The smell of cooking pasta filled Sarah's small apartment. She stirred the sauce, occasionally glancing over her shoulder at Gabriel, who sat stiffly on the couch, his eyes fixed on the television. She had turned it on in an attempt to familiarize him with human culture, but he seemed more bewildered than enlightened.

"Is this truly how humans spend their time?" Gabriel asked, his voice a mixture of disgust and fascination as he watched a reality show. "Observing the petty conflicts of strangers?"

Sarah couldn't help but chuckle. "Not all of us, and not all the time. But yeah, some people enjoy it."

She brought over two plates of spaghetti, setting them on the coffee table. Gabriel eyed the food warily.

"It's just pasta," Sarah said, twirling some onto her fork. "Try it."

Gabriel mimicked her actions, clumsily wrapping the noodles around his fork. When he took his first bite, his eyes widened in surprise.

"This is... not unpleasant," he admitted grudgingly.

Sarah smiled. "High praise indeed."

As they ate, Sarah couldn't help but study Gabriel. Despite his human appearance, there was something undeniably otherworldly about him. The way he moved, the intensity of his gaze, the barely contained power she sensed beneath his skin.

"So," she said, breaking the silence, "you mentioned needing to get back to Heaven. Any ideas on how to do that?"

Gabriel's face darkened. "No," he admitted. "I've never heard of a fallen angel being restored to grace. But there must be a way. There has to be."

The desperation in his voice tugged at Sarah's heart. "We'll figure it out," she said softly. "But in the meantime, we need to work on your... human skills. Starting with those wings."

Gabriel nodded, setting aside his empty plate. "Yes, we should practice. I need to regain control."

Sarah stood, moving behind the couch. "Okay, let's try. Focus on your wings, like before."

Gabriel closed his eyes, concentrating. Sarah placed a hand on his back, feeling the tension in his muscles.

"Wings," she commanded, "appear."

Nothing happened.

"Wings," she tried again, more forcefully, "I command you to appear!"

Suddenly, with a whoosh, the massive black wings burst into existence, knocking over a lamp and sending papers flying.

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"Whoa!" Sarah exclaimed, stumbling backwards.

Gabriel twisted around, his eyes wide with a mixture of relief and frustration. "They still only respond to you," he growled.

Sarah approached cautiously, reaching out to touch one of the wings. The feathers were soft beneath her fingers, but she could feel the power thrumming through them.

"Maybe if we practice, you'll regain control," she suggested.

For the next hour, they experimented. Sarah would command the wings to appear and disappear, while Gabriel tried to assert his will over them. But no matter what he did, the wings remained stubbornly under Sarah's control.

Finally, exhausted and frustrated, Gabriel slumped back onto the couch. His wings, still manifest, drooped to the floor.

"This is useless," he muttered. "I'm trapped in this mortal form, unable even to control my own wings."

Sarah sat beside him, careful not to crush his feathers. "We'll keep trying," she assured him. "Rome wasn't built in a day, you know."

Gabriel looked at her blankly.

"It's a saying," she explained. "It means big things take time."

"Time," Gabriel repeated bitterly. "Another human construct I must now endure."

Sarah yawned, the events of the day catching up with her. "Speaking of time, it's getting late. We should get some sleep."

Gabriel frowned. "Sleep? Angels don't sleep. We have more important matters to attend to. You need to help me regain control of my wings and find a way back to Heaven."

Sarah rubbed her temples, feeling a headache coming on. "Gabriel, it's been a long day. I'm tired, and I have work tomorrow. We can't solve everything in one night."

"Work?" Gabriel scoffed. "How can you think about mortal obligations at a time like this? My situation is far more pressing than whatever trivial tasks await you."

Sarah felt her patience wearing thin. "Listen here," she said, her voice firm. "I understand this is all new and frustrating for you, but my life doesn't stop just because you dropped into it. I need to work to pay for this apartment, for food, and for everything else. Including your stay here."

Gabriel opened his mouth to argue, but Sarah cut him off.

"No, you're going to listen. I'm trying to help you, but I have limits. I need sleep, and so do you, whether you want to admit it or not. You're part human now, remember? So here's what's going to happen: you're going to sleep on this couch, and we'll talk more tomorrow after I get back from work."

Gabriel glared at her, his blue eyes flashing with defiance. "You can't order me around, mortal. I am—"

"An archangel, yes, I know," Sarah interrupted. "But right now, you're a guest in my home, and you'll follow my rules. End of discussion."

For a moment, they stared at each other, neither willing to back down. Finally, Gabriel let out a frustrated growl. "Fine," he spat. "I'll endure this... sleep, if I must."

Sarah nodded, too tired to argue further. She quickly set up the couch with blankets and a pillow. "Try to get some rest. We'll figure out more tomorrow."

As Sarah turned to go to her room, Gabriel's voice stopped her, his tone petulant. "This couch is too small. My wings—"

"Are currently invisible and intangible," Sarah finished for him. "You'll manage. Goodnight, Gabriel."

With that, she closed her bedroom door, leaning against it with a sigh. What had she gotten herself into?

In the living room, Gabriel sat on the couch, glaring at the blankets as if they had personally offended him. He couldn't believe he was being reduced to this - sleeping on a tiny mortal couch while the fate of his celestial being hung in the balance.

But as he lay down, an unfamiliar sensation washed over him. His eyelids felt heavy, his body sinking into the cushions. Despite his best efforts to resist, he felt himself drifting off.

His last conscious thought was a mix of indignation and surprise: Perhaps he was becoming more human after all. The realization was both terrifying and, strangely, a little comforting as he finally succumbed to his first night of sleep.