While he didn't actually jump, Crowley was more surprised than he should have been at the sound of Kol's voice. Normally the senses of a demon, so much sharper than a human's, would have let him know any slight shift in Kol's movements, but between the vampire's natural sense of stealth and his own preoccupied mind, Crowley hadn't noticed anything until the words came out.
"How long have you been awake?" He deflected the comment with a question, his voice slightly rougher than he would have liked. Crowley wanted to blame the scotch, but the rawness of his throat reminded him all too much of screaming on the rack. As if the alcohol could soothe that away, he knocked back another gulp of scotch from the bottle, before he hesitated a moment, eventually holding it out to Kol, just in case he wanted some. Of course, the easier thing to do would have been to move back to the bed, it was only a few short steps away, but that would have involved moving and Crowley honestly didn't know if he was able to just yet.
"We do sometimes," he finally answered the implied question. "Weird, right? Demons dreaming. Course, never quite sure if it's a real dream or a message from darling old Dad." That dream, that vivid real feeling, Crowley wouldn't have been surprise if it had been Lucifer, getting into his head. After all, he was the creator of demon kind, it would have been no effort at all to slip into Crowley's unconscious and poke around in there. Wouldn't even need to pause from the favorite pastime of harassing Sammy Boy in his sleep.
"Didn't mean to wake you, sorry." The hand not holding the bottle rubbed awkwardly at the back of Crowley's neck, still unsure as he was about the actual protocol of such things. Caring about someone. Wondering if the concern Kol seemed to be showing was real or in Crowley's mind. And trying not to think too deeply about whether or not he actually wanted Kol to be concerned about him.