain.’
‘Oh stop! OW!’ Clara got back at him with another tug on the tangled clump. ‘Where did you get such a cruel streak, Clara?’
‘When did you get to be stubborn?’
He stuck his tongue out in response.
‘Idiot.’ Clara mumbled and freed the mass of webbing. Going to drop it on top of the pile it stuck to her fingers and she had to work to get it off. ‘No more poking your head into tunnels to satisfy your curiosity.’
‘Yes, ma’am.’ The Doctor said, not meaning it one bit. ‘OW! Clara!’
‘Liar. Shall I get the clippers now?’
‘NO! Carry on.’ He waved a long-fingered hand at her to prompt her to continue. His eyes watered more when she kept tugging on his locks. The Doctor just sighed, resigning himself to his fate.