Spoiler: Rose is still naked

The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come walked down the now fog-filled street with long, slow, purposeful steps; Clara followed. Her usual flippant attitude was only slight diminished by the ominous, grim reaper-esque figure they were walking behind. A naked Rose did a good job of keeping her spirits high.

Even if, at the moment, Rose was still trying to cover up with her arms. She probably ought to fix that sometime; she had given permission earlier after all.

Now the blonde was hunched forwards, one arm over her tits, one hand over her pussy, chest heaving from embarrassed breathlessness. She tried to stay behind Clara, whimpering slightly, more bothered by her own nudity than the Ghost.

The Ghost lifted an unseen arm, the black fabric of its robe a greater darkness than either of them had seen, and they walked through.

And found themselves far from Victorian London. So, at some point in the future they left Dickens; by the look of it this was some kind of mansion. Well there would be plenty of fictional, luxurious residences, tracking down one of them to live in probably was a smart bet. It definitely looked like a nice place to live.

Soft carpets, ornate walls, and apparently no occupants, or at least no one currently there. They walked past a double bedroom, the ceilings tall enough that even the Ghost could bear to stand inside.

They turned into what was presumably one of many living rooms, to find the two people that were living there. Their future selves. Clara was wearing a loose nightshirt apparently signed by Spiderman as she sat on the sofa, reading a copy of 'Hogwarts: A History,' with one hand.

The future Rose, meanwhile, was still undressed. She lay on her side on the sofa, resting, head on Clara's lap, Clara's other hand idly playing with her hair. Judging by the setting they'd apparently been in the Land of Fiction a while, getting used to everything it had to offer, as if the fictional merchandise didn't give it away.

Clara shifted, nightshirt riding up higher; Rose blinked a couple of times, waking but not moving from the bare thigh beneath her.

She fidgeted a little, but made no move to cover. It was hard to tell whether she'd just been ordered not to or if she didn't see the point when she was inside. The present Rose stared incredulously, her future self lazily laying there, one arm laying flat on the sofa, the other lazily draped over her stomach, both her tits bare and a glimpse of her pussy (now shaved bare, lacking the patch of blonde the present Rose had) in full view.

Perhaps the only saving grace was that the future Rose wasn't wearing the damned collar the earlier genre had **** upon her. The present Rose fidgeted a little, only briefly tugging on hers before returning to crossing that arm over her chest.

Instead the collar rested on a desk just to the side of the sofa. So they still had it; Rose wasn't sure what to make of that.

"Huh," the future Clara said idly as an alarm went off. "Guess that makes it one year."

"Mm?" Rose said.

"You know," Clara said. "One year since I bumped into you. Does that count as an anniversary? Three hundred and sixty five days since you've worn anything."

That made the future Rose squirm. She rubbed her legs together, cheeks heating.

The present duo meanwhile had rather different reactions to the news that this state of affairs lasted a year; Rose squealed, shaking a little, turning to plead with Clara, only to falter when she saw the huge grin on Clara's face.

"How do you want to celebrate?" the future Clara said.

"Stay inside?" the future Rose said hopefully. Clara chuckled.

"Seriously," Clara said. "Feels like we ought to do something extra special today. Something fun."

Rose bit her lip. She shifted, sitting up and beginning to cross her arms, albeit a bit too low to hide her boobs. There was a slight flush in her cheeks as Clara looked at her.

"I suppose we could go back to the Doctor," Clara said. "Both of us. Back to the real world and everything, we'd probably have to."

"Oh," Rose said. She faltered. "I... I used to really want that. Still do, but it... feels sudden."

"Yeah," Clara said. She still watched Rose. "I guess we have to sooner rather than later so that he doesn't ask why you're suddenly in your forties and have forgotten how to put anything on. I just don't really feel like saying goodbye just yet, been way too much fun."

Rose squirmed at Clara's idle words, blush deepening.

"You pick," Clara said. "Back to clothes and the Doctor, or stay with me and stay naked?"

"I-" Rose began. She hesitated; Clara's eyes suddenly lit up.

"Although," she said, "If you pick me, I just had an awesome idea."

Rose hesitated again; now she seemed slightly nervous.

The present Rose stared too. Ok, she'd struck up a friendship with the woman who'd apparently spent a whole year exposing her. That was... honestly she could see it, it wasn't as though she disliked Clara, if anything the opposite. She liked doing what Clara told her.

Over a year... maybe. It was just hard to reconcile hesitation when it came to a chance to get dressed again.

The future Rose swallowed awkwardly, and answered.