He was used to the door creaking open just as soon as he materialized. He was used to the way her voice carried into the Tardis like a melody tickling his ears just enough to crack the right corner of his lips upwards. He was used to the clack of her heels on the metal flooring and the heavy crunch of an overnight bag landing in one of the console seats as he glanced up. So he expected the Clara Oswald he was used to and instead found himself staring in confusion as his jaw grew slack.
She was saying something about radishes, possibly talking about a recipe, or coming up with a clever new way to insult the students without swearing, hands flopping about as she spoke, but he couldn't comprehend it, he was too busy trying to figure out just what was off. What one little thing was wrong with her that hadn't been wrong the day before.
"Doctor?"
He blinked rapidly, head giving a small shake before his mouth closed and he gestured up at her with a small shrug, and accused, "You've done something."
Eyes narrowing as her lips puckered, she responded sarcastically, "Oh good, he's surprisingly vague."
"What have you done?" He questioned, taking a step forward as his head arched down slightly, tilting from side to side to get a better look at her before he gave the white collars of her blouse a flick before dropping his hands against his thighs to continue staring.
Clara looked away a moment in confusion, and then she straightened, turning back to nod, reaching to let her hands hover over the sides of her head a moment before she laughed and told him, "Decided to cut it," then she questioned curiously, "Do you like it?"
He was considering it, now that he understood what was off and he did a circle around her as she stood still, giving him a small giggle just as he came to stand in front of her again. His hands came up and brushed underneath the edges , his knuckles brushing her shoulders, and he coughed, "You'll be off balance now, less aerodynamic."
"Less what?" Clara laughed. "Doctor, it's hair."
"It's less hair – exactly," he shot, fingers digging in and drifting lightly through her hair and against her skull. "Why've you cut your hair?"
Brow rising, Clara reached up and quickly gave his locks a pat, "Why've you grown yours?"
"Grown mine?"
Frowning playfully, she informed him, "You're like an angry owl, all puffed up and ready to attack."
On a nod, he responded, "Attack hair to go with my attack eyebrows. Full attack mode now, quite apt I would say, for most of the places we end up."
His fingers slid through her hair gently and Clara felt the shiver roll over her body, could see the gooseflesh on her arms as she chanced to lift her hands to test the length of his hair again, thumbs brushing over his temples just tantalizingly enough that she watched his eyes flutter shut for a fraction of a second. "Do you not like it?" She asked him softly.
He smiled, looking to the cascade of browns flowing over his pale fingers as he shifted them through and out before embedding them back on instinct, feeling the warmth of a blush in his cheeks as he sighed, "I suppose what's done is done."
Clara pulled lightly at his hair as she chuckled and gave him a quick nod, prompting, "Just humor me this once, Doctor. Tell me you like it."
Looking over the hair that fell just above her shoulders, and the sweep of locks that had been tucked behind her right ear, now lying softly like a curtain on the back of his hand, he sighed and stated with a mischievous widening of his eyes, "I like it," then he smirked to mirror hers and added, "It'll just take some getting used to."