He looks completely insulted for a moment, face blotching red with anger, before he launches at Dean's jacket. There's no real grace to it, no instinct, because he hasn't been taught any useful hand-to-hand combat; it's pretty much on par with a street punk who thinks swinging blindly is the way to go. Though interestingly, he's not throwing any punches, nothing that would actually hurt Dean. "Give them back!! Give 'em back! You asshole! You never wanted to be my brother, you liar! Stop screwing with me!!"

He breathes heavy, doesn't stop wrestling against him, cursing how puny he is for his age.

"You don't like me 'cus mom's dead 'cus of me! Stop pretending you care because you're older!"